Chapter 8 Darius
DARIUS
It takes extra energy to focus on the tasks at hand all day.
When Rebecca uses three hula hoops to be funny, I don’t even notice until the entire class bursts into laughter.
I’m so fucking excited about seeing Harry and taking him on an actual date.
I’ve been waiting years for this moment, and I don’t want to screw it up.
I don’t want to seem too eager, so I check the scores on my phone.
I won’t text Harry and tell him I’m here for at least five minutes.
Maynor couldn’t have been more right. Showing up works.
Getting Harry lunch felt like such a small gesture, yet it made me feel fantastic.
I thought I was doing him this huge favor, but in reality, I benefited from the good vibes it brought me.
I put my phone down and close my eyes, and Harry’s face floats into my mind—his beautiful brown eyes.
Those soft sandy-blond curls. And his lips.
The way they felt on mine. For as long as I can remember, my lips had been searching for something.
And then, with Harry’s kiss, they finally felt complete.
My heart races, thinking about what this night means. I want that feeling again. Yeah, the sex was mind-blowing, but it’s not even that. I want his lips on mine. To hold him in my arms. To listen to him breathe while he sleeps.
I’m taken out of my Harry trance by a tapping on the passenger window. It’s him. Crap.
I unlock the door, and he’s sitting next to me, lips pulled into a careful smile.
“Wait, Harry, no. I was going to text you.” I’m shaking my head, frustrated I’m already fucking this up. “At least get the car door for you. Can you get out and let me do that?”
He tilts his head and scrunches his eyebrows together. Damn, he’s cute.
“Please,” I say.
“Fine.”
We both exit the car, and I jog around and place my hand on the handle while Harry stands, waiting.
“Harry,” I say, opening the door.
But he doesn’t get in.
“Is something wrong?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “No, but you don’t have to do all this.”
“I know, but I want to.”
Harry moves to sit but pauses when his face comes close to mine, giving me the smallest, barely there kiss on the cheek.
Hot damn.
The warmth of his lips lingers on my skin, sending a flutter of surprise through me.
He pulls back just slightly, his gaze softening as he catches my eye, a quiet smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
The air between us is charged, and my heart beats a little faster, unsure of what this simple gesture means but grateful for it all the same.
He’s sitting. In the car. Waiting. And I’m standing by the door like I’ve just seen a flying saucer land.
“Coming, right there, Harry. Um, Peterson.”
I dash around to the driver’s side, sit, and pull the door shut. When I turn to grab the seat belt, Harry’s there, his handsome face smiling at me with those fucking lips.
“Slow down, Coach.” He leans over and takes my jaw in his hands. “Relax.”
And then he gently places his lips on mine.
In that moment, a wave of warmth washes over me as my body melts into his touch, surrendering completely to the sensation of Harry Peterson’s kiss.
Every nerve in my body ignites, and I lose myself in the sweet intimacy of our connection.
Cars drive by. Birds sing. The earth continues to spin on its axis.
But inside my old Saab, it all seems to blur as Harry’s tongue dances inside my mouth.
He grabs my jacket, pulling me closer, and the way he’s kissing me, the way my cock reacts, I’m not sure how I’m going to get through what I’ve planned for the rest of the night.
He pulls back, and before my brain catches up to what’s happening, I say, “Are you hungry?”
Harry’s eyes widen, and I blurt out, “For dinner. I know this cozy Italian place. Rudy’s. Best damn chicken parm I’ve ever had. It’ll make your toes tingle. Whaddya say?”
He nods, and his tongue traces over his lips. Maybe he really loves chicken parm?
“Darius, I know this is technically our first date, but I figured after the night in Rhode Island, instead of waiting all night and wondering if there’d be a kiss, we could start with it.”
“No complaints from me.”
He beckons me back over to his side with a finger, and when I lean his way, he kisses me again. Short and sweet, but right on the lips.
“Peterson, you’re going to spoil me with all this kissing.”
And how does he reply? By doing it again. My heart ramps up again from his touch, and the smile on my face could rival the fireworks on the Fourth of July.
“I mean, if that’s all it takes,” he says. “You’re an easy date.”
I drive off and am barely at the end of his block when Harry takes my hand and holds it on top of the center console. I suppose after the night in the hotel, kissing and holding hands might be considered a step backward, but I couldn’t be happier about it.
When we walk into Rudy’s, the look on Harry’s face is a mix of curiosity and slight hesitation.
The restaurant is small, almost snug in its tightness, with only a handful of tables scattered across the space.
Each one is tucked into the corners, giving the place an intimate, almost homey feel.
The walls are painted in soft, warm tones, and old wooden beams run across the ceiling, adding character to the building.
The smell of Italian food lingers in the air, comforting and inviting.
From the outside, it’s almost indistinguishable from one of the houses in the neighborhood, with its simple, unassuming facade—just a small sign hanging above the door that reads “Rudy’s” in faded letters.
The windows are small and framed with delicate curtains, offering a glimpse inside but not enough to reveal its full charm.
It’s the kind of spot you might walk right by if you didn’t know it was there, but once you step inside, it’s clear that Rudy’s is a hidden gem, a place where the noise of the world fades and you’re enveloped in the warmth of good food and quiet conversation.
“Coach! Coach!” It’s Rudy, who somehow hosts, waits on all the tables, and runs the kitchen.
He hugs me, and I’m surrounded by the sweet smell of cooked onions and garlic.
“How are the Sharks? Making lots of waves?”
“We actually made the finals. We’re headed to Hartford next weekend.”
“Congratulations! Those kids are lucky to have you. And who is this?” Rudy raises an eyebrow and extends his hand to Harry.
“I’m Harry Peterson. I teach English at Crossroads with Darius.”
Rudy cocks his head, studying Harry, then his eyes move to me, a glint of recognition flickering in them.
I played hockey with his son, Marco, throughout undergrad, and he knows I’m gay.
Marco and I shared an apartment during our senior year.
He had a girlfriend, and I was with Doug.
And while I’m not sure if Marco ever said anything directly, I’m sure his father must have caught on.
Rudy’s gaze lingers, but there’s no judgment, just an understanding that doesn’t need words.
Rudy seats us at the best table—the one closest to the kitchen—and heads off to another table. It’s tucked away in a corner, and even though two other couples are here, it feels like we have the whole place to ourselves.
“I’m not sure if you like chicken parm, but seriously, Rudy’s will change your life.”
“Transformative chicken Parmesan. I’m intrigued.”
I don’t want to push Harry too hard, but the need to apologize hovers over me like a ghost.
“Look, about all the stuff I said,” I start, my voice careful.
“The way I treated you. Harry, I meant it when I said I was sorry. But . . . if I’m honest .
. .that guy? The one who said all that crap?
That was me. It’s just—” I hesitate, thinking it over.
“I guess I didn’t know how else to get your attention.
But I don’t want to be that guy anymore. ”
Harry looks up from his plate, his gaze deadpan. “You mean the one with his dick down my throat?”
I almost choke on the fresh bread Rudy placed on the table.
I swallow hard, twice, just to make sure I’m not going to embarrass myself.
I wasn’t expecting that. From him. But the way he said it—so casual, so matter-of-fact—it surprised me.
He didn’t flinch or back away. Just tossed it out there like it was no big deal to say it in the middle of Rudy’s.
I wipe my mouth, trying to recover. “Uh, yeah, I mean, I do want to be that guy. I mean the one with his . . . The one I was in the hotel room. Not before.”
He’s got me all flustered. My thoughts jumble, and I can hardly focus.
It’s as if he has this incredible power over me that leaves me breathless and anxious, struggling to find my words.
Every little interaction sends my heart racing and makes me second-guess myself. It’s both exciting and overwhelming.
We sit for a moment, the silence uncomfortable now. Thankfully, Rudy comes with his little notepad and pen to take our order.
With a quick nod, Harry orders first. “I’ll take the chicken Parmesan. I’ve heard it’s spectacular.” He winks at me, and my stomach does a flip. “And can I get a little side salad?”
“Of course,” Rudy replies. “All our meals come with bread, salad, and a side of pasta. Would you like spaghetti, linguini, or fusilli?”
“Oh, I’ll have the linguini.”
“Perfect. And for you, Coach?”
“I’ll have the same.”
“Amazing. Would you like some wine?”
“None for me,” I say.
“I’ll have a glass of merlot.” Harry glances at me, and I nod as Rudy scribbles on his notepad and zooms back to the kitchen.
Once Harry has his wine, talking seems easier for him. I’d love a glass, but I’m driving—and Harry’s already got me distracted. Rudy brings the food out, and as I hoped, Harry’s enthralled.
“Oh, my gosh. You weren’t kidding, Darius. This is amazing.”
“Rudy doesn’t mess around. I’ve been eating here since college. Well, eating his food. In college, it was more of Rudy bringing takeout to our dumpy apartment situation.”
“Wait, so you dated his son?”
“Oh gosh, no, Marco and I were roommates. As in, actual roommates. He had a girlfriend. We weren’t in some fantasy hockey world where straight dudes suddenly want to bang their teammates. We were friends. And Rudy brought us Sunday dinner most weeks.”
“Okay, not Rudy’s son, but your last boyfriend was in college?”
“Yes, Doug. We dated for almost a year, which at the time felt like an eternity. Now I realize how short that really was.”
“And nobody since?”
“Dating? Nope. I’ve hooked up with a few guys.
Last time was about three years ago. I was feeling lonely and downloaded one of those apps.
You know, where you’re matched with guys based on your location.
It was fine. I mean, it did the trick, but the whole thing felt off for me.
The guy was friendly enough, but he had no interest in staying when it was over.
No talking. No cuddling. Nothing like . . .”
“Rhode Island.” Harry leans over his plate, offering a genuine smile that makes my pulse race.
“Listen, Harry, when you walked into the teacher’s lounge four years ago, you immediately grabbed my attention. And yeah, teasing you so hard makes me an immature goofball, but I only did it because I had such a major crush on you.”
“Yeah, I’ve figured that out.”
“So,” I said, leaning in a little, “about the next part of the night—”
Harry raises an eyebrow, looking skeptical. “Next part? Skating?”
I nodded. “Yeah, I’ve got a plan. Thought we could keep this going.”
He leans back in his chair, glancing at his watch. “Um . . . it’s a school night.”
I grin. “Oh, don’t worry, Cinderella. I’ll have you home before you turn into a pumpkin.”
He rolls his eyes, then smirks. “Is that the extent of your literary knowledge? A fairy tale that was made into a Disney film?”
“Hey, those mice are hella cute.”
Harry’s eyes widen, and we both laugh. He’s mocking me, but in that way that makes my insides all gooey. We’re in sync now, the teasing flowing both ways. And for the first time tonight, I can tell he’s all in. That wall he’d been keeping up? It’s crumbling.