Chapter 38
CHAPTER
THIRTY-EIGHT
Florian
Nashville is hot. The buildings are shiny and tall, and I crane my neck up.
Nashville is far away from everything I know. There is no commuting between Nashville and Boston, and I doubt many people in those two cities attempt long distance relationships with each other.
Mateo is by my side anyway.
We do not hold hands in the airport as we maneuver our large suitcases, but he is beside me the entire time.
He is beside me in the taxi, and he is beside me when I arrive at the hotel that my new team booked for me.
And when he asks me if I want him to go with me when I visit the Tennessee Twisters’ arena, I of course say yes.
I am out. The Twisters know I am gay, and they have chosen me anyway. I am the first out NHL player not playing for the Blizzards.
Though they only have a spot for me because their defenseman got injured.
The rideshare drives us to an arena. It is not the large one where I will play.
That will be in a different part of town.
I continue to stare out the window and to marvel that this has become my life.
I am grateful to Mateo for letting me pretend for a while longer that we are together, and that all of this is real.
He is an incredible man. I knew it from the moment I laid eyes on him and rushed from his massage therapy room, and I certainly know it now. Each day he surprises me, and he has given me the gift of hundreds of memories to carry with me for the rest of my life. I am stronger for having met him.
“Welcome!” The security guard waves us into the arena and gives directions on where to find Coach’s office.
I am to be a Tennessee Twister. I am not even certain what a twister is, and yet I am to be one. I am to inspire fear in other teams with the force of Southern U.S. weather phenomena.
The arena is good, if not as new and expensive as the Boston Blizzards arena.
Still, floor to ceiling windows of the Charles River is hardly an essential part of a work environment, and technically, no wall needs to be made of wood panels.
White painted walls are perfectly functional, and I appreciate the pictures of great former Tennessee Twisters.
Some of them I recognize. Most of them I don’t. I will master them all though.
I will be an excellent Twister. I will defend my other Twisters. They will always be happy they chose me.
Men and women wear cowboy hats, and I grin.
“What is it?” Mateo whispers.
“They’re wearing cowboy hats,” I say. “They’re actually wearing them. Like we’re in a John Wayne film.”
“As long as they don’t start doing other things that happen in John Wayne movies,” Mateo says.
I giggle and kiss his cheek. He looks somewhat alarmed.
“They know I am gay,” I say.
He laughs. “The whole country knows you are gay.”
I grin. “It is wonderful.”
His eyes soften, and he smiles at me so sweetly that I kiss him again.
“They asked for you even though they knew,” he says.
“I know.”
He smiles wide too. We are still smiling as we walk down the corridor, and we are still smiling as we stand in front of my new team manager’s door.
“You must be Florian!” A cheerful woman exits the office. She has blond curly hair—the kind that comes from a curling iron and advanced arm movements, the kind that Mama and Annika do on special occasions.
“I am,” I say.
She grins. Her gaze moves to Mateo.
I tense.
The e-mail said that I could bring someone with me for the tour, but perhaps they didn’t mean it?
But then the woman is flashing an equally large smile at Mateo. “And you must be Mateo!”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I’m Jessica! I’ll be helping you two get settled.”
Mateo and I exchange glances.
I like this place.
Mateo
Everyone in Nashville is friendly and nice, and Florian’s shoulders become lower and lower and his smile broadens and broadens.
He likes it here.
Which is wonderful.
The staff all seem happy to have him.
Florian will be fine, I realize. I do not need to be here. He does not need a portable security fake boyfriend.
When we separate, he will be sad, then fine.
Jessica leads us around the arena. Florian’s teammates are on an away game, and Florian will meet them the day after tomorrow for practice.
Jessica gives us a list of possible apartments to rent and another list of neighborhoods where we can buy houses together. Which—well, it’s wild to consider something like that.
But Florian and I aren’t in a real relationship. People buy houses together who are in real relationships.
“Thank you, Jessica,” Florian says. “Yes, we would love to take a look at that.”
It’s strange to hear Florian refer to me as part of a ‘we’ with him, but when I glance at him, he squeezes my hand.
Florian and I say goodbye to Jessica, armed with our information about Nashville and the team, then Florian and I take an Uber back to the hotel.
We spend the afternoon visiting the apartment complexes that Jessica recommended, and neither of us says that maybe it is strange looking at apartments like we’re a real couple.
Florian and I choose an apartment. It’s furnished, which is convenient, and we soon find ourselves wandering a one-bedroom apartment with sleek wooden furniture. Black-and-white framed photos of guitars hang over the bed.
“Let’s unpack,” Florian says.
“You don’t want to rest first?”
“I need to get something from the suitcase first.”
My eyes widen. “The—”
He nods. “Is that okay?”
“Yes, Florian. Of course.”
I help him find the enema kit—not that he doesn’t know exactly where everything in his suitcases is located.
He unboxes the enema kit and stares at the bulb.
“It’s sort of funnily shaped,” I say. “You don’t need to use it.”
“Of course, I will use it.”
“It can be uncomfortable.”
“I am used to being uncomfortable.”
“Do you want me to explain it?”
“I will manage,” Florian says stiffly.
He goes to the bathroom, and I hurry to the TV and turn it on, so Florian will feel relaxed.
Finally, he finds me on the sofa.
“How was it?” I ask.
“Uncomfortable.” He sits next to me, then kisses my cheek.
Florian then removes his phone, opens his Timer app, and a countdown clock appears on the screen. “We can have sex in one hour.”
He sets it on the coffee table.
“Oh.” I stare at the red numbers. “Awesome.”
Florian grins, then drapes his arm around me. I laugh as he pulls me toward him.
The next hour is very, very nice, and when Florian’s phone beeps, we go to the bedroom. Florian has already put the package of condoms and bottle of lube on one of the bedside tables.
I take out my phone and put on some music. Florian brightens when jazzy music starts filling the room.