Chapter 15 Stefan
Stefan
April
Outside Oakland, CA
It's taking Evan too long to respond, and I'm second-guessing the shit out of myself. Why is this something that’s becoming a trend with Evan?
Our conversation was going so well, felt so much like it did when we were at Worlds.
I didn't even think about my words before I typed them out and hit send.
But maybe this was too much, too soon. He just reached out to me, and ten seconds later, I'm inviting myself over. And when over is to an entirely different country, it’s kind of a big deal. It's ridiculous. I'm so over the top.
And how transparent am I? How painfully obvious is it that all I want to do is see him again, be with him again?
I've done everything I can to forget him, forget our kiss, over the past couple months.
But the moment I saw his text, it was almost impossible not to squeal like a girl and answer immediately.
Maybe I should have asked him over to me instead. But then he would have felt like he had to buy tickets, and I don't think he can afford them. How can I work around that?
Me
Or maybe it would be easier if I fly you down and then we can use my rink. There'll be no issues getting private time that way
Shit, shit, fuck. That came out all wrong.
Me
Private rink time, I mean, not private time
It's not a public rink, so we wouldn't have to worry about public schedules. Or passes or whatever. If you want
Well, if I didn't seem like a complete mess before, I sure do now.
I set down my phone, clasping my hands to keep them from picking it back up.
No more texting until he gets back to me.
I sound like a desperate child. But then, I feel like a desperate child.
Like I'd do just about anything to have Evan here with me.
My phone dings. I snatch it up and turn it over to see the message.
Evan
It's not as straightforward for you to come here. The university is pretty protective of its rink, and while I could probably get you a visitor's pass, it might include some extra publicity on your part.
Oh, ok. He was checking out the details. That’s a good sign, right?
Evan
Feels weird to ask you for a favor and then let you fly me down, though. And I'm not sure I can afford a hotel down there. Plus my schedule is pretty packed.
Yes! He's thinking about it. He's really thinking about it. Even his objections sound weak, like he wants it to happen but hates to ask. Or agree, I guess.
Me
It's honestly just as much a favor for me as you. Maybe even more. Max is breathing down my neck
Evan
I'm not sure that's true.
Me
Did you miss the fact that he was only five points behind me at Worlds? You should definitely come down here. You can stay with me. We can make it a long weekend if that helps
Oh, fuck, is that too much again? I just don't know. I've never done this before. Never wanted to spend time with someone like this.
Evan
Are you sure? It still feels weird.
Me
I have never been more sure about anything in my life
It's painfully true, but I hope he takes it as a joke.
I'm left with another long pause, though.
What is he thinking? I wish I could see his face.
I wish I'd had the guts to hit the video chat button.
Could I do it now? I mean, we're planning a visit, so surely we can video chat. It's more efficient, right?
Before I can second-guess myself yet again, I hit the button. Guess I’m all about the impulsive decisions this evening. And then hold my breath. Please say yes, please say yes. Hit that accept button, please.
Evan
Did you mean to do that?
Shit, that's bad. It's not quite a no, but it's far from a yes.
Me
Yeah, but we can keep texting if that's better
And now it's my phone that's ringing with a video chat request. Holy shit. He wants to video chat! My fingers fumble a little as I hit the accept button, but luckily I don't mess it up. And Evan's face fills my screen.
He looks different than what I remember. Not a lot, but a little. A bit more filled out, less lean, as if he too has eaten more than he usually does during the off season. It looks good on him though.
He’s reclined on an ugly brown couch and—I squint, trying to make out whatever’s in his background. Is it a piece of artwork? A poster? It’s bright, cheery, at odds with the brown color palette permeating what I can see of his space. Even the walls are a brownish beige.
Then he smiles, and my heart stops. Who cares what his room looks like, when that smile is in it?
It's somehow better than I remember. It lights up every shadow in my too-big living room.
"Hey." His voice sounds exactly how I remember.
Just a bit of gravel. When he talks more, I might be able to catch the hint of a Canadian accent.
Which spikes straight through my body every time.
"Hey." Now I'm the one grinning like an idiot, but I can't stop myself. It's so nice to see him again, to hear him again. He's so beautiful.
How did I ever believe I was straight? No question how Evan got through that misbelief, but it's astonishing that I thought so. Nothing about my attraction to him has changed since I last saw him.
"You look good." Astonishingly, I'm not the one saying it. Even if it's what I'm thinking.
"You do too." His eyes dip away from mine, and I think he's taking in my face. My mouth, maybe. Or is that asking too much?
Then he goes back to looking at his camera and smiles again. "You got tan."
I did? Oh, right, yes, of course I did. Evan clearly makes me lose my mind. "My mom makes me go outside to work out for a couple of hours every day now. And it's, you know, summer, so sun. Even here."
"It's summer?" His eyes crinkle. "Are you sure? Because it's definitely not summer here." He spins his phone around, and I'm given a dizzying view of what I assume to be the walls of his apartment, all that same sad brown. Then I'm looking out the window into the street. Where there's snow.
"Snow? It's April. How is there snow?"
He laughs, and the phone swivels back to his face. "I live in Canada, remember?"
"Of course I remember, but it's April!"
His gorgeous dark eyes are light amber right now with his laughter. How had I not noticed how much they change? Well, now I have, and I'll never forget it. "Honestly, we didn't have snow two days ago, but freak blizzard yesterday. So now we do."
"You live in a very strange place."
“Says the guy who lives somewhere with no snow. Right? Are you still in Oakland?”
"Yeah."
“So when you say 'stay with me,' do you mean your family?” His nose wrinkles adorably, and I can’t stop the laugh that bubbles out.
“No, I have my own place. But if I didn't, they’d be happy to have you. Mom'll probably beg you for pointers for her students. And Dad can use your help getting me in line.”
He does the adorable glance down that I remember. The one that I'm pretty sure means he's blushing, except I can't see it through his skin tone. I want to make him do that as often as possible. How many times can I make him blush if he visits me? "Are you sure it's not too much to ask?"
"I'm really sure, Evan. Come, please."
After an endless three days of waiting, I’m at the Oakland airport. Evan wouldn't let me park in short-term parking, so I'm stuck at the cell-phone waiting area. Impatient. Foot tapping.
I should have waited longer before leaving. I was way too excited to do so.
Finally, the text comes through.
Evan
I'm here and have my luggage. There’s a 4 on a column near me. Is that enough to find me?
My heart gives an uncomfortable thud. Nerves? How am I more nervous about this than I was about my free skate at Worlds? It's just Evan, the sweetest, most accommodating man in the world. What do I have to be nervous about?
Him not wanting me back? Ok, yeah, there's that. But even if he doesn't, it's ok. My skating will improve. His skating will improve. We're friends. We can just hang out like friends do. It's really all I need.
Because what happens if he does want me back? We try to suffer through a long-distance relationship? We have to deal with competing when we're also together? Neither of those sounds like an ideal situation. So maybe it's better if he doesn't.
Except I really want him to.
And oh shit, there he is. His hair is more mussed than usual. He's been running his hands through it, trying to fix the damage the plane seat did. His gray t-shirt is rumpled. He's dodging people with the same grace that he dodges skaters with, even with a suitcase rolling behind him.
My heart thumps again.
I hadn't forgotten his grace. But I had underestimated its effect on me. The way his body moves, even here, nowhere near a rink, is nothing like anyone else. He has the fluidity of a cat and the light-footedness of a gazelle. All wrapped up in one perfect Evan package.
When he gets to the side of the road, directly underneath that 4, he starts glancing in cars, looking at drivers. Of course he is. He has no idea what car I drive. I'm being an asshole.
I pop out of my car, and his face lights up when he sees me.
I can't help it. I slam the door behind me and race over to him, yanking him up in a hug before spinning us in a circle.
Then, remembering where we are, I take a furtive glance around.
No cameras that I can see, no cell phones pointed our way.
But I let go of him anyway, because I can't be too careful.
"I can't believe you're here."
He's already laughing. Already stunning me with that gorgeous smile of his. "You'd better believe it, since I came all this way."
"How was your flight?" I'm trying to grab his suitcase from him, and he's not letting me. So I try to slide his backpack off his shoulders, and he laughs, spinning away from me.
"I've got it. Don't worry. Your car is like ten steps away."
"I know, I'm just so excited to see you. I'm so happy you're here."
His laughter dies out, and he meets my eyes. Suddenly grave. "I'm glad I'm here too. Thank you. Truly."
In answer, I give him another hug. Then start leading him toward my car. Once we've got his luggage sorted and he's in the passenger seat, I turn to him again. “I can’t believe I had this idea three days ago, and here you are!”
He looks suddenly unsure, as if reality is hitting him. “Is it too soon? It’s just my only time out of classes before the end of June.”
“No. Absolutely not. It’s perfect.” I’ve got him for three full days and a couple extra nights. I couldn’t be more excited about it. "Anything in particular you feel like doing first?"
Evan huffs out a laugh. "I have no idea. You're the local. Give me the tour."
"The tour, huh? Sure, we can do that."
"I didn't mean literally right this minute, just in general. Whatever you want to do." He sits back in his seat, and his eyes close for a moment.
The movement makes it obvious what we need to do. "How about we wait for the tour until another day. You're exhausted."
"I'm not," Evan replies, sounding affronted. "It wasn’t that long of a flight."
I'm willing to compromise. "Ok, sure, whatever you want to do, we'll do it."
"But I don’t know what I want to do." The laughter is back in his voice, and I'm thrilled by it. He has not, however, opened his eyes.
So I decide to start by taking him to my house.
It's out of town, in the hills, so it takes longer, I think, than he expects.
He starts shooting me sidelong glances as we continue to drive, and I just smile at him, waiting for him to ask.
He doesn't, so I don't tell him where we're going. Yeah, we’re two stubborn assholes. And I love it.
He's fully awake again by the time we get home. I watch him, enjoying his reaction to my house. To the way his eyes widen as he takes in the hills.
I love it out here. It's really too long of a commute to the rink, but it's worth it for the days I get to spend at home.
A canyon opens up below my house, and this time of year, it's full of wildflowers. When I bought my house, it seemed perfect, but lately it’s felt too big, too lonely for me. Even so, it's worth it for the view.
Evan turns to me, his eyes wide. "This is your house? Seriously? I thought you said you didn't live with your parents."