Chapter Three #3
Chirs pulled out his phone and checked Instagram.
There was a video of Howie and Mooney doing shooting drills on the team’s official page.
He double tapped to like it and scrolled the comment section briefly, satisfied he couldn’t find upsetting comments about Mooney’s race or the shelter project.
Sometimes, the people who hated the team’s work with LGBTQ kids got militant and commented about it on unrelated posts.
Kayleigh wasn’t always great about deleting those comments right away, so Chris reported them to the site when he found them.
He was getting distracted again. At this rate, he’d never finish his homework.
All right, what worried him? The dating thing and the sex thing. And, God, Mom had texted about some girl she met at the farmer’s market. And if Howie kept going clubbing, risking being seen, he’d get himself outed, and it would be all Chris’s fault and—
Chris took a deep breath and started writing.
Number One: I keep finding out people are gay.
After some consideration, he added in parentheses, (which isn’t bad, but I can’t tell anyone, and also, why me?).
When Luca’s key scraped in the lock, he’d gotten no further than the solitary sentence staring back at him, and he had to stuff the notebook and the pens under the couch cushion.
Luca couldn’t know about all the gay stuff happening on their team.
Also, Chris didn’t want him finding out about the therapy homework and, consequently, about how bad Chris was at therapy.
Luca didn’t need more reasons to think Chris was an idiot.
Chris couldn’t handle him giving up in disgust and moving out.
Of course, hiding his notebook left Chris sitting on the couch alone in front of a blank TV screen, which wasn’t a super normal thing for him to be doing.
“What are you up to?” Luca asked once he’d hung up his leather jacket and set his shoes in the shoe rack. He dropped a big canvas bag on the kitchen counter.
Chris had thrown his own bomber jacket haphazardly over the arm of the sofa when he got home, and he’d left his shoes in a pile by the door. He was the worst roommate.
“Nothing,” he said far too quickly. “Just got home. You? I mean, what were you up to?”
“Had some things to take care of.”
That sounded more as if he’d been running errands than as if he’d been on a super-secret date, but what did Chris know?
As evidenced by how lonely and gross he’d felt watching Mooney and Mara today, he’d never been close to as comfortable as them with any girl he’d dated.
He was a shitty dater. Boyfriend. Whatever.
Maybe “things to take care of” meant “romantic brunch” in some new dating code no one had told Chris about.
As Luca disappeared into the bathroom to wash his hands, Chris pulled his notepad and pen out from under the couch and scribbled, Number Two: Bad at dating. Underneath, he added, Number Two B: Bad at sex.
“So,” Luca said as he emerged. “We will not have much time for the next few weeks, and Tom will be watching what we eat.”
Chris grimaced. Tom wouldn’t ever say anything, but road trips with the team meant a lot of shared meals. When people ordered things with too much dairy or sugar, Tom got the exact same expression as his dog Artemis when Tom didn’t give her treats.
“I thought, for our last free night, we could do something special?”
Pleasure and excitement thrummed through Chris’s veins. “Really? The two of us?”
Luca gave him a sardonic look. “Do I have any other roommates?”
Luca hanging out with Chris for lack of better offers wasn’t precisely what Chris wanted. But his ideal scenario where Luca told him he appreciated Chris’s friendship and asked for a hug or maybe even a full-blown cuddle didn’t seem likely, so Chris would take it.
“Okay, what are we doing?” he asked. “Are we going somewhere? Should I get changed?”
“Oh,” Luca said. “That would have been— No, I thought we would spend time here. I got— Look, stay where you are, and I will take care of everything.”
Chris relaxed into the couch and pulled out his phone to check Instagram and TikTok.
Nothing new on the team accounts since he’d last checked, and the official NHL account was posting about other teams today.
Luca went to the kitchen and rummaged in his bag.
After a moment, Chris heard the clatter of plates and silverware.
Food, then. His stomach rumbled happily.
This was much better than having to hide out in his room while Luca romanced some girl.
He couldn’t tell if the relief at not having to watch his roommate with someone else outweighed his pure unfiltered joy that Luca actually wanted to spend time with him.
He shouldn’t mind the idea of Luca dating seriously.
Luca would be such a good boyfriend, steady and funny and handsome.
But Chris enjoyed having all his attention and, selfishly, wanted him to stay single.
Ever conscientious about doing his homework, he got his list out again and added, Number Three: Luca will get tired of me and move out.
After about ten minutes, Luca emerged from the kitchen. He carried two plates balanced on a tray, both of them piled high with food. He set the tray down on the coffee table and asked, “Have you ever had burrata?”
“No, what is it? Sounds Italian.”
A little smirk graced Luca’s face. “How important is the meal plan to you?”
Chris shrugged. It wasn’t unimportant, but he didn’t live and die by it.
“Burrata is a soft mozzarella with heavy cream in the center.”
Chris’s mouth dropped open on a groan.
“I also got us an heirloom tomato salad, some fresh focaccia, and some real Parma ham.”
“My mouth is watering, dude. Where did you get all this shit?”
“There is a cheese store in Berkeley with good reviews,” Luca said nonchalantly. “They also sell fresh bread.”
Chris stared at him. “You went to Berkeley?”
“Yes?” Luca looked at him as if this was a totally normal thing to do on a day off.
“There are cheese stores this side of the Bay. How did you even get there?”
“I took BART. I wanted to get the right cheese.” Luca reached for a plate and shoved it into Chris’s hands as if he hadn’t admitted to taking a forty-plus-minute ride on public transit to buy cheese. “Here.”
He grabbed his own plate and turned on the TV. The Sports Network showed a recap of last night’s soccer game, but Luca switched to Netflix and toggled to the romantic comedy section. “Pick something.”
“You hate these movies.”
“I don’t hate them,” Luca protested.
Chris studied him. He didn’t look like he had a concussion, but you couldn’t always tell.
With a frustrated sigh, Luca scrolled for a while and then picked a film at random. It took all of three minutes into the movie for him to start critiquing everything, from the leading man’s fashion sense to the leading lady’s common sense.
Finally, normal Luca behavior.
Chris dug into his meal as he ignored the movie.
The food tasted so good it deserved his whole attention.
The cheese melted soft and creamy on his tongue; the salad Luca had set it atop burst into rich, acidic mouthfuls; and the bread was fantastic, crisp and crunchy on the outside, and soft and airy within.
Usually, Chris ate fast. He’d gotten into the habit early.
Matty hated to wait, but Dad wouldn’t let him leave the table until everyone finished.
They would both sit there watching him eat, and it made Chris feel self-conscious, especially when he was younger and had a thick layer of puppy fat. This meal, though, he had to savor.
He arranged a slice of ham on the bread for a perfect bite and let his eyes close as he enjoyed it.
He wouldn’t miss anything in the movie. The lead was still trying to navigate her high-pressure city job and her clingy rural family.
The love interest hadn’t even told her he’d been secretly in love with her for years yet.
Next, Chris took a forkful of tomato salad with a little bit of creamy cheese and held it on his tongue before he chewed.
He sighed in satisfaction as he went for more bread.
As the love interest used his whittling business to supply handmade artisan crafts for the lead’s work auction, saving her job and risking his own livelihood, Chris made his way through the meal, pausing every now and again to voice his appreciation.
He licked his lips to get the last of cream off and then used his last piece of bread to mop up the salad dressing before placing the piece of burrata he’d saved on top and putting it all in his mouth.
He groaned as the last molecules of flavor left his mouth.
Satisfied, he set his plate on the coffee table and leaned into the couch. “That was fantastic. Thanks, man.”
“Uh-huh.” Luca’s voice was tight. When Chris looked over at him, he found his roommate hunched over with a pillow clutched between his belly and thighs. He’d hardly touched his own food.
“Are you okay? Does your stomach hurt?” The preseason didn’t matter for standings, and Lindy might not play them in the starting lineup for the first few games while she tested the rookies and AHL guys, but it would suck to miss out because of a stomach bug.
“No,” Luca said through gritted teeth.
“Luca? What’s wrong?”
“I’m fine.” Luca got to his feet and stalked off to the kitchen.
Chris watched him go helplessly. If he followed now, Luca might get more upset, and Chris didn’t know what he’d done wrong.
He’d never made Luca truly angry, not the way Luca was with Hayes and sometimes Vanderbilt, even though he thought no one noticed.
With Chris, he’d been disbelieving and mocking, sure, but Chris could live with any of those.
All that mattered was that Luca liked being around him, whether it was to make fun of Chris or because he wanted to be friends. Chris would rather not know which.
He looked over to the TV screen. The love interest kissed the lead in front of the sun setting over her parents’ failing orchards and told her she had to decide whether she wanted her old life or a new start with him.
“Quit your job already,” he muttered. “The orchard needs you.”
But the movie had only been running for half an hour, so she went back to her terrible job in the city—Chicago, Chris guessed, though he wasn’t great at identifying American skylines, despite flying over most of them several times a year.
Anyway, all the ground-level shots were clearly filmed in Toronto.
Chris sighed and crossed his arms. Why could nothing go right for good people?
Luca came out of the kitchen with two real, alcoholic beers just as the lead told her boss off for being a sexist asshole.
“I figured we could indulge once before the season,” he said and offered one to Chris.
“You’re not mad at me?”
Luca looked at him for a long moment, his dark eyes inscrutable. “No. Of course not.”
Maybe Chris could scratch the last item off his list of things to be worried about.