Chapter Six #2
Amélie had studied history with him in Italy, though her focus had been more on fashion history than anything else.
She’d moved to Stanford to get a master’s in marketing a year before Luca finished his BA and decided to brave the NHL.
She was beautiful in the toothless way fashionable French girls were.
She spoke decent English and didn’t have strong opinions about Québécois.
(Luca asked before he introduced them.) Actually, Amélie didn’t have strong opinions about much of anything.
She was just…nice. Or so he’d thought. As soon as Luca set them up, Breezy started asking insightful, interested questions about her degree and her career plans.
It should have been perfect.
Instead, within a month, Amélie had dumped Breezy and told him his heart wasn’t in it.
Whatever else she’d said must have been so heartbreaking it had driven him to drink.
When Luca got home from the All-Star Game, he found Breezy sleeping on the couch, unshaven and with five empty beer cans stacked up on the coffee table next to him.
Shortly after, he announced his intention to quit dating, and he’d stuck to it ever since.
“I did like her,” Breezy said.
“So why…”
“Liking people isn’t the problem. I like everyone. I also liked Brittany, and I liked Chloe, and I liked Vanessa. I liked every other girl my parents set me up with, but it’s never enough.”
Luca frowned, trying to parse the phrasing. Was there a secret second meaning to the word “like” that he was supposed to know? Should he ask Breezy to have this conversation in Italian?
Breezy scrubbed a hand through his hair in frustration. “I enjoyed spending time with all those girls and going out on fancy dates and having someone to text on boring plane rides or call after a game, and I loved cuddling on the couch.”
“I know.” Luca couldn’t help the sour note in his voice.
More than once, he’d walked in on Breezy and his flavor of the week all cozied up on the couch under the soft, fluffy blankets, watching a romantic movie by candlelight.
It was awful every time. He could not stop the stupid part of his psyche that wanted desperately for it to be him under Breezy’s arm, him with his head on Breezy’s chest, him who Breezy kissed idly on the top of the head every now and again.
Luca hated cuddling.
When his university girlfriend broke up with him, she said he never had time for her, and when he did, he wasn’t much for casual touching. She complained he treated her like just another friend whenever they weren’t in bed.
The irony of Luca being just another friend to Breezy now did not go unnoticed.
Heedless of Luca’s distraction, Breezy continued. “And I don’t know what more there is, but there must be something I’m missing because it was never enough.”
“I…” Luca turned Breezy’s words over in his mind, trying to find the problem. “I do not understand.”
Breezy huffed out a sigh. “Me neither. You know, Amélie asked if I was gay when she called it off. She said it would make sense. I guess I suck in bed or something.”
No. No, absolutely not. Luca couldn’t believe it for a second. No one as caring and generous as Breezy could be terrible in bed. He made a dismissive sound in the back of his throat.
Breezy shrugged. “She’s right. I mean, not about the gay thing, but the sex thing.
I guess I never get all hard up for it. Like, some guys make the dumbest choices to get some tail.
Vanderbilt has a Raya account with pictures of his actual face, did you know?
Why bother using a fake name? And, God, the shit Dmitriyev does… I’m never that desperate for it.”
Dmitriyev? The small corner of Luca’s brain not dedicated to taking the words “hard up” and “desperate” and applying them to a mental image of Breezy naked wondered what he meant about their goalie.
“And you hook up all the time, or you did last year,” Breezy continued.
He patted Luca on the thigh. “I never figured out how you do it, you know—meet people and make a spark happen. I’d go out with whoever someone else had introduced me to.
And then, I’d kiss them when we’d been seeing each other long enough that it would be weird not to.
And we’d…you know…because you have to at some point in a relationship but…
” His shoulders hunched. “I don’t know. I guess I was never as into it as I was supposed to be. ”
“There is no ‘supposed to be,’” Luca scoffed. “If you are not interested, you do not have to do it.”
“I’m not not interested?” Breezy didn’t sound sure of himself. “I guess I’m not interested in the right way? I don’t know…I tried looking it up, but it only made me more confused. The internet is so big.”
“I do not want to know what you googled,” Luca teased.
“Ha ha.” Breezy tossed a pillow at Luca. Luca tossed it back, and Breezy wrapped his arms around it. “I found legit sites. Reading about it didn’t help though. I suck at reading. I need, like, a sex coach to tell me how to fix my game.”
A snicker burst out of Luca. “Imagine Trout—”
“Oh God.” Breezy’s tone of horror matched his shell-shocked expression, a fair reaction to any mention of their former defensive coach. “What an awful idea. But anyway, not dating has been kind of a relief. No one pushing me about what I want and whether I want it enough.”
A rare flash of empathy surged across Luca’s prefrontal cortex, and he began to understand. “That is what bothers you about Tom and Jax coming out, hm? Beyond the team fighting. People asking questions and pushing.”
Breezy nodded miserably. “I know it’s none of my business.
I just…I really, really hate when the team fights.
And there would be reporters all the time, asking about the team and relationships, and then they’d go digging up more stories.
I have no idea how to explain why it never works for me.
And my exes are all people who love tabloids.
What if Amélie said the gay thing to the press, too, and they started asking?
What if I had to come out as straight, Luca?
That would be the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to me.
” A haunted look overtook him. “And a lot of embarrassing things have happened to me.”
Despite knowing it would hurt him, Luca opened his arms and let Breezy slump forward into a hug.
“If it would help,” he hedged. “And if it is something you miss, you can always cuddle me.”
With Breezy warm and solid in his arms, Luca could not imagine sex being even mildly unpleasant with him. Whatever had happened with Amélie, whatever had happened with all his past girlfriends, Breezy lived to be touched.
As if to prove his point, Breezy’s arms squeezed tight around him. “I love you, man.”
Was it possible to die of happiness and heartbreak at the same time?
Luca cleared his throat and pulled away. “I did actually come in here for a reason.”
“Oh, right.” Breezy perked up. “Is it another roomie date?”
Oh Christ. Breezy had cottoned on to the fact that Luca was, essentially, taking him on dates. Oh no. There was no way Breezy hadn’t put two and two together and realized how Luca felt. Had all his talk about girls and his relationship trouble been a subtle way to let Luca down gently?
“Ooh, wait,” Chris said. “We should call them roommate dates. It rhymes. What are we doing today?”
Slack-jawed, Luca stared at him for a moment. He still didn’t know?
God, I love him.
The thought assaulted Luca, left him bruised and confused. He’d known he had feelings, known they were intense and deep, but love?
Love.
What a cruel joke to realize as much after Breezy had reminded him, once again, he was straight and revealed he might not be interested in sex at all. The latter wasn’t bad, but it didn’t match Luca’s desires at all. He wanted sex with Breezy all the time. Maybe he could coach—
Luca cleared his throat. “I got you an appointment with my tailor. I cannot stand to see you in those things you call suits anymore.”
A hurt look crossed Breezy’s face for an instant, and Luca could have kicked himself. Breezy had been vulnerable and open with him, then Luca repaid him with mockery? Thankfully, he had an easy way to make Breezy forget his unkind words. “She is Italian.”
Breezy brightened, forgetting the hurt much faster than Luca forgot his guilt. “Oh man, wait until I tell my family about this!”
They took BART to the Financial District, where Luca’s tailor had a tiny store on the ground floor of a massive high-rise.
It smelled of shoe polish and lavender, a scent profile Luca associated with the walk-in closet in his parent’s house and thus enjoyed.
A handful of mannequins stood in the windows, clothed in classic, elegant suits in charcoal and navy, just like those the men who worked in the building would wear.
Inside, the array of varied fabrics drew the eye far more than the staid display pieces.
“Luca!” Leonora, the shop proprietor and tailor, advanced on them. She wore a suit that was elegance itself, narrow pinstripes showing off her slight, spry figure. Several sewing implements stuck out of the bun she had tied her long, gray-streaked hair into.
“Ciao, bella,” Luca responded, and they exchanged cheek kisses.
She looked Breezy up and down. “What treats have you brought me here?”
Breezy went red up to the very tips of his ears. Luca wanted to lick him. In need of a sex coach, what a joke. Any halfway competent partner would eat him for breakfast and take him out for it afterward.
Belatedly, Luca said, “He speaks Italian.”
“Even better!” Leonora clapped her hands together. “Now, young man, have you ever had a properly tailored suit?”
“I think so?” Breezy said.
“No,” Luca corrected.
“Right. Take off your clothes.” She gestured to the stand for fittings and the chair beside it.
Breezy made a startled, frightened sound.