Chapter Thirteen
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
David had never realised being ignored could feel so loud. He’s constantly aware of the weight of Robbie not talking to him throughout the short trip, though it’s an absurd feeling, considering Robbie’s sitting four rows back and wouldn’t have been able to talk to him regardless. Maybe it’s Oleg sitting beside him, the quiet of him compared to Robbie’s typical chatter. Maybe it’s just the guilt.
On the charter to the hotel, Robbie walks past David without looking at him, and when they get out at the Marriott, Matthews and Whelan both seem to be giving David looks. Not glaring, exactly, but not just looking either. It feels a little like high school, except the looks are different. A little like high school, except in high school he hadn’t really had, well – in high school if anyone ignored David, it wasn’t something he noticed. Certainly not something that made him feel like he does now, heavy, like there’s lead in his stomach.
David goes straight up to his room after he gets his keycard. He’d look for Robbie’s, talk to him, but he still doesn’t know what to say. Besides, Robbie shares a room with Matthews. Does Matthews know what happened? That was probably what the look meant – that Robbie told him about it. Robbie always has had a big mouth.
David immediately tries to shove the thought down, feeling awful for thinking it. That’s precisely what David did with Kiro earlier, wasn’t it? What friends are for, or whatever the saying is. What Robbie was trying to do with him, but David guesses he messed that one up. Robbie probably wouldn’t want to talk to him even if Matthews weren’t there. David can’t blame him.
Kiro’s been sending him supportive texts throughout the day, and David doesn’t want to tell him, but he thinks they might be making him feel worse. You can do it! is not something that feels good to receive when he’s fairly positive he can’t. It also doesn’t help that whenever he gets a text from Kiro, he's illogically hoping for one from Robbie. Even more illogically, there’s a split second every time his phone vibrates when he thinks it might be Jake.
David leaves his phone on the bedside table and lies down. He tells himself he just needs five minutes and then he’ll get up, because he’s being self-pitying, and no one likes self-pitying people. Even Kiro doesn’t, David bets.
His phone buzzes once, and he shuts his eyes, ignores it until another buzz follows, then rolls to sit up. Apparently Kiro is able to tell David’s being self-pitying even from another city.
did u want to talk? he sees instead. Not Kiro — Kiro uses full words. Kiro is in David’s phone book under Volkov, Kirill, and texts from him come up under a name, not a number. Kiro has the same area code, though, a familiar one, followed by seven digits David could probably recite in his sleep.
Unnecessarily, there’s a second text following it, saying its jake .
Talk about what? David responds. It’s probably stupid, paranoid, but he wonders if Jake knew about Robbie too, like Kiro did, knew last night, knew all along. That he somehow knows that David knows too, now, that David doesn’t — that David didn’t want to know. Jake’s friends with Georgie. It’s not like it’d be impossible, especially since Robbie doesn’t seem to care who knows if he’s telling people that easily. And if Kiro’s right – and he usually is – telling someone he thinks is homophobic. David doesn’t understand Robbie at all.
i just mean in general. like how r u?
David stares at his phone for too long, until it goes dark in his hands. He thumbs it back to brightness. I’m fine. he types. How are you?
gally set my pants on fire today so not so gud
Were you wearing them at the time? David asks, feeling the urge to smile for what feels like the first time all day.
ya :( Jake replies, and David loses the battle.
The smile fades quickly, because thinking about Jake is, well. Thinking about Jake.
And for the first time David considers the fact that Robbie didn’t just mention himself, but a boyfriend. An ex, David guesses. That he didn’t just out himself. That if it were David — that it’s been David. That Georgie deserves to know.
He doesn’t have Georgie’s number on his phone. Jake does, he’s sure, but it’d be ridiculous to ask him for his own teammate’s phone number. Instead he types That sucks. and texts Oleg instead, assuming, as an A, that he has it, or that he can get it from Quincy. Oleg answers David’s text promptly, ten digits and no commentary, which David’s grateful for. He’s not sure he could handle one of Oleg’s winky faces right now.
David spends at least ten minutes trying to figure out what to text Georgie, typing out and deleting attempt after attempt. There’s nothing he can put to text that would be obvious but not too obvious, something Georgie would get but someone reading his texts wouldn’t.
It’s David Chapman. he finally decides on. Could you come by my room when you have a minute? 612.
Sure Georgie sends back, and less than five minutes later he’s knocking on David’s door. It’s too soon, David hasn’t thought of what he’s going to say, but then, he doesn’t know if time will help all that much, since he still doesn’t know what to say to Robbie.
Georgie’s easier, at least. David just has to state the facts.
“Come in?” David says, because that’s a good place to start, then, “Maybe sit down?” because he wouldn’t want to be standing in the doorway when someone told him.
“Okay,” Georgie says, taking the chair in the corner, and David sits on the corner of the bed so he’s not hovering over him. That’s as far as he gets, though, before he’s at a loss.
He’s not even sure if it’s his right to tell Georgie what he heard. It’s Robbie’s secret. But then, obviously Georgie already knows Robbie likes men. Robbie offered to tell David the size of Georgie’s —
“Hey,” Georgie says. “You okay?”
“What?” David asks. “Sure, I.”
“What’s up, Chaps?” Georgie asks.
“I uh,” David says, fiddling with the edge of the bedspread, “Robbie told me something today.”
“Okay,” Georgie says, sounding wary now. “And I’m guessing it had to do with me?”
“Yeah,” David says. “That you and him were—”
“Together?” Georgie asks when David doesn’t finish, and David stares at the comforter, nods. “He say anything else?”
“That you fucked him over,” David mumbles.
“That sounds like him,” Georgie says, and David looks up, because he doesn’t sound angry.
“You’re not mad?” David asks warily.
Georgie shrugs. “We were together. I fucked him over,” Georgie says. “It’s not like he said anything untrue.”
“Yeah, but,” David says. “He told me.”
Georgie shrugs again. “You’re not the kind of guy who’d spread it around the room,” Georgie says. “Robbie knows that.”
David chews his lip. That’s not a guarantee you have about anyone, really. Certainly not someone you’ve known for a month, in Georgie’s case. David wouldn’t, of course he wouldn’t, but that’s not something Georgie should be so confident about.
“I wouldn’t,” he confirms, though, because he doesn’t want Georgie to worry about that.
“I know,” Georgie says, still too confidently. “And I appreciate you looking out for me, dude, but don’t worry about it, okay? It isn’t some huge secret.”
“Sure,” David says. “I just—”
Anything he could say would be saying too much.
“Robbie telling you have something to do with him avoiding you all day?” Georgie asks.
“You noticed?” David asks.
“He’s not really a subtle guy,” Georgie says.
“No,” David agrees. “I guess not.”
“You defend my honour or something?” Georgie asks, and when David fiddles with the bedspread, “That was a joke.”
“Oh,” David says. “Sorry.”
“Whatever it is, don’t worry about it,” Georgie says. “Robbie gets pissed easy, but he doesn’t usually hold grudges. He’ll be over it in like a day.”
“I don’t really think so,” David says. Even looking down at the bedspread he can feel Georgie looking at him, and it feels like too much attention, too knowing, somehow. “I kind of walked out.”
“Like, what, in the middle of him telling you?” Georgie asks. He’s saying it the same way he said the honour thing, like he’s making another joke.
David’s fingers tighten around a fistful of the comforter.
“Wait, seriously?” Georgie asks. “Fuck, Chaps.”
“I know,” David says. “I panicked.”
It’s easier to say it to Georgie than it would be to Robbie, like practice. Maybe if he practices enough he could manage to say it to Robbie without choking on it first. He panicked. It isn’t a very good excuse, but it’s true.
“Hit a little too close to home, huh?” Georgie asks. “You tell him that, he’d understand.”
It takes a moment for David to get the implication, but when he does it hits like a blow, the kind of hit that knocks the air out of you, makes it impossible to breathe.
David tries to deny it, but he gags on the words before they can leave his mouth.
“David?” Georgie says. “Aw, fuck.”
“Hey,” Georgie says, from much closer now, and David flinches when the bed shifts under his weight, a hand settling on his back, resting, heavy, over his pounding heart. “It’s okay. It’s fine, I’m not going to tell anyone, okay? It’s just between us.”
“Does everyone—” David gets out.
“No,” Georgie says, “This is going to sound really fucking arrogant, I promise I’m not an egotistical douche, but I kind of notice when people are attracted to me?”
David feels himself going redder, skin hot and tight, choking him.
“Whoa, come here,” Georgie says, pulling David in, and David breathes fast and shallow into Georgie’s neck.
Georgie keeps one hand on his back, rubbing slowly, another settling in David’s hair, light enough that David could pull away if he wanted to. “It’s okay,” Georgie murmurs, and David feels it more than hears it, the same way he can feel Georgie’s pulse, slow, or maybe just slow in comparison to the rapid, nauseating pace of his own heart.
“I’m sorry,” David manages.
“Don’t be,” Georgie says. “Can I help? What can I do?”
David shakes his head, can’t think of a thing. After some time — he doesn’t know how long — his heart stops feeling like it’s going to beat its way out of his chest, and he becomes more aware of how awkward this position must be for Georgie, one knee on the bed, precariously balanced, bracketing David’s body like a shield. David’s so close that if he turned his head his lips would brush Georgie’s throat.
He pulls back, and Georgie’s hand slips out of his hair. “I’m sorry,” he repeats.
“Seriously, don’t be,” Georgie says. “I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to — are you okay?”
“Sure,” David says shakily.
“I mean it,” Georgie says, face close to his, as serious as David’s ever seen him. David thought his eyes were brown, but close up they’re hazel. He wonders, faintly hysterically, if Robbie knows that, if he thinks of them the way David thinks of Jake’s, frustrated that his eyes can’t just be one colour. It’s not a question he could ever ask him. “I’m not going to say a thing to anyone, okay? I wouldn’t.”
David kisses him.
There’s a split second that seems frozen, Georgie’s mouth slightly parted against his, lips soft, every place they’re touching lit up, but then Georgie’s putting his hands on David’s shoulders, gently pushing him away.
“I’m sorry, I—” David mumbles, can’t finish. He tries to pull back further, mortified, but Georgie’s hands tighten on his shoulders, holding him in place.
“Stop saying sorry,” Georgie says. “You don’t have to apologise, okay?”
“I shouldn’t have,” David says.
“It’s not that I’m not attracted to you,” Georgie says. “You’re fucking gorgeous, like, seriously. But you’re my teammate, and—”
“Didn’t stop you before,” David mutters before he can help himself.
“—and you’re Robbie’s friend,” Georgie continues, like David didn’t say anything. “And Jake’s my friend.”
David goes hot. “What about Jake?” he asks.
“It’s a pretty dick move to fuck a friend’s ex,” Georgie says. “Especially when he’s clearly not over you.”
“Jake told you?” David asks, something welling up in him, tight and ugly and more scared than he’s been yet. Robbie telling him didn’t feel like this. Even Georgie knowing about David without him saying a thing didn’t.
“No,” Georgie says, letting go of David to settle on the bed next to him. “No, he just — basically stared at you all of last night like a tragic hero? It was kind of obvious.”
“He didn’t tell you,” David says, needing to hear it again.
“I mean, I guessed?” Georgie says. “I asked him about it after you left. He tried to deny it.”
David doesn’t know how he feels about that. Relief, but rejection too. It’s a foolish combination, especially since David’s told Jake not to talk about him. He shoves the latter feeling down hard, focuses on the relief, tries to make it the only feeling. He fails at that too. He’s failed at a lot today.
“He’s not a very good liar,” Georgie says.
“No,” David mumbles. “Not really.”
“Good guy, though,” Georgie says.
“Sure,” David says. He is. Even when he isn’t, he’s still trying to be. “What’d you do to fuck Robbie over?”
It can’t be the same thing that Jake did. Not with the way Georgie’s reacting, all cool like it’s no big deal to know, to tell.
Georgie blows out a breath. “Fucked around on him,” he says. “When I was in Cleveland and he was back in Boston.”
David’s never — David doesn’t get that, but then, David doesn’t exactly —
“Why?” he asks.
“Sometimes missing someone gets bad enough to make you resent the hell out of them,” Georgie says. “I don’t know if you know what I mean.”
“No,” David says. “I do. Not like. A relationship, but. I do.”
“Look,” Georgie says. “Robbie wouldn’t say shit about you, you know? If you told him, it wouldn’t get past him.”
“Just says shit about you?” David asks.
“Kind of involves him,” Georgie says. “And I told him he could tell who he wanted years ago.”
“Oh,” David says, then, “I can’t.”
“You don’t have to,” Georgie says. “I’m just saying, think about it. You can trust him.”
“Why do you stick up for him?” David asks. “He hates you.”
Georgie flinches, and David feels guilty. “I’m just telling the truth,” Georgie says. “Look, I should — do you want me to stick around? Or I can go get Kurmazov if you want.”
“Why?” David asks.
Georgie shrugs. “Sucks to be alone sometimes,” he says.
“Oh,” David says. “No, I’m fine.”
“Sure?” Georgie asks.
David nods.
“Okay,” Georgie says. He stands up, into David’s space, and David looks up at him warily.
Georgie puts his hands on David’s shoulders. “I know I already said it, but your secret really is safe with me,” he says, squeezing his shoulders for emphasis.
“Thanks,” David says. “Really.”
“Yep,” Georgie says. “See you in the morning.”
Once Georgie’s gone the mortification creeps back in, along with the leaden feeling. The two, together, feel like the worst kind of nausea, the kind you can’t purge, and David lies back on the bed, on top of the comforter, squeezing his eyes shut so hard he sees flashes of light beneath his lids.
“Fuck,” he says, so quiet he can barely hear himself, and it seems like an accurate summary of the day.