20. Evan #2
CJ stilled, and Evan tried not to hold his breath as he waited for an answer.
He’d wanted clarity for a couple of weeks, wanted a definition he could hold on to.
He turned back to the stove and grabbed a pot to fill with water for pasta so he’d have something to do with his hands, and so he wouldn’t have to see CJ’s face if he wanted something different.
The kitchen suddenly felt smaller and hotter, and the scent of garlic and onion filled the air.
“Yeah,” CJ said quietly. “That’s what we’re doing. If you want it to be.”
Evan let out a breath, then felt CJ move behind him just before one hand landed on Evan’s hip and the other braced on the counter next to him. They stood there for a moment while CJ’s thumb brushed absentmindedly against the fabric of Evan’s T-shirt.
“You’re very quiet,” CJ murmured.
“I’m cooking.”
“You’re acting like you’re stirring pasta, but you haven’t moved the spoon once.”
Evan looked down. The spoon was in his hand, suspended motionless over the pot. “Shut up.”
CJ laughed softly and his hand skimmed up Evan’s back before gripping his nape and giving it a squeeze.
Evan set the spoon down and turned until they were chest to chest. CJ dropped his hands immediately and stepped back to give him room. Evan searched CJ’s face for uncertainty, but CJ only looked wary.
“I do,” Evan said.
CJ tilted his head. “You do what?”
“I want it to be. I want us to be…” Evan trailed off and tried to look away, but CJ cupped his face and turned his head until their eyes met.
“Good.” CJ smiled at him, and Evan’s heart kicked up. “I’m serious, Ev. I’m not here because it’s convenient. I live three doors down, so that would be a really bad excuse. I’m here because when I’m not, I spend half the night wishing I was.”
Steam curled up from the pot behind Evan and he turned back to the pasta, giving it a stir. In their time apart, CJ had become someone who knew exactly what to say, and Evan had trained himself to avoid moments where he would have to give an answer in return.
“I’m not good at this,” he said finally. “At relationships, I mean.”
“So we can be bad together.” CJ stepped up next to him again. “It’s like learning any new skill. Sometimes we’re gonna fuck things up. As long as we keep practicing and we don’t quit, we’ll figure it out.”
Evan laughed, and something inside him relaxed as he turned to look at CJ, who was still smiling and still standing too close to Evan, like he’d never left.
Evan reached out and grabbed the front of his cut-off hoodie in one fist and tugged him forward.
CJ came to him without resistance, eyes bright and focused on Evan in a way that always made him feel slightly off balance.
CJ opened his mouth, no doubt ready with some smug remark, but Evan kissed him before he could speak.
It was meant to be quick, just to keep CJ quiet, but then CJ made a surprised sound against his mouth and immediately kissed him back harder as one hand slid to Evan’s waist and the other gripped his hip.
The kiss deepened before Evan could decide whether to stop it, and by the time they broke apart, CJ was grinning like he’d won something.
Then the sharp smell of scorched garlic hit the air.
“Shit.” Evan twisted to grab an oven mitt and yanked the oven door open to pull the vegetables out, giving them a stir to make sure they weren’t stuck to the pan.
Behind him, CJ laughed so hard he had to brace both hands on his knees. “Man, you are so easily distracted.”
“Get the plates,” Evan said through gritted teeth.
CJ saluted. “Yes, boyfriend.”
Evan froze and silence dropped into the room. After a moment, CJ spoke cautiously. “Too soon?”
Evan kept his eyes on the food in front of him. He tried to ignore the strange flutter in his chest, but it had been a long time since CJ had called him that. Long enough that he didn’t realize how much it would affect him to be claimed again.
“Get the plates, CJ,” he said.
His voice had been surprisingly steady. He drained the penne pasta, mixed in the vegetables, then drizzled olive oil over the pasta and sprinkled it with a generous grating of fresh parmesan.
CJ moved to the cabinet and pulled down two plates. He set them on the counter and leaned against it, watching Evan plate pasta and vegetables.
“You’re blushing,” CJ said finally.
“I’m standing over hot food.”
“Okay,” CJ said, amusement lacing his voice.
“You want dinner or not?”
“I want a lot of things.” CJ waggled his eyebrows and leered at Evan.
Evan shoved a plate into CJ’s chest. “Start with carbs.”
CJ took the plate, still grinning, and made his way to the small table by the windows overlooking the bay. Evan followed, and for a few minutes, they ate in comfortable silence. Then CJ stabbed the penne with his fork, shoved it in his mouth, and stared contemplatively at Evan.
“You know,” CJ said. He lowered the fork and crossed his arms, leaning back in the chair. “We don’t have to go.”
Evan frowned. “Go where?”
“The All-Star Game.”
Evan shook his head and snorted. “We can’t just skip it.”
“Players skip it all the time,” CJ pointed out. “All those players with mysterious tightness in some important part of their body that no one knew about until they backed out? You really think that’s legit?”
Evan chewed slowly, then leaned his elbows on the table and looked at CJ. “Why would you turn it down?”
CJ shrugged. “I’ve done it before. It’s a lot of standing around while people ask if you’re having fun.”
“You usually are having fun,” Evan pointed out.
“During the actual baseball parts, sure. But the rest of it? I can take or leave it.” CJ took another bite before speaking again. “Plus, you look like the idea of it makes you want to eat glass.”
Evan sighed and pushed his food around on his plate. “It’s supposed to be an honor.”
“It is,” CJ agreed.
“I’m supposed to appreciate it.”
CJ reached over and placed a hand on Evan’s arm, waiting for him to look up. “You can appreciate the honor and still not want the circus attached to it.”
Evan smiled faintly before turning to stare out the window. “If we decline,” he said carefully, “would you want to do something instead?”
CJ’s expression brightened instantly. “I’m so glad you asked.”
“I already regret it.” Evan turned back to his food. “Forget I said anything.”
“Too late,” CJ said. “Let’s go to a cabin.”
Evan narrowed his eyes. “A cabin.”
“Mountains. Trees. Maybe a lake.” CJ tilted his head and scanned Evan from head to toe. “Maybe you in a flannel, which suddenly seems important to me.”
“It’s July, and I don’t own flannel.”
“We can fix that.”
“What about me says I’m outdoorsy?” Evan frowned. “Don’t answer that. Clearly you’ve been thinking about this.”
“Not really.” CJ shrugged. “It popped into my head when your face did that thing when your name was announced.”
“What thing?” Evan was instantly sorry he asked because he really didn’t need to know.
“That face you make when you’re being forced to do something and you’d rather have a root canal,” CJ said like it was common knowledge.
“I don’t have an expression for that,” Evan protested.
CJ gave him a long look that was laced with fondness. “You absolutely do.”
Evan shook his head, but he couldn’t deny that the knot of dread was already starting to loosen at just the thought of not going. “A cabin,” he repeated.
“A few days out of the city,” CJ said, and the longing in his voice made Evan want to say yes immediately. “No practice, none of the guys bugging us, no baseball. Just us.”
Evan looked down at his plate. It was too easy to picture. Quiet mornings with coffee, on a deck overlooking trees, with no schedule to follow and a few days where they didn’t have to pretend all the time. It sounded dangerous.
It sounded perfect.
Evan took a bite of his food to buy a moment before speaking. “Somewhere with air-conditioning,” he finally said.
CJ’s grin broke wide and triumphant across his face. “Is that a yes?”
“It’s a yes.”
CJ didn’t hesitate. He had his phone out and was already halfway into planning mode, muttering to himself about weekday availability and whether Evan owned anything remotely resembling hiking clothes.
His energy filled the room with easy warmth, and Evan leaned back in his chair to watch him.
For so long, everything between them had felt like balancing on a knife’s edge.
One wrong move would slice them apart and send them back to where they’d been before.
But now CJ was talking about finding a place they could go have a few days that belonged only to them, and something that felt like hope settled in Evan’s chest. He took another bite of food and continued watching CJ plan.
Maybe it wouldn’t be easy, and maybe they weren’t meant to last, but for the first time since they’d started this thing, Evan let himself want it anyway.