Page 44 of Man On

Can he tell?

What if he's interested in me?

What if he's not?

Can I be his friend with all of my baggage?

He's not Chris.

"Yo. Blakely!"

I snap to reality, flinching at the sandwich hovering two inches from my face. Cringing at my awkwardness, I accept the plate from Danny with an apologetic smile. "Sorry, I got lost in my thoughts."

"That seems to happen to you a lot," he says with a soft smile. He sits on the opposite end of the small couch, giving me plenty of space.

We eat in silence for a few minutes. Peters comes out, sniffing the air like a dog. Danny points to the counter, where a grilled cheese sandwich is waiting for him. Peters picks up the plate, taking a big bite out of the sandwich.

"Ohmygawd," he groans. “This is better than a blow job.”

“I can’t decide if that’s sad or not,” Danny retorts with a chuckle.

Instead of joining us, Peters goes back to his room. The soft click of his door sounds loud, driving home the point that I'm alone with Danny. The silence feels awkward.

"It is a pretty good sandwich," I say, feeling the need to say something.

"I bet it tastes extra good when you don't eat carbs often."

I laugh, holding up what might actually be the best grilled cheese I've ever eaten. "You're not wrong." Then I pause, my brows pulling together.

It's not like I make a big deal out of my diet, except maybe to Noah, because all he eats is junk. But I keep that between us. Am I coming off like a douche to my teammates?

"I notice a lot of things."

The look on Danny's face has all my limbs turning rigid. My last bite of sandwich turns to ash in my mouth, and it sits on my tongue because I can't seem to swallow.

My eyes must betray my panic. Danny smiles kindly and takes my plate from me.

"Your secret is safe with me," he says.

When his back is turned, I gulp down the rest of my water to clear my mouth and think of how to escape this situation. My mind is racing as quickly as my heart, and the whooshing sound is getting louder in my head.

"There’s no secret to tell," I croak when I finally gain control of my faculties enough to speak.

Danny nods, not pushing or judging. It helps me calm down a little. He takes his seat on the far side of the couch again, turning his body towards me. I can't decide if his pointed look of understanding is making me angry or helping me feel better, but I look away from him, not wanting to make eye contact. My eyes examine the room. It's set up exactly like ours, except the kitchen and sitting room are on opposite sides. Their apartment is tidy, but lived in. There are multiple game consoles, and a lot of pictures displayed on the shelf. For some reason, I'm surprised to find a bronze cross hung over the door. My eyes flick back to Danny, who looks up to follow my gaze.

"That's mine," he says. "My mom hung it up on move-in day. Thankfully Peters didn't mind."

"She's very religious?"

"Oh yeah," he says with a laugh. "Like, super super Catholic."

"And she's okay with..." I'm assuming if he's open at school, his family must be aware. Though it might not be the case.

He looks as though he was expecting the question. "It took her a while to get comfortable with it. But she loves me—every part of me. Even the parts she doesn't understand very well. It helps that Pope Francis is a lot more inclusive of the alphabet community."

"Oh. That's good."

I can't think of anything else to say. There seems to be a blockage in my brain; I'm not processing things at the same speed as usual. This is not the kind of conversation I'm used to having with anyone, much less another guy.

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