“Have a good day, Theodore.” The principal winks, passing by, as he strolls out the door.

The bell jingles as Teddy swiftly closes it again.

“That’s a blast from the past.” Nichol chuckles.

Teddy’s face is a bright red ember, averting his eyes, he rushes to the washroom, shutting the door with a swift sweep of his arm, and folds over the toilet. Everything in his stomach empties in two retching heaves.

He hovers over the sink before splashing his face with cool water, breathing deep, and shaking off the stars plaguing his vision.

When he opens the door, Nichol is standing there, offering up a glass of water. “Here,” he says.

“Thank you.” Teddy accepts and swigs the cool liquid.

“You good?” Nichol quirks a brow.

“Yeah,” Teddy breaks for air.

“Is that going to be a problem for you?” Nichol folds his arms across his chest, flagging a limp wrist, pointing a finger at the front door.

“Umm . . .” Teddy pauses to reflect.

“I’m happy to corroborate whatever story you want to tell… if he happens to gossip.” Nichol shifts his weight onto one hip and kicks a foot out.

Teddy stares blankly.

“If you’restraight, it’s cool… Secret’s safe with me.” Nichol spins on his heel and marches to the stools, collecting his coat, draped over one, and jingling the rental key fob from its pocket.

“Wait, what?” Teddy smooths down his beard with the swipe of his palm. “That’s not the caseat all. I’m gay, everyone knows, “ he chuffs.

“Okay… good,” Nichol says, relieved. “I’m going to use the bathroom and I’ll get out of your hair,” he says, moving toward the door.

“Do you want some coffee?” Teddy says, as his bare feet slap on the tile floor, trotting toward the coffee pot.

“Sure,” Nichol calls from the bathroom.

Teddy pours two medium cups, setting them on the counter and gathering oat milk from the fridge. He adds it to each cup with two packets of sweetener for his own, and takes a sip, returning the milk to the fridge.

Nichol emerges from the washroom with his hair dampened and sculpted into place and his t-shirt flipped right-side-out.

“Thank you.” He collects the steaming cup from the counter, blowing over the rippling surface, and sips with a satisfied moan.

“Hungry?” Teddy isn’t ready for him to leave.

Nichol grimaces at first, but then shrugs and nods. “Sure.”

“I can make us some eggs… bacon… toast?” He lists off options while browsing the contents of the fridge.

“Eggs and toast sound good.” Nichol lifts a leg over a stool and settles down, draping his coat over the next, taking another sip of coffee.

Teddy goes to work, firing up the stove—after moving a tray of cookies—plops four eggs into a cast-iron frying pan and four slices of bread into the toaster oven. He peers back at Nichol with a soft smile. All of last night’s aftermath has left his temples and his stomach is settled.

Chapter 11

Nichol

Full Bellies and Butterful Glutes

Nichol perches on the stool, facing the kitchen, propped on his elbows at the counter. The barefoot baker slips a frilly pink apron over his unkempt bed hair, knotting it around his waist using thick freckled forearms. He rolls the sleeves of the thin white t-shirt, offering a delicious view of biceps, flexing and softening as he works, scrambling the eggs and buttering toast. His fingers pinch seasonings and scatter them over the pan with elegant flair. Snug denim hugs the curvature of his sculptedglutes, down to his bulging calves and his short wide-set toes wriggle as his feet sweep about the kitchen floor.