Page 181 of Catch Me
“Would you listen if I could?”
“Sure, but why?”
“Because I couldn’t live with myself when this is all over if I didn’t at least try.”
He was silent, so I decided to keep going, drawing on all of those questions I’d memorized, the ones I’d agonized over for so long simply because he’d asked them. For a while, I’d wondered if it would’ve changed anything if I’d told him more. Maybe we would have been closer or I would’ve found a way to rely on him when it mattered.
“Yes, my family had pets,” I said, thinking back to when he’d picked me up at the airport. “Before my parents divorced, we had a beagle named Bella. Was I watching the sunset? The picture of Tessa in your backyard was the sunset I drew that night. How old am I? I was twenty-two, now I’m twenty-three. Was I uncomfortable at your house the first night? Yes, because I was confused.”
“Okay,” he interrupted. “I get it.”
“Am I quiet or introverted? No, but talking put me at risk back then because I was hiding. What was I thinking about in your kitchen before our troll conversation? I was amazed by how good of a person you are, and I realized that I both respected you and wanted to know you better. What sorts of things set me off? Anything that reminded me what I was hiding from, which was why I was always angry at you. What was wrong when we cooked pot pies? You were cleaning the flour off my face and I wanted you to touch me more, and I was getting lost in your eyes. It was one of the times that it really set in how I was beginning to feel about you.”
“Roman, okay.”
“What happened while I was there that made my thoughts about gay people change? You started to open me up. Why would I rather people not see more of me? That’s obvious. Why didn’t it work with the people I dated? Also obvious. Was I the one who always texted you first? Yes. I couldn’t breathe if I went too long without talking to you. What was wrong in the swimming hole before I tried to kiss you? I was fucking desperate for you.”
I stepped closer to him. The look in his eyes right now made me think he was close to breaking.
“Am I gay? Fuck yes, I am. Did it ever mean something to me? Always, and it still does. What do I see in your eyes? I could never capture it because I’d never understood it. I hadn’t felt it, or maybe I just didn’t let myself feel it because it didn’t fit into the person I was trying to be.”
“What is it?”
“Maybe I’ll tell you someday.”
I stepped away from him and took one last look. His brow was pinched, and with the last of the sunlight shining on the deck, his eyes turned golden like honey. The shimmer I saw there almost made me stay, but I wanted him to process what I’d told him.
Everything I’d just said made me raw, and my chest felt tight as I walked off of the deck. I just hoped it would be worth it.
*****
The third game in Boston didn’t go as well. It was close, but the Braves’ batters weren’t on it today. That put the Red Sox at three wins, which was an uncomfortable place to be. They’d have either one or two more games, and I knew they had to be stressed and tired by this point.
We all had dinner together, and it was clear that Travis was off. He hadn’t pitched today, so he couldn’t blame himself, but I knew that didn’t help.
Tomorrow, we’d be going back to Georgia. That was a relief. Even though it wasn’t my home, it was more familiar. We also wouldn’t be sleeping in the same hallway. I wouldn’t walk out of my room and look toward his door every day. He’d be miles away at his house, and I’d only have to see him briefly at games.
Since he got into the elevator with the rest of the guys, I hung back long enough for it to reach our floor, then I started up the stairs. I didn’t want to interact with anyone. Dinner had been fun, but I was becoming more drained by the day. If I didn’t care so much about spending time with my friends and enjoying the games, I would go home instead of returning to Atlanta.
I pushed through the door into the hallway, then froze. Why was he in front of my room? His hands were in his pockets and he was bouncing up and down, buzzing with a sort of energy that seemed to never go away.
I considered backing up into the stairwell before he could notice me, but not so deep down, I’d wanted him to seek me out after my declaration on the boat yesterday. I didn’t want to get my hopes up, though. He might be here for something unrelated.
Taking a deep breath, I started forward. When he heard me, he turned around.
“Oh,” he said. “I thought you were in your room.”
“I’m not.”
“I see that.”
“Is there something you need? Commission rates or a good pot pie recipe?”
“You’re dangerous to cook with, so I think I’m good.”
“Cool. So, it’s about a commission, then.”
His lips thinned. I moved around him and pulled my keycard from my pocket, then turned to face him.
