Page 60 of Diamond Ring
“A few years? Wow, that sounds serious.”
“Yeah, we were together when I played in Seattle. Broke up about a year ago.”
Something about that makes Jake’s eyebrows draw together slightly. “Did guys on the team know?”
A semi-fraught question: how much anyone knew versus how much they could extrapolate as to why Alex, whose salary was a few million a year, would have a roommate. Who sometimes came to various team functions. Who once slipped and called Alexbabyin front of their first baseman who—fortunately or unfortunately—also had the habit of calling their teammates that.
“Some of them might have figured it out,” Alex says. “No one asked me outright.” Which stung, though Alex cultivated a sheltering cloud of unapproachability so was partially to blame. “It got harder the longer we were together. Most guys were married. I knew we couldn’t without it being an issue.”
And Alex doesn’t much care what people think, but he doesn’t want the headline of his career to beCatcher Who Flubbed a World Championship Also Gay, as if the two were somehow related.“There was other stuff too—that kind of breakup, it’s never about just one thing.”
Which is a lot to pour out to someone who Alex didn’t break up with but didn’tnotbreak up with either. Especially someone who he had—definitely past tense—feelings for.
Jake’s mouth twists. “I guess I wouldn’t know.”
“Never got married?”
“Nope. Don’t think it’s not for lack of effort by my parents.”
“I figured it’d be easier if you date women.”
A shrug, this one more pronounced. “In my experience, you don’t get to choose who you fall for.” Jake rolls his glass between his hands. “Besides, being a career minor leaguer isn’t exactly great husband material.”
He gets a look that makes Alex want to extend his hand across the table, to run his fingers over Jake’s the way Jake did his a minute before. To say something true even if Jake doesn’t want to hear it.Anyone would be lucky to have you. And its corollary:I was.
Instead he recedes to baseball conversation. “Where’s the worst place you pitched?”
Jake tilts his head, like he misheard him. “Worst? Oh god, there’re so many. Probably this terrible stadium in Iowa or Nebraska—I can’t even remember. Indy ball has some wild times. The Atlantic League was okay, except I played for the Maryland Rockfish for a while and my parents showed up to all my games like it was Little League.” With that, a grin, a shrug. “Probably not how they pictured my career going.” He says it like he’s daring Alex to either agree or disagree with him. That either will be taken as insult.
Alex is saved from having to answer by their food arriving. He’s about to dig into his tacos when Jake slides out of the booth. “Gonna go wash up.” Because Jake, even ten years wearier, hasmanners.
When he’s gone, Alex has no reason not to check his phone to see where Ben is, even if he hasn’t thought much about him for the past hour. He opens their chat. Apparently, he has proximity alerts on because one pings almost immediately.Ben.
A message pops up a second later.
Ben: I’m at a booth. LMK if you can’t make it.
Also I ran into a friend if that’s a problem.
The bar is busy, but the booths ringing the room are mostly deserted, none occupied by a tall guy who could conceivably be Ben. Except for Jake, who’s in the bathroom. Jake, who ran into afriend. Which, fuck.Fuck.
Alex gets a strange roiling feeling—something between wanting to laugh and to press his forehead to the slightly greasy surface of the table. Because that would mean they’d been talking to each other for days. That would mean, in the endless ephemeral scroll of apps, they still found each other.
(That would meanthat pictureis of Jake.)
He should have known. The signs were there: Ben’s hesitation to show his face. His sense of humor. His fondness for video games and commiseration. Alex thought there was no way he wouldn’t notice a 6'5" guy walking into a bar—except he’d been sitting with one. On a date they both didn’t know they were on.
He scrolls back through their chat to words he can’t help but hear in Jake’s voice.If we ever fuck put your fingers in my mouth.
His face heats. Because Jake ten years ago was exactly as Alex imagined him: sweet, clumsy, a mouth full of encouragements breathed into Alex’s ear. Different from the Jake who sent him that.
Mike: You should come back. Your burger’s getting cold
No response. Maybe Jake crawled out the window. Maybe they’ll see each other at the ballpark and avoid one another’s gaze. Maybe this will be a story, an anecdote they can tell each other and no one else. Aha-hafunny thing except Alex doesn’t feel like laughing so much as the drop of disappointment that Ben—who might want to date him—isn’t coming and Jake—who can only just stand him—will at some point emerge and have to be dealt with.
Jake comes back a few minutes later, phone gripped in his hand like he doesn’t quite believe what’s happening. He sits, easing into the booth as if noise will break this strange tense silence. He puts both hands on the table, adjusting the place mat until it’s squared up with the napkin holder.
“So,” Jake says, finally. His head is bent, eyes averted.
