Page 114 of Diamond Ring
“How’s the clubhouse taking it?” Because Alex only caught fragments of the conversation as he was stripping out of his game jersey and grabbing things from his stall.
“Couple guys are grumbling aboutdistractions. Everyone else is drunk.” Jake picks the bottle back up and takes a long, restorative sip. “I’m sure people on Twitter will have something to say.”
“They got a picture of us in the dugout.”
“It’s not like we were trying to hide.”
Alex reaches for the bottle, its neck warm from Jake’s hand, and drinks. “Is this the low-alcohol stuff? Tastes like juice.”
“That’s because it is juice.” Jake laughs, then chews his lip. “How bad’s the picture?”
“It’s a good picture.”
“Can you tell it’s us?”
“More or less.” Alex’s back stiffens; his gut sours, a churn that has nothing to do with the overly sweet champagne. “If it does get out, we can blame it on the stress of victory or whatever.”
He expects Jake’s worry, or maybe that plastered-on grin that used to make Alex angry at him and now just makes him angry with the rest of the world for demanding it. Not the loose shrug of Jake’s shoulders. He takes another long drink of champagne, then smiles a real, easy smile that makes Alex want to kiss him right here in this dank little hallway, even if the handler is going to fetch them soon. So, he does.
Jake tastes like low-alcohol champagne, like sweetness and a rush. He groans affirmatively against Alex’s lips, then pulls back. “I don’t care if it gets out,” Jake says. “Fuck, let’s put it out ourselves. At this point, people should know we’re a package deal.”
Alex hasn’t had any champagne, save that sip and the residual from Jake’s mouth. He feels a little drunk, flushed, bubbling with happiness. “You sure?”
“About you?” Jake says. “Yes. Always.”
“Including next year?”
Jake smiles, dazzling. “And the year after.”
“And everything else?” A question that’s bigger than the hallway, whose answer has to last long after the adrenaline of their win recedes.
“All of it,” Jake says breathlessly. “The house, kids, whatever you want.”
“What if I want to come to Japan with you?”
Jake’s smile intensifies. “Then that too.”
The jewelry box that Alex is carrying goes weighty in his pocket. He withdraws it and holds it out to Jake. “I got you this.”
Jake takes the box but doesn’t open it, thumb stroking the velvet. “What if we lost?” he asks.
“We weren’t going to. We can’t, together.” Alex nods to the box. “Go ahead.”
Jake opens the box slowly, hinges clicking, then withdraws the necklace Alex picked out—a loop of black diamonds that shimmers in the dim lighting.
“Avi says to say ‘hi’ by the way,” Alex says.
“You got this from him?” Jake’s holding the necklace like he’s not sure what to do with it, though he smiles and ducks, letting Alex drape it across him.
Alex secures the clasp, runs a finger under it to free any loose hairs and gets rewarded with Jake’s shiver, with his pleased expression when he turns around.
“How’s it look?” Jake asks teasingly, and Alex saves himself from saying some pat baseball cliché likeindescribableby pulling Jake into a kiss.
When they separate, they get far enough to rest their foreheads together, the world condensed to the two of them, fading beyond Alex’s field of view. “You know,” Alex says, “if we release that picture, it’ll be a complete fiasco.”
“It probably will.” Jake kisses him again. “Let’s do it anyway.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
