Page 75 of The Road to Home Base
“What’s it say?” he asked.
I selected the article and read the lede. “‘Riders’ spokeswoman continues to sidestep questions regarding Moretti’s alleged sexuality and the role it had to play in the fight during the Riders v. Brawlers game on September eighteenth.’ Okay, that’s not bad. Nobody reads past the first few lines.”
Rome showed me his phone. He was on Instagram and thumbed through the incalculable number of DMs he received. I jokingly said, “Don’t you guys mostly get nudes from horny fans, anyway?”
He snickered and bumped his shoulder against mine. “Stop cheering me up. I want to brood.”
I knocked our knees together. “Impossible. You’re the least brooding person I’ve ever met.” I slapped my laptop lid closed. “Diving into all the rumors is gonna do nothing. You’ll fly out to Annapolis tomorrow, play or not play, and probably avoid answering reporters until the season is over.”
“Feels like hiding,” he said, then glowered. “I don’t like hiding.”
“You’re not hiding,” I assured him. Then, curiosity hit me. “But if youdofeel like you’re hiding, then why don’t you stop?”
He spun his head to look at me, chin still resting in his palm. “What do you mean?”
I widened my eyes imploringly and looked at his phone. “Your life, Rome. Not Emma’s. Not your agent’s. Yours.”
Rome moved his hand away from his chin, grabbed my knee, squeezed, and smiled. “You’re sweet. Listen to you.”
I made a sound at the back of my throat. “Don’t patronize me,” I said teasingly. “Just trying to help.”
He crashed back into the couch, tossed his phone aside, and tucked his hands behind his head. I had a sudden urge to drop my head in his lap but stopped myself. “I’ll call Emma on the ride home,” Rome said. “We can figure it out from there. I think…” Rome closed his eyes, lips pursed. Then, “It’s already out there. ‘Rumors,’ sure, but everyone has probably figured it out. So in a way, the truth is out there. And that’s kind of a relief, to be honest. All I have to do is confirm, and then everyone can move on.” His eyes opened and he focused on something in the distance. “Everyone can turn their attention on the Brawlers now and go afterthemfor instigating this whole thing. Letthemtake the heat.”
A buzzer sounded from a nearby room. Rome started to stand but I pushed him back down. “I’ll grab it. You can help fold?”
After getting the hamper, I upended the clean clothes on the dining room table and called Rome. He lumbered over and together we sifted through our assorted clean clothes, folding indiscriminately.
I felt silly, but I had a sudden recognition that this was the first time we did something like this. Rome had cooked us meals aplenty and I was no stranger to keeping his house clean to do my part, but this felt so…domestic. And we weren’t even in the guesthouse he rented from Hiroshi.
We’re in hisactualhome, I thought as I paired two of his socks together and rolled them up. I grabbed one of his undershirts and started to fold, but slowed down as I consideredour situation more.
I preferred, if possible, to do laundry before returning home. Grabbing all my dirty clothes earlier, I offered to Rome if he wanted me to do his and he took me up on the offer. Now, here we stood, casually grabbing one another’s articles of clothing, folding, and placing into a pile. As if we had been doing this for years. As if we weremeantto do this for years. Together, in a home.
“You all right?” Rome asked.
I realized I had been frozen with his white t-shirt. I finished folding and placed it on a pile of his other shirts. I patted the top of the pile and looked at him. “I really like it here.”
He had grabbed a pair of my boxers, but stopped. “Yeah…?”
I laughed despite myself, then gestured to the table strewn with our clothes. “I really likethis. Spending time with you. Doing stupid domestic stuff.”
“Yeah?”
I bit my lower lip and fished for some confidence swimming somewhere in my belly. “How long do you think you’ll stay in Hiroshi’s guesthouse?”
His brows went up. A smile blossomed on his face like a golden sunrise. “There’s no contract. I can stay or leave whenever.”
I picked up another article to give my hands something to do. Why had a sudden shyness taken hold? Asking to live together felt like a marathon where telling Rome I loved him was a walk in the park.
Yourunmarathons, moron, I told myself.
I looked him right in the eye. “My lease ends November first. I need to let my landlord know if I’m extending it next week.”
“Do you… do you want to move into the guesthouse with me?”
I nodded. “Is that okay with Hiroshi?”
Rome wiped the air with his hand. “He won’t care. Wait, what about offseason?” His elation dimmed, then shifted to a glower. “And spring training? The guesthouse is good for regular and postseason, but…”
