Page 107 of Role Model

“Posting something.”

Harris propped himself on one elbow, craning his neck to see the screen. Troy pulled it away.

“Be patient,” Troy scolded.

Harris enjoyed the line that appeared between Troy’s black eyebrows as he concentrated on typing. A few seconds later, he handed Harris his phone.

Harris gasped theatrically. Troy had posted a photo he’d taken of Fabian Salah onstage, tagged the location, and written An incredible night.

“I figure there probably weren’t any homophobes at that show,” Troy said. “So if anyone saw us, they’d be, y’know. Cool about it.”

Harris kissed him, touched by this small but significant act of bravery, then said, “At worst they’d be jealous. Of you, I mean. Obviously.”

Troy laughed and wrapped an arm around him, pulling him close so Harris’s head was resting on his chest. “I want to take you somewhere. Another date.”

Harris beamed. “I’d like that.”

Troy kissed the top of his head. “When?”

“I’m working this weekend. All-Star game and all that. But it’s quiet at work for the rest of the week because of the break.”

“Okay. I’ll think about it over the weekend. It’ll be epic. Best date ever.” Troy kissed him quickly and said, “I should, um, deal with the condom and stuff. But you’ll stay tonight, right?”

Harris rolled to his back and stretched his arms out. “Buddy, I might never move again.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Troy: Can our date start Tuesday morning and end Wednesday afternoon?

The text had been left unanswered for twenty minutes, and Troy was milliseconds away from calling Harris when he finally saw the three dots.

Harris: Sounds like a hell of a date.

Troy smiled and wrote, It’s going to be amazing. And it’s a surprise, so don’t ask.

Harris: Do I need to pack anything?

Troy: Is that a yes?

Harris: I’m curious now! Of course it’s a yes!

Alone in his apartment, Troy pumped his fist triumphantly. Since Harris had left on Saturday morning, Troy had been frantically trying to think of the perfect date to take him on. He wanted it to not only be something that Harris would enjoy, but something that would give him a real break from work. Something that would allow Troy to take care of him.

They had never discussed the fact that Troy was a millionaire, but Troy got the impression that Harris wasn’t interested in fancy restaurants or lavish gifts. Troy still wanted to spoil him a little, though.

Then he’d gotten an idea. It took some internet searching, but Troy found the perfect place: a spa retreat in Quebec, less than two hours away, that had private chalets. He knew it was a long shot when he’d called, because it was extremely short notice, but he’d gotten lucky: there had been a last-minute cancellation. The woman he’d spoken to had apologetically told him that he would have to book the exact same package that had been canceled, and Troy had laughed when she’d told him what it was.

The Lovebird Getaway.

She hadn’t sounded the least bit surprised or offended when Troy had given her Harris’s name as the second guest. It was the first time Troy had ever indicated his sexuality to a stranger, and, once the butterflies in his stomach had calmed down, he’d felt a wave of relief surge through him. He’d booked a romantic getaway for himself and his boyfriend, and it was fine. He’d used his real name and everything.

Troy: Pack a bathing suit and comfy clothes.

Harris: How am I supposed to tweet about the All-Star Game now?

Troy had, wonderfully, forgotten about the All-Star game. He decided to leave Harris alone for now, and wrote: I’ll pick you up at 10am on Tuesday.

Harris replied with a string of excited-face emojis.

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