Page 13 of Role Model

“The Glebe. Nice little apartment. Nothing fancy.”

Troy had no idea what the fuck the Glebe was. “Cool.”

Harris seemed to take Troy’s one-word response as an invitation to keep talking. “I’ve only lived there for a year and it’s still weird living alone. I grew up in a full house. Forty acres of land and we still had to share a bathroom.”

That sounded awful. “Big family?”

“Two older sisters, Mom, Dad, Grandma before she died, three dogs, a cat, and a ghost.”

Troy decided to ignore that last thing. “Jesus. That’s crowded.” God dammit. No, he couldn’t ignore that last thing. “Ghost?”

“Yep. Grandma used to tell me it’s my great-great-uncle Elroy. He was a quiet guy, and a mostly quiet ghost. Knocks stuff over sometimes.”

That struck Troy as being extremely impossible. For lots of reasons. “You must be glad to be out of there.”

“Oh no, I loved it. The family, I mean. Uncle Elroy I could do without sometimes, but I suppose he’s family too. I still love going home. I help out a lot when I’m not working here. Oh jeez, I didn’t even tell you. My family owns an apple orchard. Fourth generation.” He pointed proudly to a button on his jacket that said Drover Family U-Pick. “So, you know, let me know if you need any apples.”

Harris’s cheeks looked a little like apples, rosy and plump above the line of his trim beard. His near-constant smile molded them into round little balls that Troy had a fleeting, confusing desire to bite. He wouldn’t be surprised if Harris tasted like apples, sweet and wholesome. “I’ll let you know.”

Harris kept smiling at him, as if there was nothing that would make him happier than being asked to gift Troy with apples. He was, Troy considered, almost the complete opposite of Adrian. Where Adrian had been tall, with golden skin, dark hair and eyes, and a physique that was more muscular and defined than even Troy’s pro-athlete body, Harris was compact, pale, and soft. Adrian smiled easily, but at least some of it was performance. He could put on a friendly face no matter his actual mood, if he needed to. Harris’s good humor seemed completely natural and genuine.

Adrian was also a bit of a snob, and would never wear a pom-pom toque, or a denim jacket covered in pins. Or a Wonder Woman T-shirt, which Harris was definitely wearing right now. In fact, Adrian probably would have had something bitchy to say about Harris’s entire vibe, which Troy hated to think about.

Troy wondered if Harris had a boyfriend. He seemed like a good guy. He was probably very affectionate. The kind of boyfriend who bought thoughtful gifts. Or who made thoughtful gifts.

“Hypothetically,” Troy said, “if I did the Q and A video, how long would it take?”

“Not long. Maybe fifteen minutes? It gets edited down to about ninety seconds.”

“Is it something you could do...now?”

Harris beamed. “I could totally do it now.”

“Just easy questions, right? Crunchy or smooth peanut butter? That kind of thing?”

Harris’s eyes went wide in mock horror. “No way. You don’t want the crunchy peanut butter fandom coming for you online. Best to avoid controversial subjects like that one.”

“Maybe I like crunchy.”

“The smooth fans are even worse.”

Troy didn’t laugh, but he felt lighter than he had in days. “Let’s do it.”

“Have a seat. I just need to finish setting this stuff up.”

Harris watched as Troy took one step toward the chair, then stopped. He frowned at the floor and chewed his lip, as if trying to make a decision.

“Something wrong?” Harris asked.

Troy fixed his intense, cobalt gaze on Harris. “No.” He resumed moving to the chair, then stopped again. “I’m not a homophobe.”

For a rare second, Harris was speechless. Then he said, “Good to hear.”

“You’re, um, gay? Right?”

Harris wanted to make a joke about the pin he was wearing that said Big Gay Libra being a subtle clue, but he held his tongue. “I am.”

“That’s cool. I know when we met, I probably looked like I was judging you for your...” Troy gestured to his own chest. “Pins. And stuff.”

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