Out on the Ice (Out in College 5)

I held up my hand like a stop sign. “TMI. This will have to do.”

“Okay. What’s this about?” he asked, gesturing at my costume.

“Me and you and…”

“What does Batman have to do with us?”

“Nothing. But you like Batman.”

“I do,” he replied cautiously.

“He’s your favorite. You told me he was your favorite months ago.”

“Okay. Well, that’s true, but what does that—”

“I want to be your favorite,” I said quickly. “Me. Get it?”

“What are you saying?”

“I came out.”

Sky gaped at me. “You did?”

“Yeah. Just happened, so it’s a little surreal. But I told Harry and my mom and Elliot. And my team. I don’t want to hide anymore. I can’t keep all these balls in the air. I don’t want to lie to protect myself. I’d rather fight and be honest. I didn’t mention you to my guys. You don’t have to come out if you don’t want to, but…I want you to know that I love you.”

Sky threw his arms around my neck and crashed his mouth over mine. He pushed my mask over my head and threaded his fingers through my hair.

“I love you too.” Sky brushed his nose against mine and chuckled. “Why Batman?”

“Because there’s a serious lack of Green Lantern costumes in the world,” I huffed. I let the sound of Sky’s laughter roll over me in sweet waves before I continued. “Batman seemed logical…sort of. I guess I wanted you to know that I’ve been listening to you for months now. And I see you. I know your lip curls on the right side when you get angry. And when you’re happy, your eyes crinkle and you become a grown-up version of the kid who wants to catch up on everything he’s missed. I want to make sure you don’t miss anything else. You’re first for me. Everything else is second. Got it?”

“Got it.” He bit my lip and grinned. “I love you, but I’m not Robin.”

“Fine. You can be Green Lantern.”

Sky snickered. “No, thanks.”

I draped my arm over his shoulder and kissed his temple, then grumbled about my sweaty balls and the danger of my junk being confined in polyester for too long. Sky wrapped his arms around my waist and laughed.

And just like that, I had my sign. The one I’d been waiting for since I was fifteen. I closed my eyes for a brief moment, tilted my chin toward the heavens, and smiled.

Maybe the heavens approved, maybe they didn’t. I wasn’t overly concerned either way. Somehow I knew I was on the right path with the right man. I wasn’t afraid. I was free. I’d learned the hard way to trust my instincts and come out on the ice.

Epilogue

“I have so much of you in my heart.”—John Keats

Couples shouldn’t grocery shop together. Only one person from each household needed to go to the market at any given time. It should be a rule, right? I steered my cart through the paper goods section at Costco and stopped in front of the jumbo container of plastic utensils. I sincerely doubted we’d need three hundred forks for our barbeque, but I dropped them on top of the huge box of oatmeal anyway.

“Those are bad for the environment, babe. We’ll get the real thing,” Sky said, scratched my lower back, then moved down the aisle, pausing to pick up a package of napkins.

“Wait a sec. How many people are coming over?”

“Twenty-five…ish,” he replied with a smile.

“Are you proposing that we buy twenty-five real forks for a bunch of knucklehead baseball dudes and a few hockey players?”

“I am.” Sky chuckled. “Why do you look so scandalized? They aren’t too pricey, and we’re both making good money. We can afford to own more than four forks.”

“But why would we? And what the hell are we gonna do with an extra twenty we’ll never use? Should we just tell our friends to take a fork home like a fuckin’ party favor or something?”

Sky threw his head back and laughed. “This is a family zone, Fischer. Watch your language. And no. We’re not giving forks away. We’ll have them for a rainy day. This is our first official get-together. There will be others. Oh, we need cheese for the burgers and I’m not sure I have all the ingredients for tofu patties and—”

“Tofu what? Stop everything.” I held my hand up like a traffic cop and shook my head. “This has to be an alternate reality moment. You did not just suggest we serve tofu to a bunch of athletes. They’ll hurt us.”

“You’re afraid to serve tofu?”

“Hell yes, I am! And don’t try to tell me it tastes like the real thing. It does not.”

“When was the last time you had tofu?” he asked, clearly amused.

“I was sixteen and I’m still scarred,” I snarked, slinging my arm over his shoulder and nuzzling his neck. “This is why you should have let me do the shopping. I could have been outta here ten minutes ago with everything we needed.”