Ace shuddered. “Point taken.”
“Not a sports fan, then?” Paul asked, concerned.
“I’ve played,” Ace said. “More into track and field, though. I did baseball and soccer for a while when I was a kid. I’ll be able to follow along with the big boys, don’t worry.”
“So that’s a yes?” Paul’s face was filled with hope.
Ace sighed and took a deep breath. “That’s a yes.”
Paul’s face filled with a big, stupid grin. He impulsively reached for Ace’s hand across the table and squeezed until his brain caught up with what he was doing. He pulled back sharply, and Ace bit out a sigh.
“One of these days, maybe you could actually bring yourself to touch a man in public,” Ace said. “In a way that doesn’t involve a manly punch.”
Paul looked down. “I really hope so,” he said softly.
They finished their drinks, and Paul threw down some bills to cover their tab and called out a farewell to John. As they both reached the door to leave, Paul hesitated for just a moment then reached out to hold the door open for Ace.
“See?” he said as he gestured for Ace to precede him. “Baby steps.”
Chapter 10
On Thursday, Paul drove to Ace’s house with a stomach threatening to rebel. He’d never been so nervous before a date.
Then again, when was the last time he’d gone on a proper date? High school? Maybe that one time freshman year in college? Always with a girl, and even then, he knew there wasn’t really anything to be nervous about. And with the men in his life the flings, the dark corner guys it was never a date.
It’s a baseball game, you moron. Your team, your game. Your turf. This should be a breeze.
Right. A breeze. A breeze to sit next to Ace in a crowd of people and not touch him the way he longed to. A breeze to not give in to his fear and act like an asshole straight guy around this man he wanted to impress.
Breezy.
He pulled up to Ace’s crayon explosion of a house and sat in the car for a moment to gather his nerve.
“Baby steps,” he muttered to himself.
He rang Ace’s doorbell, but it wasn’t Ace who answered it.
The redhead who appeared in the door looked familiar, but Paul couldn’t quite place him.
This new guy fixed Paul with a shrewd, evaluating look. He didn’t look especially happy to see him.
“You must be Paul,” the redhead said.
“Yeah,” Paul said, confused. “Who are you?”
“The watch dog. I’ll go fetch your date.” He left Paul standing on the front porch.
Watch dog? What the hell?
Ace arrived quickly after that, and Paul’s confused frustration melted instantly. He gave Ace an appreciative, head-to-toe look and smiled.
“Hey,” Ace grinned. “You’ve met Erik?”
“Sort of,” Paul grunted.
“Well, Paul, Erik. Erik, Paul,” Ace said quickly. “Thanks for your help, Erik. I’ll call you later.”
“Can’t wait,” Erik trilled.
Paul walked Ace to his car and he managed to wait until they had both slid into their seats before speaking. “So, who is Erik?” he asked tightly.
“My best friend,” Ace said. “I mentioned him, I know I did.” Paul relaxed some into his seat. “I needed reinforcements and an objective second opinion,” Ace continued.
“On me? I thought the girl talk came after the date.”
Ace slugged his arm and they both grinned.
“He looked familiar,” Paul said.
“You probably caught a fleeting glimpse of him last week as you, um, left,” Ace said.
“Ah.” Paul was hit with a pang of guilt. “That explains the way he was looking at me.”
“I imagine he’s also a little jealous. He broke up with his boyfriend last year and it’s been just the two of us since then.”
The two of them? “So, you’re I mean, you were-”
“Friends,” Ace finished. “Just friends. Good friends.”
“And you never ” Paul gulped and started over. “I mean, you’re both gay, both single. Why did you never get together?”
Ace shrugged. “Same reason a straight man can be friends with a woman without dating her. Sometimes you just need a friend more.” He cut a look at Paul. “Don’t you have any friends? Just friends who aren’t relatives?”
Paul squirmed uncomfortably in his seat.
Silence reigned for a few empty minutes, and Paul’s inexperience at talking to men became glaringly obvious to him. He was perfectly able to chat up a guy to lay down some innuendo, but apart from small talk, he was kind of hopeless.
Baby steps, McDonnell.
“So, tell me the story of your life,” he said finally.
Ace blinked and turned to look at him. “Story of my life,” he repeated flatly.
“We’ve got a forty-five minute drive ahead of us,” Paul said. “Isn’t this what people do on dates?”
“I don’t know that my life has a story yet,” Ace said.
“Well, give me the cast of characters, anyway. Maybe we can build a story out of that.”
The slow smile Ace gave him warmed him through to his core. Paul wished he could turn to face him fully so he could watch this story in those deep blue eyes, but he had to do the grown-up thing and drive.
“Well, once upon a time,” Ace began, his voice thick with that smile, “there was a little curly haired boy named Acelin who had a sweet big sister named Sonya. They lived in a magical village called Boulder in a land called Colorado, where hippies roamed free and herds of Subarus crowded the lanes.”
Paul barked out a laugh. “That’s a great beginning. I already like this story.”
“I don’t know if I can keep this up as a fairy tale,” Ace laughed.
“No ogres or villains in your story?”
Ace’s smile faded a little. “Oh, everyone has an ogre or two in their past,” he said lightly.
Paul didn’t want anything to scare away that happy look that Ace’s face had a moment ago. “Skip the ogres, then. This is still chapter one. Ogres are more of a chapter four or five thing.”
“I’ll do an abridged version, then,” Ace said. “Mom and Dad still live in Colorado. They’re both technically retired, but Dad never thought to develop any hobbies, so after The New York Times crossword puzzle is solved, he’s got nothing to do all day. So he volunteers part time at a food pantry.”
“That’s cool,” Paul said.
“Gives him something to bitch about,” Ace said. “He’s happiest when he’s kvetching.”
“I know the type,” Paul grinned.
“Mom is a full-time grandma to Sonya’s kids. She’s busier now than she ever was when she worked in an office.”
“Tell me about her kids.”
“A girl and a boy. Jordan, who is eight and Walt, who is five.”
“Jordan and Walt? Is Sonya a basketball fan or something?”
“Her husband is. Lucas. He’s a good guy. They’re all great, actually, Sonya’s family. I miss them.”
“Where are they?”
“Still in the magical village of Boulder. Sonya wanted me to move there when I told her I was leaving Atlanta.”
Paul’s gut clenched a little at the thought of never having met Ace. “Why didn’t you?”
“Too close to the parents.” Ace shook his head and looked out the window. “I love them and all, but proximity is not always that kind to us.”
I hear that. “When did you leave home then?”