Role Model

“I love you,” Troy said.

It was terrible timing; he had red eyes, a snotty nose, a hoarse voice, and they were both at work, but he couldn’t help it. He loved Harris, and he needed him to know.

Harris’s eyes were suddenly a little wet too. “Troy...” he whispered.

Troy started laughing, his body shaking with as much force as when he’d been crying. “I’m sorry,” he squeaked out.

But then Harris’s arms were around him, fierce and tight. Harris kissed his temple. “I love you, too. God, Troy. Of course I do.”

“Maybe a bit. I don’t know. I shouldn’t feel bad for him. It’s just weird, I guess. We were tight for a long time.”

“Sometimes it’s hard to stop caring about someone, no matter how much you know you should.” The way Wiebe said it made Troy think he was probably speaking from experience, but he didn’t ask.

“I was only able to book it on short notice because someone canceled, so I had to book the same package they had.”

“Unless it was the You Have to go Home Immediately package, I don’t care.”

“It’s the Lovebird Getaway. So it might be a bit...much.”

Harris’s eyes went even wider. “Is this our honeymoon?”

Troy elbowed him. “Calm down.”

“You found me,” Harris said.

“I said I would.”

Then he placed a hand on Harris’s cheek, tilted his head, and kissed him. Full on the mouth. With people all around them.

Troy looked at him seriously. “I honestly don’t know how I would have dealt with anything this season without you.”

Oh.

Harris managed a shaky smile. “Happy to help.”

“I know. It’s one of the things I love about you.” His eyes went wide. “I mean—thanks.”

He jogged away before Harris could reply.

“Oh man,” Harris muttered to his patched-up heart. “I think this guy might destroy us.”

For a moment, neither man said anything. Then Harris handed Troy one of the bowls. “Oatmeal’s getting cold. Let’s eat.”

Troy wanted to throw the oatmeal into the sink and kiss Harris against the fridge. He wanted to take him out for breakfast, and hold his hand while they waited for their food. He wanted to make coffee for him every morning.

Instead, he silently took his bowl to the table, and awkwardly sat across from his new friend.

Troy woke up late the next morning feeling well rested and perfectly comfortable.

Almost.

“What the fuck am I lying on?” He reached under his back and pulled out what appeared to be an extremely battered and worn-out stuffed...giraffe?

“Oh,” Harris said, reaching for it. “That’s Mr. Neck-Neck.”

“Troy!” Harris called out happily as soon as he spotted him. “Amazing goal tonight. Holy shit.”

“Thanks.” Troy’s gaze was fixed on the smoke show Harris was practically holding hands with. How many amazing goals did you score tonight, buddy?

And he was talking to a very tall and attractive dark-haired man. Smiling at him. Laughing. And the other man was smiling and laughing too.

Troy’s jaw clenched. He had no claim on Harris, obviously, but seeing him with another man made Troy realize that he’d been hoping to go home with Harris himself tonight.

“I know this trip was a shit show, but I had fun with you.”

Something bubbled up inside of Troy. Happiness, he supposed. “Me too.”