Like Real People Do (Breakaway #1)

by E.L. Massey

“HEY COOPS, are you—oh my god, a dog.”

“I won’t do it again,” Price says, fishing his keys out of his pocket. “Swear to god. And I’ll make a donation to—I dunno—something for disabled kids. As an apology. And buy you dessert after lunch.” “Jesus, Price,” Eli says. “You weren’t going to include dessert with lunch before? You have a 1.5 million-dollar annual salary. What kind of cheap date bullshit is that?”

Eli allows Price to hold the door for him, laughing a little at the still-baffled security guard as he unclips Hawk’s leash and tells her to get into the back seat. Moments later, Eli finds himself sitting in the passenger seat of Alex Price’s car, scrolling through an album of cat pictures on Alex Price’s phone while Alex Price drives them to lunch. What even.

“Are you ready?” and the sound system cuts on with a crackle. “Now?” “Well, we don’t have all night. You need to do your makeup or something first?” “I hate you,” Eli calls, moving to center ice. “Don’t play. You memorized my routine. You love me.” “Loved. Past tense. Crush is officially terminated.” “This is devastating news.” “I thought flirting wasn’t allowed,” Alex interrupts. “All right, all right,” Eli says, wiggling a little in place before going still. “I’m ready.”

The music swells to life again, Jeff begins the opening choreography at center ice, and Alex leans into his space, head turned to speak directly into Eli’s ear. “Seriously though. I know nothing about that shit, but your skating is beautiful, man.” The words are earnest, Alex’s breath warm against the sweat beginning to dry cold on Eli’s neck. He shivers. “Thanks,” he says. “I haven’t practiced it in a while; it was honestly a fluke I didn’t fall more.” “Beautiful,” Alex repeats firmly and then throws one arm over Eli’s shoulder, chafing his palm against the goosebumps on the curve of his bicep. Eli leans into him, just a little, eyes on Jeff as he settles into the first spin, still elegant despite his hockey bulk, and tries desperately to remember every second of the next four minutes.

Jeff—and he is Jeff, now, in Eli’s head, just like Alex is no longer “Price”—texts him a picture of Alex asleep on a plane the following morning. It’s not flattering at all, but Eli finds it hopelessly endearing anyway. You’re a bad influence, Jeff captions it. He always plays cards on morning flights, and now his routine will be off. If we lose tomorrow, it’s your fault. It’s a preseason game, Eli answers. You’ll survive. And whose idea was it to go skating last night anyway??

Alex has a nice smile. And face in general. And everything really.

Eli realizes Alex’s rose-gold aviators match his massive white-marble-faced watch and smiles despite himself. Eli tries to determine when he started finding Alex’s horrible bro fashion endearing. That’s probably not a good sign.

“No, no. I will pick your outfit. You will pick mine. The more ridiculous the better. And then we will go out to eat at a very nice restaurant and pretend everything is completely normal and we are wearing normal outfits that we intentionally chose to leave the house in.” “Oh my god,” Eli says, suddenly understanding. “There are going to be so many pictures.” “So many,” Alex agrees somberly. “What will TMZ say?” “I’m looking forward to finding out.”

Because, well, he wants Eli to be comfortable. He might intentionally pick a shirt that’s a little big on him because he knows it will look even bigger on Eli, and the idea of that is…compelling.

Hawk precedes Eli and makes herself at home on the rug under the window. Eli moves into the living room, and Alex—Alex did not adequately prepare himself for this. For Eli with damp ringlet hair and a flush to his dark skin from the heat of Alex’s ridiculous shower. He looks so soft and unassuming that it feels like a personal attack.

Within fifteen minutes, Alex is dead to the world, breathing slowly, the pained wrinkle between his eyebrows smoothed away, and Eli is sleepy enough to consider staying. Alex is warm and solid beside him, and Alex wouldn’t mind, he doesn’t think; he might even like it, if Eli stayed. He could stay. If he wanted. And that’s the problem. Eli carefully rolls off the bed and retreats to the guest room. He doesn’t stay because he wants to just a little too badly.

He pauses on the second-to-last one, like Jeff knew he would. Like Jeff had himself. In it, Eli is holding Alex’s chin in one hand. The other hand had just wiped the smear of sauce off Alex’s cheek, and Eli is in the process of licking his thumb clean, still smiling slightly, attention wholly on Alex. And Alex. Alex is looking at Eli as if he is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. The expression of naked admiration on his face is—well, it certainly isn’t something Jeff would post on Instagram. Alex hands the phone back. “I didn’t know I looked at him like that.”

Twenty minutes later, Alex has ordered a pair of Louboutins to be delivered to Eli’s dorm by express mail later that day. And he’s booked Eli a flight to visit Cody over Thanksgiving break because he knows Eli can’t afford to go home, and Cody can’t go back either because he has a game the day before Thanksgiving. Eli really misses Cody, so seeing him would make Eli happy. Apparently, Alex doesn’t know how to handle emotions, and he’s a dumpster fire of a human being.

Eli mutters something in Spanish, and Alex is still confused but is now also a little turned on. He knew angry Russian did it for him, but it seems he needs to add judgmental Spanish to his list of kinks as well.

“Alex,” Jessica says patiently. “This is not the kind of gift a heterosexual guy gives to his male friend. Would you ever buy Jeff shoes like this?” “Yes? If he asked for a pair. Look. I just wanted to do something nice for Eli because he took care of me the first couple days when I was injured. And he cooks for me all the time. And just—I knew they’d make him happy.” “Oh my god,” Jessica says faintly. “I can’t even be mad at you when you’re so stupidly earnest.”

Loved him in the way young, lonely people love—too fast and with too much of themselves, and Alex remembers. And remembering hurts.

Loving James was terrifying. It was danger and shame and the constant anxiety of discovery or abandonment. What he feels for Eli is still scary. But a different kind. A kind that might be worth it. He and James were bad for each other. Something it took him nearly four months of therapy to realize and another two to say out loud. The problem is he thinks he and Eli could be good for each other. Really good. Under different circumstances. In a different life. Or maybe, if he was just a little braver, in this one.

“Good job, kid,” Jeff interrupts. “And thanks to you, we won our game, so—” There are a couple indistinct shouts in the background. “What?” “Nothing!” Alex yells, followed by the sound of…hockey players being children, probably. “Alex told us we had to win in regulation because if it went into overtime, he might miss your call,” Jeff says. “He was on fire tonight. Very motivated.”

ELI ARRIVES BACK in Houston to a small unruly group of professional hockey players waiting at the airport baggage claim with ridiculous, and in some cases hardly legible, handmade signs. When he comes into view at the top of the stairs, they start screaming so loudly that Hawk is momentarily a little scared, and a security guard drifts closer to investigate the situation. Eli’s team finds this charming. Eli considers killing Alex.

Eli leans against the doorframe, watching as Alex, kneeling with his back to the hallway, smooths his thumbs over Hawk’s brow bone, fingers curled in the thick fur beneath her jaw. “—and I’m working on it. It’s just— You do a really good job, you know that?” Alex is murmuring. “You take such good care of Eli, and I probably would have been freaking out a lot more if you hadn’t been with him. So. Thank you. For that.” He presses a kiss between her little furry eyebrows, sitting back on his heels. “You’re such a good girl.” The fondness Eli feels for Alex in that moment—rumpled, barefooted Alex, knelt on the floor and thanking his dog—it’s almost stifling.

“But—” Kuzy thinks for a moment. “But you’re—not nervous. With Coops. With Pricey.” “Oh. Well, I knew Jeff would be cool because of the fundraisers and camps and stuff with You Can Play. And Alex—” Eli stalls there. Because he can’t very well say that Alex is gay too. “Alex loves you,” Kuzy says easily. “So touch okay.” “What? No. No. Alex doesn’t—” “I’m not stupid,” Kuzy says, “just because English bad. Very smart in Russian. Not need smart, though, to see Alex loves you. And”—it’s almost an afterthought—“you love Alex.”

Kuzy glances at her, then Eli, and frowns. “Hey. It’s okay. It’s secret, I know.” Eli doesn’t say anything. Can’t think of what to say. Kuzy continues to frown at him, then shifts his hands on the steering wheel, clearing his throat. “At home, in Russia, when I’m little kid—no father, Mama work always, home late, always. So, after school, I’m go, uh, house by house?” “Next door?” Eli supplies faintly. “Yes. After school, I’m go next door. Two men live next door. Old men. Funny. They listen to the radio and yell. Not angry yell, just—loud. Happy. They take good care for me and always have food for me and little things for play—toys…” He says a word in Russian, shrugs, and moves on. “They help with school. Help buy hockey gear. Good men. People say they’re…family, but not brothers?” “Cousins?” “Yes, cousins. But they’re not cousins. I’m see, sometimes, they hold hands in the house, on the couch—where no window. Touch hip. Touch neck. Soft. Like normal thing. Sleep in the same room. I’m not see kiss, ever, but I know what love looks like when it have to be secret.” Eli feels like he might cry. “I think it’s bad,” Kuzy continues gently, “not fair. But I’m not—it’s secret. I promise. Don’t worry.”

When they get to the airport, he comes around to the passenger side to help Eli with his bags. Once everything is unloaded on the curb, Eli stands on his tiptoes and, without a moment of hesitation, hugs him very, very tightly.

“Kuzy just sent me some screencaps of gossip articles, pretending to be jealous.” “Jealous about what?” “About how you and I have some sort of epic hidden romance. I know this is what you were trying to avoid, but it’s also—” He shrugs a little helplessly. “It’s also what?” “It’s nice. That people think, you know. That.” “What?” “That someone would want me. That someone like you would want me.” The look on Eli’s face—a little embarrassed, a little pleased—makes Alex feel like he’s just been punched in the stomach. And suddenly he’s angry. “I need you to do me a favor and never say anything like that ever again,” he says. Eli laughs, but it’s self-deprecating. And Alex just can’t handle it anymore. It’s not graceful. There’s a dog in between them, and Eli’s mouth is half-open because he’s about to say something else, but Alex just— Kisses him. In an awkward half lunge with one hand braced on the floor and the other moving to turn Eli’s face into his, and it’s— It’s not graceful. But it is good. At least until Eli shoves him away. “What are you doing?” he says, standing with none of his usual grace. Alex stands, too, because it seems like the thing to do. “I don’t know,” he admits. And it occurs to him now how horribly, horribly stupid that was. “I’m sorry. Fuck. I’m sorry. But your face.” “My face? What does that even—” Eli paces into the kitchen and leans both hands on the island, and Alex follows because of course he does. “You drive me crazy,” Alex says. “All the time. A...

“Yeah. If things work.” He rubs his palms down Hawk’s spine, trying to get his hands to stop shaking. “I think I could be ready by then. I’m not now. But I could be, eventually. For a good reason.” “I’m a good reason?” “Best one I’ve found.” “Holy shit. That was smooth.” Alex laughs, which was probably Eli’s goal. “Thanks.”

throat. “So. We’ve been very mature and rational about this whole thing, I think.” “Yeah?” “Which is great. But could we maybe not? For a minute?” Alex doesn’t understand. “I don’t understand.” “Well, all this talking about the future and stuff is, uh, healthy. But—” Eli licks his lips, then bites them, then makes an embarrassed noise. Oh. Alex grins. “You want to make out like a couple of teenagers for a while?” Eli grins back at him. “Yes, please.” “I’d be okay with that,” Alex says magnanimously.

He’s still mostly asleep when they get back to the apartment a few minutes later, and he makes it as far as opening the guest bedroom door, resisting the urge to climb back into bed with Alex before realizing he doesn’t have to resist anymore. And holy shit. That is the best feeling. “Hey,” Alex murmurs as Eli squirms his way under the sheets again. “Hawk?” “Yeah.” “Time is it?” “Six.” Alex makes grabby hands toward him, and Eli tucks himself back against Alex’s chest, face-to-face this time. “Hey,” Alex says again, blinking slowly at him. “You’re here.” “Uh. Yeah?” “Good. You should always be here.”

“Okay,” Cody repeats, jumping back onto the bed. “Hit me.” “Well,” Eli says, and he can’t help it, he’s already grinning like a maniac. Because here’s a sentence he never in his wildest dreams thought he would get to say: “I’m dating Alexander Price.”

“And on the eighth day,” Cody intones, eerily similar to the pastor at Cody’s church back home, “the Lord made hockey asses. And Eli felt one. And it was good.” “Hallelujah,” Eli agrees.

Eli likes Jo. He already knows from Jeff that she’s a twenty-seven-year-old doctoral student in biology, currently working on her dissertation. Jeff has repeatedly said that she’s far too smart for him, and he’s lucky he conned her into marrying him with his good looks and charm.

“She’s a lot cooler than you,” Eli tells Jeff when they get to the stadium. “She is,” Jeff agrees. “I married him for his dimples and money,” Jo says. “Fair,” Eli says. And then adds, “His ass isn’t half bad either” because he’s been thinking a lot about butts recently and apparently lacks a filter. “True. Dimples, money, and ass,” Jo amends. Jeff looks smug.

“So. Boyfriends.” “Yeah. I mean, I’m serious about this. I want you to be mine. Not in a creepy possessive way.” Eli coughs. “Okay, maybe a little bit possessive, but I would be yours too. We’d be, uh, each other’s?” Alex really is a walking disaster, but Eli’s grinning up at him, so clearly, he didn’t fuck that up too badly. “Yeah. I understand. I’d like that too.”

He tries to turn and face Jeff, but Eli’s legs are still tight around him, and when he looks back at Eli, hands sliding down to cup the thighs bracketing his waist, he gets distracted. Eli is still laughing and looking at him like—like Alex is something important. Eli licks his bottom lip, tongue followed by his upper teeth. He sits there, biting his lip and looking at Alex, and Alex feels so much. And it’s stupid. To feel this much this soon. It’s stupid and reckless and amazing, and Alex has to swallow down whatever words want to accompany this unexpected emotional upheaval. He didn’t think it was possible to feel so vulnerable and indestructible simultaneously.

Alex crawls onto the love seat with Eli and eats the scone thing out of his hand, purposely messy, while clambering over his lap and into the space next to him. “Oh my god,” Eli says, wiping his spitty hand on Alex’s shirt. “Are you twelve?” “Twelve inches,” Alex says. “I’m pretty sure that’s not true.” “It’s not,” Kuzy and Jeff say simultaneously. Alex glowers. “I’m telling Coach to trade y’all.” “Y’ALL?” Jeff repeats gleefully. Alex hides his face in Eli’s neck. Eli pats his cheek consolingly. He presses a discreet little kiss to the soft skin at the base of Eli’s throat and keeps his mouth there, smiling, because this––this is exactly what he thought he’d never have.

“Calculus is homophobic,” Eli mutters. “What?” Alex says. “How?” “I’m gay, and it inconveniences me.”

Eli swallows and tries to console himself with the thought that, now, at least, Alex has Jeff. Alex has Kuzy. Alex has Rushy. Alex has him. Alex has him. Or. Eli has Alex? They have each other. Maybe it’s the realization of that responsibility, maybe it’s the fact that Eli doesn’t do emotions well, and there are a lot of them happening right now. Regardless, whatever it is, he finds himself saying: “Come with me. For Christmas, I mean. To Alabama. Come home with me.”

“That’s nice. Listen. I—uh.” He takes a fortifying breath. “I wanted to know if it would be okay if I brought someone home with me.” “Brought someone,” she repeats flatly. “Home with you. ¿Qué quieres decir?” “Mi novio.” And for some reason saying it like that makes it even more real. “Tu novio,” she repeats loudly, and he can hear Francesca yell in the background: “Shut up, Eli has a boyfriend?” with more disbelief than he thinks is really necessary. “Elijah,” his mother says, and, oh no, that’s the serious voice again. “¿Tienes novio y no me dijiste nada hasta ahora? ¿Por qué nunca me dices nada? ¿Cómo se llama? ¿Cuánto tiempo llevan juntos?”

Well. Eli sleeping, he was prepared for. He is not prepared for Eli in his kitchen wearing the Louboutins. He is, however, prepared to admit it now: They’re sex shoes. Because holy shit. And, god. How stupid had he been to laugh when Eli first showed him the picture of those shoes on his phone. There is nothing weird or embarrassing—or whatever preconceived notions he’d had—about Eli in those shoes. And it looks like the only thing Eli is wearing apart from the shoes is Alex’s All-Star jersey from the year before. It falls to midthigh on him, black and red and so incredibly hot that Alex is going to need a moment. Maybe a couple of moments. Eli grins, crossing his arms, and hitches one hip against the countertop. “Take a picture. It’ll last longer.” “I don’t want to take a picture,” Alex answers. “I want to stand here and look at you.” “Oh. Well.” Eli bites his lip, and that really doesn’t help matters. “That’s fine too.”

It seems impossible that everything Eli is can exist in just one person. And yet. There he is. Alex brings their joined hands to his mouth, kissing Eli’s knuckles; his chest hurts, and he has to do something, and that’s the least damning action he can think of.

“Most of them will direct the conversation, but if you get a shy one, just focus on the skating. If they don’t want to talk, it’s fine. This isn’t a therapy session, it’s a philanthropy event.” “Could be both,” Jordie leans over to whisper to Rushy. “I know shooting pucks at your face always brightens my spirits.” “And watching you get all pissy when I block them brightens mine,” Rushy agrees. “See?” Rads says. “You shouldn’t have any issue interacting with them. You’re all still children yourselves. Let’s get out there.”

“I wanna stay with you,” Jesse says, tears clinging to his eyelashes. “Okay, all right. I’ll stay too, then. Eli can teach us both how to figure skate, okay?” Oh my god, how do parents ever discipline their children? Matts is the most massive pushover.

This—them—feels natural. Habitual. Like they’ve been coexisting for years and will for years to come, and it’s— God, that would be so good. It’s not even a scary thought, that Eli might be it for him. It’s only scary that Eli might not feel the same way.

“Why’d you change it? Your hair, I mean.” Eli shrugs. “It was getting long, and if people are going to keep taking pictures of me, I need to make sure I look good in them.” “You always look good,” Alex says, and it’s not even a line. “You’re sweet.” “Also true.” “And humble.” “Very true.”

“Oh. Oh my god. Please tell me there’s a goat named Jeff Cooper.” “There used to be,” Cody says. “But he was kind of a dick once he hit puberty, so they sold him.” “That,” Alex says fervently, “is the best Christmas present you could have given me.”

“Elijah!” Cody yells. “Stop kissing crusty farm animals and come see to your guest.”

“¿Por qué todos mis nietos deben enamorarse de gringos? Ay, al menos él es lindo.”

“Alexander Price’s estimated net worth,” she reads, phone still in hand, “is 3.5 million dollars.” She turns her attention to Alex. “You’re a millionaire?” “Uh. I guess? I mean. Yeah.” “And you’re dating Eli?” she says, disbelief coloring her tone. “Yes,” Alex says, much more assertively, putting down his fork so he can reach for Eli’s free hand. “And I’m lucky he’s willing to put up with me. I can’t—I’m not an easy person to date. And we didn’t start dating for a long time, even though we both really liked each other. I wasn’t willing to ask him to be a secret. That’s not right, and I wish I could tell everyone that we’re together, but—” He’s getting a little off track. “But the fact that he’s willing to be with me anyway is um— The best thing. And I’m really happy. And I don’t deserve him. So. Yes. I’m dating Eli.” Eli is grinning down at his plate. Abuela pats Alex approvingly on the shoulder. “Good boy,” she says sotto voce.

Initially, Eli had thought the bird thing was due to the narcotics, but now he’s starting to think Alex just…likes birds. Which is endearing in a way that he isn’t sure how to process.

“There’s a sweaty half-naked man on my bedroom floor,” Eli muses, leaning in the doorway. “My fifteen-year-old self would be screaming if he could see me now. Or, I guess, if he could see you now.” “You should come kiss me for his sake,” Alex says seriously and, well, who is Eli to argue?