Like Real People Do (Breakaway #1)

by E.L. Massey

“Honey, it’s seventy-five degrees. That’s not hot. You should know what hot is; you live in Houston.” “Where it is currently a reasonable forty-five degrees,” Alex argues. “Because it’s December. Also. Honey?” “Yes?” “No, I mean, since when do you call me honey?” And oh. That’s embarrassing. “Sorry.” “No,” Alex says, ears pink. “It’s fine. I just—I’ve never, uh—” He pauses, looking thoughtful. “Can I call you things too?” Eli doesn’t laugh as it’s clear Alex is self-conscious but powering through anyway. “Things like what?” He resists the urge to tack on a “sweetheart.” Alex opens his mouth. Then he closes it. His ears go a little bit more red. “Can I think about it?” “Of course, sweetheart.” And, well, Eli has never been good at denying himself. From the way Alex is looking up at him, it’s not a problem.

Alex shifts, glancing toward the open bathroom door, then back at Eli. He tucks one thumb under the elastic of his shorts and tugs, enough to emphasize the cut V of his hips. “Do you. Uh. Want to join me?” he asks, nodding toward the tub. Eli’s fifteen-year-old self would be having a heart attack right now.

SOMEONE COULD PROBABLY make a popular reality TV show about grandmothers and altruistic, overly eager NHL players shopping at Walmart together.

“Sé que no parece, pero en realidad está bastante ansioso por este viaje. Si lo dejo enfocarse en cuidarme, le ayudará a no obsesionarse con otras cosas.” He understands her desire to fuss over him, but letting Alex fuss over him is probably the only thing reining in Alex’s anxiety right now, and Eli’s not about to let his interfering grandmother derail Alex’s retail therapy. “Ah,” she says, looking apologetic. “Me preguntaba por qué no estabas haciendo un escándalo,” she says. “Bien. Voy a devolver las cosas.” He knew she would understand. She operates the same way, after all. “Gracias.”

“Ya sé. Estoy tratando de ayudarte.” But that makes no sense. How is her speaking Spanish helping him? It’s not like he needs the practice. “¿Qué quieres decir?” “Le gusta cuando hablas español. Mira su cara ahora mismo.” Eli glances at Alex and…okay. Yes, Eli realizes. That’s definitely Alex’s badly concealed turned-on face. Apparently, he likes it when Eli speaks Spanish. Interesting. “¿No lo sabías?” she asks. “No,” he admits, “I didn’t know.” “You’re welcome,” she says.

Eli is tucked under Alex’s arm, casually leaning into him as Alex tells a story about meeting Cristiano Ronaldo at an Under Armour shoot—Eli’s father listens, enraptured, Francesca pretends she’s not equally impressed—and it’s just— It’s perfect. There are Christmas carols on, and Abuela is crocheting something and— He used to dream about this. About a “someday” in the vague and distant future. Where someone would love him as much as he loved them. And that’s— Well. That’s definitely what’s happening here. He looks up at Alex, and Alex is looking down at him with a half-smile, eyes crinkled and fond. He’s looking at Eli the same way he’s been looking at Eli for months, since maybe even before the awkward lurch of a kiss on the living room floor. And what’s worse, Eli knows he’s looking at Alex—has been looking at Alex—in the same way. It shouldn’t come as a surprise. He recognizes that, distantly, as he stands. “You okay?” Alex asks. “Yeah, I need to—I’m tired. I’m gonna go take a shower.” He knows he’s being rude, but he somehow neglected to realize until now that he’s in love with Alex.

“I’m in love with Alexander Price. Fuck.” “Uh. Should I come back later?” Alex asks from the bathroom doorway, and Eli turns to look at Hawk, betrayed. It’s her responsibility to let him know if anyone else enters the bedroom. She is unrepentant. “So,” Eli says since it’s not like he has any other options. “I love you. Apparently.” “Okay?” “I’m—okay? What do you mean ’okay’? This is not okay. This is the opposite of okay.” And that’s Alex’s hurt face. “No,” Eli says, reaching for him. “I mean— That came out wrong. Sorry. How are you being so calm about this? This is a big deal.” “Because it’s not new for me,” Alex says. “I’ve been in love with you for a while.” “A while.” “Yeah.” “All right.” Eli takes an intentional breath. “So. We’re doing this, then.” “We’re doing what?” “This—we’re in love. With each other. That’s a thing that’s happening.” “Yes,” Alex agrees. “Sorry. This makes things a lot more real, I guess.” “Do you…not want it to be?” “No. No, I do. Oh my god, I do. But I thought you’d get tired of me. Or change your mind. And I’d be brokenhearted, and it would be shitty. But you’ve gone and talked to your agent and management and— Are you really going to come out?”

He takes a breath. The kind of breath that means he’s trying to formulate a sentence he’s never said out loud before. “I was so lonely before you. Except I didn’t even realize I was lonely. I thought that was the way I was supposed to be.” Eli’s throat is abruptly tight. “Alex.” “So. My point is. There’s no going back for me, now.” “Okay,” Eli says and sort of throws himself at Alex, and Alex catches him because of course he does. “Hey,” Eli says a minute later, palms pressed to the sides of Alex’s neck. “Hey,” Alex agrees, lacing his fingers at the small of Eli’s back. “Te amo,” Eli says. And Alex’s face lights up like the fucking sun. It’s not fair. It’s so easy—too easy—for Eli to make Alex smile like that. Eli can’t decide if he loves or hates having that ability. He doesn’t know if it’s one he should be trusted with. “Yeah?” Alex asks softly and so happy. “Yeah,” Eli says, and he means it. He means it. Means it in a big, terrifying, unwieldy way. Alex grins, ducking to kiss him, and Eli closes his eyes and tries not to be scared. “Good,” Alex says. “I love you too.”