“You’re not happy,” Adam says, interpreting Elliot’s silence as just that. “You got laid and you’re unhappy.”
“Yeah, thanks for the summary.”
“Was it bad?”
“No.”
“Was it… good?”
“Adam.”
“So it was good. Is that the problem? Did she blow your mind and you didn’t ask for her number? If she was at the party, we can probably track her down, you know?”
“It’s not…” Elliot sighs. He could tell Adam that it was a guy, because Adam knows, but they only ever talked about it once and Elliot would rather not bring it up again. “Can we drop it? Please?”
Adam’s silence is somehow judgmental. “Tell me if you change your mind,” he finally says. “I can find her.”
Elliot doesn’t doubt that Adam could find her. If she was an actual person that existed.
#
Blake goes home, feeds Squid and Angus, who are both waiting for him by the door, judging him on his walk of shame down the hallway. He takes off the sweater and he takes off the jeans, but he leaves on the shirt Elliot gave him this morning, and pulls on a pair of sweatpants.
He gets a premade meal out of the freezer and gets it cooking, then he texts Noah and asks him to call him when he has a minute. Afterwards he replies to Charlie and tells him he doesn’t need to pay for his cab, that he stayed at a friend’s place and took the train back today.
Charlie replies almost instantly: ill pay for the train then :) sorry i talked u into coming last night, I kno u didnt rly want to go.
Blake tells him not to worry about it, but doesn’t see Charlie’s reply, because Noah calls him and greets him with a cheerful, “Tell me you miss me, babe.”
“That your girl, Noah?” someone asks.
“No, it’s Blake Samuels.”
The someone in the background laughs.
“Really?” Blake says.
Noah cackles. “Sorry. You know me, I love to tease and my buddy Phil just can’t stop asking stupid questions.”
“Hey,” says Phil. Presumably.
There’s some mumbling, then Noah says, “He left.”
“You didn’t have to kick him out,” Blake says.
“No, I did, it’s my room and I’m guessing whatever you want to talk about several hours after midnight on New Year’s Eve when all the kissing happens isn’t meant for anyone else’s ears.”
Blake huffs.
“Who’d you kiss?”
“I’m an idiot,” Blake says.
“Wow, okay, sure, let’s start that way, then,” Noah says. “Tell me more, Fishy.”
Blake tells him. Everything. Not every single detail, of course, and he mostly focuses on the conversation he had with Elliot this morning, not on what happened last night. Noah hums every now and then, probably in agreement, which seems strange because Blake thought Noah might agree that he’s an idiot.
He finishes with, “And now we’ll pretend that we’re just friends. I’m sure that’ll work out great.”
“No, but…” Noah hums again. “What you did there… That was a smart choice. Because if you get involved with him and fall in love with him, and I mean more than you already are, and he decides that he’s had enough, it’ll…”
“Yeah,” Blake says. Noah doesn’t have to finish.
“Take it from someone who’s sleeping with a guy who can’t even admit he’s gay… you don’t need that bullshit in your life.”
“Dude, you okay?” Blake says, because Noah doesn’t sound okay.
“No, not really, but… I don’t know. I don’t wanna talk too much about it, because I obviously can’t let you figure out who he is, so… Anyway, Fishy, I’m glad that one of us is making reasonable choices instead of constantly running back to a guy who breaks your heart over and over again.”
“Noah–”
“No, let’s not even talk about it. I know you didn’t think I’d turn out to be the bigger idiot here, but I am. I totally am. And it’s totally a competition. I won.”
“I’m sorry you won,” Blake says.
“Yeah, it’s… I should tell him not to call me anymore. Or maybe I should stop answering the phone when he calls. I’m the master of my own misery, babe,” Noah says. “You and Cowell will figure things out, though.”
“Are you just saying that to make me feel better?”
Noah laughs. “Is it working?”
“Not really.”
“Aw, damn.”
“It’s just…” Blake trails off when Squid jumps into his lap, purring as he rolls up into a big orange ball.
“It’s just what?”
“What if he decides that his career is more important? Or that he doesn’t want to do long distance?”
“Long distance? You live as close to him as you possibly can without being on the same team. You hit the fucking jackpot.”
“You know what I mean,” Blake grumbles.
“Yeah, I know. But you and I made it work.”
“We weren’t boyfriends, though.”
“Wow, way to rub it in.”
“Sorry,” Blake says. That one’s probably overdue. “Really, I’m sorry I hurt you, I honestly didn’t–”
“Blake,” Noah interrupts, “I’m just teasing. That’s ancient history. It’s not like you forced me to have feelings for you. They just sort of happened. I got out of there, because sometimes I do make smart choices. We’re all good, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Good talk,” Noah says. “Back to your bullshit. If he decides that hockey is more important, then… maybe you dodged a bullet. I don’t know. Blake?”
“Yeah?”
“You deserve someone who loves you more than anything else in the world. Even more than hockey.”
Blake isn’t sure what to say to that, so he mumbles, “Thank you.” It comes out sounding like a question.
“You’re welcome, babe. I– Give me one second, someone’s knocking.”
Blake hears parts of a conversation about dinner, Noah calls someone a dipshit, something about the Emperor of Austria, some mumbling, then, “Hurry the fuck up.”
When Noah
