Matty sat down on the massage table to wait.
The clinic had a different color scheme than the one he usually went to for his appointments—green and taupe cabinets, instead of blue and white. Other than that, it was almost the same. It would have been comforting if Matty wasn’t about to crawl out of his skin.
His heart pounded. He was surprised the receptionist had even led him back without a drug test. He knew he’d probably come across as a nutcase given how he’d been shaking and twitching as he’d signed in and filled out the paperwork. Of course he might in fact be a nutcase. At that moment he wasn’t entirely sure if he was okay with that.
It had only taken a dozen phone calls to Manhattan clinics to discover Rob was completing his internship at a practice not even twelve blocks from where Matty lived. It blew his mind to think that Rob had been so close and yet, in the hustle of the city, they’d never run into each other. But now they were going to run into each other for sure.
Any second now.
Oh God.
Matty fiddled with his necklace, touching the tabs Ben had etched. He shook and felt cold, so he pulled the carefully folded green blanket over his lap. It wasn’t any better quality than the blankets in Meredith’s office.
Minutes passed.
He was still fully dressed in track pants and a tee, but he’d taken off his socks and sneakers. He stared down at his toes. He needed a pedicure, but beyond that his feet looked a disaster—beaten up and wounded. They had nothing on his knees, which were bruised from an unfortunate fall doing a simple waltz jump.
He’d secretly taken the subway to a rink in Queens since he shouldn’t have even been on the ice at this stage of healing. But he hadn’t been able to keep himself away. At least he’d landed on his hands and knees to avoid smashing his hip directly. Even so, it had hurt so badly he’d almost vomited on the ice.
He wondered what Rob would think of him. What would he say? Matty’s pulse raced. This was a terrible idea. He should go. He should put his shoes on and just leave.
But no. He’d already canceled with Meredith.
Before he was ready, Matty heard the sound of his patient file being removed from the plastic container on the back of the door.
Sweat broke out over his body. The door opened and a tall, blond man in blue scrubs walked in with a wide, welcoming smile and glittering, green eyes. Matty’s heart stopped, his stomach rolled, and he felt as though he couldn’t breathe.
“Good morning,” Rob said, and then stopped short with his hand on the knob of the now-closed door. “Holy shit.”
Holy shit was right. Matty didn’t know if he was going to cry or be a massive drama queen and pass out. Rob looked amazing. He was beautiful. And real. And right there in front of him. What the fuck was he supposed to say? Why hadn’t he planned this out better? Had he really thought he should wing it? He was insane. This was insane.
Rob.
“Matty,” Rob whispered. He cleared his throat. “I…wow, it’s been a long time.”
Matty heard himself replying, but he didn’t know what he was saying. It was the same part of himself that took over after competitions, talking to the press, filling in the silence with sound. Afterwards, watching himself on video, he was always impressed at how he held it together, how he managed to make sense, but it was all second-hand to him because he had no recollection of it.
Rob took a deep breath. “Ben told me—I knew you were in the city—and he told me, and when I saw the name Matthew Marcus on my schedule I ho—wondered, but—you look…” Rob trailed off.
“Rough?”
“You look good.” Rob blinked, an expression of hurt dropping over his features, and then, with a shake of his head, he cleared it away. “So, did you realize you were making an appointment with me? Or…?”
“I knew. I wanted to see you.”
“I see.” Rob swallowed hard and opened Matty’s file. He shook his head, rubbed a hand over his eyes, and sighed.
“That bad?” Matty asked.
“A Type 2 labral tear requiring hip arthroscopy and shaving, on top of chondromalacia patellae from a misaligned knee cap, followed by additional injuries from a stubborn refusal to rest and recuperate on the part of the patient? Let’s just say it’s not the prettiest thing I’ve read this week.”
Meredith scolded him sometimes, but Rob sounded like Matty had really let him down. It made his stomach hurt. What the fuck am I doing here anyway? What was I thinking?
“Okay, I’ll step out of the room and you get undressed to your underwear. We’ll start with massage to get your muscles loose, and then move on to the weights and machines.”
Matty carefully folded his clothes and placed them on the chair, staring at the door Rob had just closed behind him. He was terrified that when the knock came, it would be someone else. He lay down on the table and covered himself with the blanket, his eyes on the ceiling tiles while his mind raced madly.
“Aren’t you going to ask why I wanted to see you?” Matty blurted out as Rob stepped back into the room. Relief at the fact that Rob hadn’t sent another therapist to deal with him made him ask without thinking.
“This is my place of business. As far as I’m concerned, you’re here for treatment,” Rob said, lifting the blanket off Matty’s leg to start working on his calf. “I see you’ve got some fresh bruising here on your knees. I’m guessing you still aren’t following doctor’s orders about going out on the ice. Is this disregard endorsed by your coach?”
Matty cleared his throat. “Valentina would probably kill me with her bare hands.”
“Mm-hmm,” Rob murmured. “I’d like to witness her technique. Sell tickets. I’ll attend.”
“It can be my final show.” Matty yelped as Rob’s fingers hit a tender area. “Ow! Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”
Rob smiled tightly. “I may not have my certification yet, but yes, I know what I’m doing.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“Maybe I should get another therapist in here for you.” He said it like it had only just occurred to him that he might do that.
“No. I don’t want another therapist. I only want to see you.”
Rob went back to massaging. “Okay. Then you need to stay calm.”
Matty widened his eyes. Had Rob gone insane? How was he supposed to stay calm? Rob was acting like he was going to treat Matty as a patient. Was Matty going to have to just spell out what was going on here?
“Can’t you talk to me?” Matty said. “Please?”
“What do you want me to say?”
“I don’t know. Tell me things, like how you decided to become a physical therapist, and what happened to the ranch. Just…please talk to me. I’ve missed you.”
Rob’s mouth worked for a moment, and Matty’s stomach twisted. He just knew that Rob was going to refuse or possibly even leave the room.
“I sold the ranch. Bing bought me out.”
“Right. Bing.” Matty hadn’t thought of Bing in a long time.
“That gave me enough money to go back to school. Anja was right, of course. She usually is, and it turned out that physical therapy is a good fit.”
“That’s great. Right?”
“Yeah, of course. I find my work very rewarding.”
“And Ben?”
Rob’s expression turned a bit skeptical. “As you well know, Ben is still skating and has a new coach in New Jersey, so I relocated with them.”
“You live in Jersey? I’m thinking of moving there.”
“No. I live in Brooklyn.”
Matty smiled, trying to keep Rob engaged with him. “Brooklyn’s good. What part?”
Rob frowned and was silent for a long moment. “Park Slope.”
“Quality.”
“Yeah, it’s a nice place. Anyway, I’m sure Ben’s told you but his goal is Junior Worlds this year. They think he’ll make it.” He smiled softly at Matty and then turned his focus back to his work. “It’s hard to sum up almost two and a half years in a few sentences, but that about does it.”
Rob shifted the blanket down over Matty’s left leg and moved on to his right, which was the injured side of his body. Matty shut up because it hurt a hell of a lot, and he had to concentrate on not yelling from the pain. Rob grew very quiet as well, very intense and focused on his work. Matty glanced up at him occasionally, and then forced himself to look away because it was too much. Too close to something this wasn’t.
“Okay, I’m going to stretch your leg now. Take a deep breath, and as you let it out, I’m going to push your leg up, okay? It’s going to hurt but—”
“I fucking know, okay?” Matty gritted out as his hands clenched on the edge of the table.
Rob ran his hands soothingly down Matty’s leg, and then reached up to Matty’s fingers, prying them loose. “Relax.”
Matty felt a small quiver run through him. He recognized the voice—warm and commanding. It brought back so many memories and none of them were appropriate for the therapy room.
Rob came around the table and moved his hands over Matty’s shoulders, pressing the tension down his arms to his fingertips. “Stay relaxed. Close your eyes. Good.”
Rob’s hands felt so big and warm, and Matty could almost believe he was back in Rob’s bedroom at the ranch. His stomach flip-flopped.
“Now breathe in the sky. Take in the entire sky and let it out.”
“Ridiculous,” Matty muttered.
“Do it.”
His voice was the one Matty obeyed—the voice that took him places he was afraid to go and brought him back whole. Matty breathed deeply, the sky moving into his lungs. He blew it back out, blue and expanding and huge.
“Again,” Rob said. “Now I’ll lift your leg when you exhale.”
Matty whimpered a little but he handled the pain better than usual. His body stayed relaxed, and Rob took the stretch farther than Meredith managed, pushing Matty’s leg up, then using his arm to adjust Matty’s hip and bring it into alignment.
“Good,” Rob said.
He felt so rewarded. He wanted to do it again and hear Rob say it just like that.
Matty opened his eyes on the fourth repetition, and his entire body jerked, a shock of hot pain arcing through him. He met Rob’s gaze, intimate and raw, focused on Matty in a way that was so familiar that it made Matty feel like he’d come home after a really fucking brutal trip.
“Hey,” Matty said, his voice small.
“All right?”
“Yeah,” Matty whispered.
Swallowing hard, Rob lowered Matty’s leg and stepped back from the table, making notes in the chart. “Range of motion is better than last week, according to the file your former therapist sent over, and—”
“Are you seeing anyone?” Matty asked, his heart hammering in his chest and his mouth dry. The fierce wings of hope beat in his stomach, and he looked up at Rob through his lashes.
“Yes. I am.”
“Oh.” It was more of an involuntary reaction than anything else, as if the wind was knocked out of him.
“For a while now. And you?”
Matty stared at him, licked his lips and said, “Yeah, me too.”
Rob’s eyebrows lifted and he sat down on the small chair beside the massage table with a bottle of IcyHot in his hand. He lifted the blanket from Matty’s legs again and began to rub it into Matty’s muscles. “Is his name Figure Skating?”
Matty stared at the ceiling, his throat tight. “Of course.”
“He’s as abusive as ever it seems,” Rob said. “Still fucking you without any lube.”
“Something like that.” The ceiling tiles were white with black holes, and he began to count them silently, trying to hold onto something tangible before the tears took over.
“Okay, we’ll move to the exercise room now,” Rob said, patting Matty’s leg. “Get dressed and we’ll see how you do with the weights.”
Half an hour later, Matty was sweating and hurting, wanting to go home, take a Motrin, cry for a month, and then sleep for a year. He was going to have to take a cab back to his apartment because walking was out of the question, as were the steps down to the subway.
“Well, Matty,” Rob said as he guided him toward the front waiting room. “It was good to see you.”
“You too.”
“So now that you’ve satisfied your curiosity, you can go back to your former therapist, and this will be the end.”
Matty narrowed his eyes. “Is that what you think this was about? Curiosity?”
After a long moment, Rob shrugged. “Go back to your former therapist.” He walked away.
As Matty wrote a check for his co-pay, he watched Sylvia, the receptionist, peck at the keyboard. “Sylvia, can you schedule me with Rob for next week?”
“But I thought he just said…” She trailed off and put a long, French-manicured nail between her teeth.
“He’s got much stronger hands than my previous therapist and I thought we had a better rapport.”
Sylvia looked even more confused.
“We got along well,” Matty clarified.
“Let me check Rob’s schedule,” Sylvia said, uncertainly. “He’s got…well, the only open slots he has right now are Tuesdays and Thursdays at ten in the morning?”
“I’ll take them both.”
***
The elegant curving line of Murano-glass bubbles swept along above Matty and Elliot in the Saks Fifth Avenue shoe department. Elliot stood before one of the full-length mirrors with one slim hip jutted out. The B Brian Atwood ankle boots encasing his narrow feet were stunning four-inch heels with tops made of iridescent canvas and suede and cut with peep-toes. The purple and turquoise feather print matched his purple skinny jeans and pink button-up nicely.
“I look amazing in these, bitch.”
Matty took in Elliot’s tall, skinny frame—all pointy elbows and sharp corners—and his soft blond hair, wide, innocent-looking brown eyes, and full lips. His best friend did indeed look amazing. He even tried to infuse his voice with enthusiasm when he said, “Buy them, then.”
“They’re five hundred and twenty-five bucks. Are you crazy? That’s like a fourth of my rent.”
Still Elliot looked thoughtful as he considered the shoes a few more moments. Then he turned to Matty and indicated the metallic and snakeskin three-inch heels Matty had requested. “Aren’t you going to try those on? Or did you scandalize the salesgirl for nothing?”
“She wasn’t scandalized. This is Saks. No one’s ever scandalized here.”
“Not that they let on anyway.”
“And I don’t think we’re allowed to call them salesgirls. I think that’s sexist or something. We probably have to call them shoe specialists.” Matty put the shoes aside with a sigh.
Elliot’s brows lowered and he sat down next to Matty, taking his hands in his own. “Oh my God, what’s wrong? Is it your mother? Does she have cancer or something?”
“What are you talking about?”
“We are on a girls’ day out together and you won’t even try on your shoes! Something awful has to have happened.”
“She’s fine. I mean, as far as I know, she’s fine.” He hadn’t actually talked to her in a while since he was avoiding telling her about Rob. He was also avoiding telling Elliot about Rob, so he had to tread carefully now. Still, he could use his best friend’s advice, even if he already knew what it was going to be.
“Are you sick? Is it your hip? Or your knee? Is something not healing right?” He gasped. “Did you get tested and you’re positive?”
Matty ripped his hands out of Elliot’s grasp. “That’s not even funny.”
“I’m not trying to be funny, bitch, I’m trying to figure out why you’re broken. Shoes, Matty. There are shiny shoes right in front of you but they aren’t on your feet!”
Matty rubbed his hands over his face, and Elliot softly cursed.
“And now you’ve smeared your mascara,” he said, reaching over to rub his thumb under Matty’s eyes.
Glancing in the mirror, he saw that Elliot had only made it worse. Instead of looking like he’d smeared his mascara, he now had really dark circles under his eyes, like maybe he was actually sick.
“It’s about my skating career,” Matty said, bending over to put on the shoes so Elliot would stop imagining the worst. He didn’t need to look up to know Elliot was rolling his eyes. It was evident in the slight bend of his body away from Matty and his exasperated huff of breath.
“You know what I think about that,” Elliot said, standing up to examine his feet in the B Brian Atwoods again.
“I know.” Matty strapped the shoes on, noting that he definitely needed a pedicure before he saw Rob again, and stood gingerly, putting the weight on his good leg. The heels made him almost as tall as Elliot was normally. “These are only three hundred and seventy-five,” Matty said. “A bargain price.”
“If you quit skating, you might actually have some money to spend on some extravagances, baby. No more coaches to pay. No more costumes. No more choreographers or travel expenses or fees.”
He said it slow and enticing, like Matty had always imagined a drug pusher would sound when offering him heroin or steroids. “You have a good point.”
The shoes lifted his already gargantuan skater’s ass up in the air, and he turned to study his reflection. His strong, thin legs were wrapped up in dark gray skinny jeans, and his shapely arms looked good coming out of the open sleeves of the long, purple, clinging Phillip Lim silk T-shirt dress he wore. Still, no matter how good the shoes looked, or how well they complemented his outfit, there was no way he was going to drop that much for them. It wasn’t even a temptation.
“Don’t you love living in the city?” Elliot asked. “Remember back home in Virginia when we risked getting punched just for wearing lip gloss? Well, baby, look at us now. Alive and well in the Big Apple and both of us pretty as princesses.”
Matty smiled and put his arm around Elliot’s waist. He remembered their childhood in Virginia well. From the very first moment he’d passed Elliot that glitter crayon, it had been the two of them against a world bent on humiliating and hurting them for being too obviously gay.
“Remember gym class?” Matty asked.
“Who could forget Jim and Sam Mayfield? Twin closet cases, I bet you anything.”
“Yeah, probably. They were a nightmare, but at least we had each other.” Matty remembered how nervously they’d waited for the thuggish twins to come through the locker room after P.E. class.
“Nothing like the comfort of knowing that if we had to be tortured, we’d be tortured together.”
Matty almost mentioned physical therapy, since torture had come to mind during the weight session with Rob. But he wasn’t going to chance bringing that up with Elliot just yet. He needed it to play out first. It’d be less humiliating when it all came crashing down around his head if he was the only one who knew what he had done.
Elliot murmured, “You should totally buy those. Quit skating and buy them.”
Matty wondered what Rob would think of him in the shiny metallic heels. In Montana, he’d never worn his most outrageous shoes. There’d been too much snow and his mother hadn’t sent them anyway. Would Rob think he looked hot? Matty bit his lip and stared at himself in the mirror. His eyes were dark and tired, his skin was pale and clear, but he was still sexy, in a world-weary sort of way, wasn’t he? The shoes did make his ass look like it was served up on a platter. How could Rob resist that?
He has a boyfriend. He’s a loyal, good man who will respect his partner. That’s how.
“Seriously, they look so hot on you. Be crazy. Buy them.”
“I think I might,” Matty said, staring at the way the metallic leather caught the light reflecting from the cascading bubbles above. “Quit competing, that is.”
Elliot clucked his tongue. “Oh, bitch, don’t lie to me.”
Matty lifted his gaze and locked it on Elliot. “I’m not.” The certainly washed over him. His skin tingled, and his breath caught.
He was going to quit competing. It was the right thing. He was ready to move on.
His throat was dry, and he swallowed thickly. “Will you be honest with me, Elliot?”
“You know I will.”
“Will you think less of me if I throw in the towel and stop competing?”
“Are you being serious right now?”
“Yes.”
Elliot’s face flushed, and he grabbed Matty’s hands. “No. A world of no, baby. I swear on my soul, Matty. No one could think less of you, not if they know what you’ve given up and what you’ve gone through for this sport.”
“Really?”
“Matty, I’m so proud of you. I’ve always been so proud of you. I tell everyone I know what an amazing person you are because I love you—for you. Not because you’re some world-famous figure skater, okay? To be honest, that’s not got a lot of street cred attached it, if you know what I mean? I mean, you’re no NBA quarterback.”
Matty chuckled. “You know nothing about sports.”
“Like you do?”
“I’m a world-class athlete! And it’s NFL quarterback.”
“Sure. Well, are we done being sincere now? It makes me look pale.”
Matty squeezed Elliot’s hand and took a deep breath. “I think this is it, Elliot. This is the right time for me to hang up the skates. I’m getting a little old for all this bullshit.”
Elliot’s long lashes fluttered and a hand came up to his chest. For a moment, he looked like he was going to break into a grin, and Matty’s heart lifted in anticipation of that familiar, loved expression. But then he narrowed his eyes and his lips straightened tightly at the edges.
“Why?”
Matty closed his eyes. How could he sum up everything? It was the way Hank Babikov skated, it was the pain of surgery, and the agony of physical therapy. It was the way Rob smiled and the hope that even if he couldn’t have Rob—but he wanted Rob, dammit—that maybe he’d find someone to have a life with.
It was the fact that he had only kept training because that was all he knew how to do. It was because he didn’t know what life looked like without figure skating controlling every aspect of it, and he thought he really should find out.
“Because I’m done. I just need to figure how to do it and when. I could send Joanna a text right now, but I should give her the respect of saying it to her face. Valentina probably knows, but I should talk to her too. Man to man, so to speak. She’ll think it’s for the best. If she’s one thing, it’s practical.”
“When? Because I won’t believe it until I see it.”
“I’ll talk to Valentina tomorrow, and Joanna next week. She’ll need to market my career in a whole new way if I’m not competing. There could be other opportunities now that I don’t even know about.”
“Totally. This could be a great thing, Matty.”
“Yeah. She’ll know better than I do what I might do next. She’s guided other skaters through the transition.”
“Matty Marcus, you are my hero,” Elliot whispered, his brown eyes filling with tears.
“What the fuck, Elliot?” Matty cupped Elliot’s cheek. “You’re going to mess up your make-up and I don’t even know why.”
“Because you’re amazing. You’re strong and smart, and you’re so fucking brave. I know you’re scared to make this choice, but this is going to be the best thing you ever did. Wait and see.”
Matty refrained from reminding Elliot that once he’d promised that Matty was going to be the next Olympic champion with very nearly the same words. Instead, he let Elliot pull him into a fierce embrace.
“You’re going to buy those shoes,” Elliot said. “Understand me, bitch? You’ll buy those fucking shoes and we’ll celebrate your profound and very adult decision by spending shit tons of money on frivolous items. Got it?”
“I’ll buy those for you too,” Matty said. “As my promise to you. I’m done with figure skating.”
“Holy shit, are you serious? You don’t have to do that. Besides, you don’t have that kind of money.”
“No, I don’t. But hey, when’s the last time I did something incredibly stupid?”
“Uh, how about when you admitted that you didn’t think that Anna Wintour was the finest bitch of high fashion? That was stupid.”
“I don’t get your obsession with her. She’s just a fifty-something, uptight, rich lady with access to good clothes.”
“Don’t make me cut you.”
“Whatever. Buying these shoes is stupider than not worshipping at the altar of Vogue’s elderly editor…and I earned it.”
“You totally earned it with blood, sweat, and tears.”
Matty paid for their shoes, and the very un-scandalized shoe specialist smiled winningly as he handed her the credit card. He pulled Elliot close and wrapped his arm around his waist. “No matter what, it’s you and me against the world, right? I can count on you? Together forever?”
“Together forever,” Elliot answered and kissed his cheek solemnly.
***
Matty didn’t know what he expected from Rob, but some kind of acknowledgment that Matty had rather defiantly returned the next week was definitely on that list. Yet Rob didn’t say a thing.
He worked with Matty twice a week, and kept it strictly professional. It took a lot of effort to get him to open up about anything aside from Matty’s hip and his therapy, but eventually Rob chatted about Ben and his skating goals, and about the leaky faucet in his apartment in Brooklyn. But he never said anything like, “So, what the fuck are you up to, Matty? Why are you here?”
Matty didn’t tell him, but he thought Rob was a better therapist than Meredith anyway. Matty always wanted to impress people, but when it came to Rob it went beyond that. Hearing Rob say the word “good” made Matty shiver and relax at the same time. It made him want to do whatever it was again, only better, and maybe with an orgasm at the end.
He missed being with Rob so much it ached, and though he had no intention of backing out, Matty asked himself nearly every day what it was he was doing. He’d never been good at keeping secrets from his mother, and yet he didn’t tell her about Rob. Nor did he tell Rob that he’d broken up with his boyfriend, Figure Skating.
One night, he pulled up the picture of Ben and Rob with the guy with the terrible teeth. Matty stared at it, wondering if he was the man in Rob’s life. If he’d moved from Montana with Rob because he’d been smart enough to not let a good thing get away, or if they were carrying on a long-distance thing.
He closed the file and bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood.
The next day at therapy, Matty swallowed back a yelp of pain during the weight training session. With his eyes still closed in effort, he asked, “How long have you been seeing your boyfriend now?”
Rob’s voice was casual when he answered, “Hmm. I guess for about two years. Maybe a little longer. It’s hard to say. I should keep better track of those things.”
Matty gritted his teeth together, his gut burning as he opened his eyes. He couldn’t stop himself from spitting out, “Why do I always get replaced by someone uglier than me?”
Rob blinked at him for a moment and looked as though he might laugh. “I have no idea.”
“I mean, it’s called an orthodontist. Look into it. And that’s all I have to say about that.”
Rob seemed flummoxed, and Matty wanted to punch him. Then Matty wanted to punch himself for having given so much away in just a few seconds. Sometimes he hated his mouth.
“All right,” Rob said, and Matty heard the quiver of repressed laughter in his voice. “Let’s add some additional weight and see how you tolerate it.”
“Bitch,” Matty said. “Fine, that teeth thing was low. I apologize.”
Rob shrugged. “It’s got nothing to do with your random comment on teeth, Matty. It’s just my job.”
“Professional sadist at my service,” Matty murmured, surprised at the venom in his voice.
“Ten reps. If you can do it,” Rob said, cheerfully.
After that, Matty listened every day for some kind of mention of the guy Rob was seeing. He strained to come up with questions that might elicit a response from Rob that included the guy’s name, or, more importantly, if Rob was in love with him. Matty thought not. Surely Rob would talk about him a lot more if he was in love with him. Or was Rob just being polite and sparing Matty’s feelings?
“So, does your boyfriend enjoy restraints?” Matty practiced asking the mirror one night as he moisturized. He attempted to look incredibly innocent while saying the words, but he had to admit, there was just no way he was going to ask that. Well, not yet anyway.
“Is it as good with him as it was with me?” Matty tried. Again, it just wasn’t happening.
Still it pricked at his mind like those horrible garden weeds his mother used to make him pull—the ones that just irritated the surface of his skin at first, a slight annoyance, but over time became a fire of itchy madness that couldn’t be scratched enough or entirely washed away with soap.
Did the mystery guy suck cock well? Did he beg for it like Matty had? Was he better at…anything? Because seriously, Matty didn’t know how it could be better than what they’d had together. But maybe Rob didn’t feel the same. Maybe in-need-of-an-orthodontist guy had a magic ass and made Rob shoot glitter or something.
Maybe Matty needed to accept that he could never turn back time. That he and Rob were over for good.
“I’m glad we can be friends,” Rob said one day at the very end of their next session, right after he’d let Matty know he’d improved enough to drop to only one visit a week. Earlier, while Matty had worked his way almost easily through the weight training, Rob had revealed to Matty some of Ben’s issues with his coach, and Matty had given him earnest and hard-won advice to pass on.
“Me too,” Matty lied, and he endured Rob’s friendly clap on the shoulder with a smile.
“Listen, I hope this isn’t asking too much, but this entire conversation reminded me of a favor I’ve wanted to ask you.”
“Anything.” Matty hoped this favor didn’t include something horrible like picking Rob’s boyfriend up at the airport, because Matty might shove him out of the moving car before he could stop himself.
“Would you be willing to meet with Ben on the ice and give him some pointers to work on his artistry?”
“I’m pretty sure that would piss off his coach.”
“Well, it might, but I’d like to think that Greg would know when he has a good opportunity right in front of him. You’d be amazing for Ben, and I know he’d love to work with you again. You could be so good for him right now. If you have the time, of course. I’m sure you’ll be busy soon with full-time training again and—”
“I’ll always have the time for him.” Maybe this was the opportunity to tell Rob that Matty had time for him too. Yet somehow the words wouldn’t come. If he told Rob he’d quit skating then Rob might think of him as a failure. That would be devastating. At least if Rob didn’t know, it seemed like Matty had something.
“Great. I’ll let Ben know to expect a text from you about it.” Rob checked his watch. “I have to get to my next patient. Have a good day.”
As Matty left the clinic, the world looked strange. It seemed like someone had turned New York City into a lifeless puppet show. Ambling blindly down the street, barely paying attention to where he was going and lost in the weirdness inside his mind, there were two things Matty Marcus knew for sure.
First—regardless of anything else, he wanted to work with Ben. The thought excited him and broke his heart at the same time. He wanted to help Ben skate up to his potential. Maybe he could even look into choreographing for him. Somewhere in his soul where she’d been resting for a long time, Yuliya Yasneyeva was ready to make a comeback.
Second—he absolutely did not want to be friends with Rob Lovely.