Chapter 29

CHAPTER 29

LEMON

I tried my hand at romance this morning. For the record, I have very little experience with romance. But I saw this cute meme on ShareIt about how a guy thought a fun, cute date would be getting an origami kit and making them together. They sat on his living room floor for hours, making shapes and laughing together.

When I say I spent hours trying to make these shapes, I mean that. I was up to almost one this morning trying to perfect at least one shape. I even wrote something sweet on each because that’s cute, right? Somehow, I made it through all thirty and went to bed frustrated.

This morning, I stuffed them all carefully into a paper bag and snuck into Hansley’s office to quickly leave them everywhere. Like a scavenger hunt.

But as I stood back in the door to look, I got the distinct impression that I just threw trash all over the place. They were shit—torn and crumpled, and none of them looked like the shape they were supposed to be.

I tried to dive back in and quickly scoop them all up, but I heard voices. In a panic, I flipped off his light and ran in the opposite direction, following halls blindly until I found an exit and burst into the sun. I ran all the way to my office and shut the door as I caught my breath.

Now that I’m sitting in my office feeling very hot with my tail between my legs, wishing to all the stars and aliens that I could slip back into his office and take them all back, I decide that romance must be a muscle. I have to train it and the only way to do that is to consistently focus on it. Also study. I think my idea might have been close, but the execution needed some work.

He’s going to know they’re from me. But I didn’t want to get caught there like a deer in headlights being the one who trashed his office with little scraps of paper that should not have seen the light of day!

I’m mortified. Absolutely fucking horrified.

Maybe I should message him now and apologize. You know, before he sees the mess.

A knock at my door has my heart nearly in my throat and I stare. It’s not him breaking up with me, right? Maybe I should have given him a longer disclaimer—I’m an asshole, I’m hateful as a defense mechanism, and I suck at romance. And origami, though I didn’t know that until last night.

“Coach?”

I sigh a breath of relief. “Come in, Peyton.”

He opens the door and flashes me a wide smile. “Hi,” he says.

“Hi. What’s up?”

Peyton crosses the room and falls into the chair across from me. “So, there’s an athletic department baby picture competition. Whichever picture is the cutest and has the most votes, wins. The money raised goes to that department.”

“How are they raising money?”

“I think the voters have to buy tickets to vote. It’s just a campus thing this time.” He shrugs.

“Okay, cool.”

“Is it cool if we join?”

“Are you the spokesperson, Peyton? I feel like we’ve had this conversation before.”

He laughs. “Kind of. I always volunteer to talk to you.”

There it is. His cheeky smile that’s definitely a little flirty.

“Yes, you can participate. You can participate in any department fundraiser going forward.”

His eyebrows rise in surprise, then his eyes narrow in suspicion. “Really?”

“Really. Don’t question me or I might change my mind.”

Peyton raises his hands, laughing. “Okay, okay.” He pauses again before saying, “They’re talking about a barbeque competition this spring. Teams. The teams are wide open—including that different players from different teams can team up.”

“Yeah?” I ask, wondering why I haven’t heard about this yet. Probably in a fucking email.

He nods. “Me, Winston, and Eli were thinking of making a team.”

“You know barbeque?” I ask.

He snorts. “Nope. We’ve been binging shows though and taking notes. Hopefully, we’ll just absorb a winning dish.”

I chuckle. “Sounds good.”

“So… we can have four teammates,” he hedges, and I know where this is going.

Sighing, I say, “Peyton, didn’t we already discuss?—”

“I’m not sure you saying ‘this isn’t going to happen’ is a discussion,” he snarks, crossing his arms.

Looking at his defiance, I’m suddenly reminded of the post I read online a few weeks ago about boys being taught that when someone tells you no, you just keep trying. Try harder. Get better. Be the best choice until they tell you yes.

That includes when you ask someone out and they tell you no. It’s the wrong message to send to any gender, but you always hear that persistence pays off. That applies to sports. Careers. Hobbies.

Not people. There’s a very big distinction. One I’ve only recently realized since reading that post. Now it’s saved on my phone so I can remind myself that I don’t always get what I want and demanding it isn’t how to make it happen.

This might be time for a learning experience. “Do you know what no means?” I ask.

His eyes shoot wide. “Yes, of course, Coach!”

“Does it mean that you can try again because you don’t agree with it?”

He shakes his head. “No, no.”

“Does it mean that you should keep trying to get a different answer because you want a different answer?”

Peyton’s shoulders stiffen. “No.”

“Does no mean maybe? Try again tomorrow? Next week? Ask in a different way? Ask until they finally give in just to make you stop?”

He winces, shaking his head.

“In the workplace, this is called harassment, Peyton. In life, it’s called harassment. You need to remind yourself what no means and accept that.”

This boy looks like he’s about to vomit. “I’m sorry!”

I lean across my desk and offer him my hand. Hesitantly, he places his in mine and I squeeze it gently while he looks at me, unsure.

“I know you don’t mean me harm and I understand what it feels like to have someone you’re attracted to tell you they’re not interested, Peyton. I’ve even done just what you’re doing.” His face scrunches as he hangs his head. But I grip his hand tighter, and he squeezes me back. “I’m flattered. I don’t think I can truly tell you how flattered I am. Though I get a lot of attention, it’s usually for not always the right reasons, so you make me feel seen and for that, I am very humbled. But this truly isn’t going to happen. I need you to accept that.”

“I’m sorry,” he repeats.

“I believe you and I accept it. No more, okay?”

He nods aggressively. With another squeeze of his hand, I let him go. We sit in silence for a minute before he gets up looking like a beaten dog. Peyton pauses at the door and looks back at me. “I really am sorry,” he says. “I didn’t… realize…”

I nod. Default is to tell someone it’s okay when, really, it’s not. That’s not sending the right message. An apology doesn’t mean it’s okay. Even a sincere apology doesn’t. On some subconscious level, that’s sending the message that as long as you apologize, your actions will be forgiven.

The great Christian mantra that if you repent and ask forgiveness, your sins will be forgiven. Wipe your slate clean so you can begin again. Eye roll…

So I don’t tell him it’s okay. I just nod.

“I still think it’d be cool if you wanted to join our team,” he says. “Winston and Eli were excited when I suggested it too. If you’re comfortable. It’s definitely okay if you’re not.”

I offer him a smile. “Thank you. I’ll think about it. Let me know the deadline that you need to sign up and I’ll get an answer to you by then.”

Peyton nods. “Thanks, Coach.”

Alone in my office once again, I take a breath and close my eyes. My advances were much more… aggressive toward Declan. There was no way I had accepted his no. Not until he nearly had a breakdown and Zarek came at me with a pitchfork.

In hindsight, it was completely fair of Zarek. I can’t say I’d feel differently. Or act differently.

Picking up my phone, I flinch when I see a message alert from Hansley. Oh, god, he’s seen the disaster I left his office in.

Opening it, I read his message through my fingers.

Hansley Bardot

You’re the sweetest, most adorable man I’ve ever met. I’m going to kiss the fuck out of you later.

I grin stupidly because I can’t help it. While I’m relatively sure he’s just taking pity on me, I still can’t stop smiling.

The smile lingers for most of the morning until I get bored and turn open social media on my phone while I enjoy a muffin. The first post to greet me is a picture of Hansley and Jessica with a tear down the middle. With the headline BARDOT AND ANSON TO BE DIVORCED AFTER RUMORS OF AN AFFAIR.

My stomach churns. I set my muffin down and wipe my hand on a napkin before I click on the link to expand the post.

There isn’t much actual information there. Just random speculation.

I scroll for a while more and find several more variations of the same post, but one nearly has my heart stopping. There’s a picture of Hansley on his bike with a passenger. That passenger is me, though the post isn’t sure who ‘she’ is.

Closing ShareIt, I open The Pride Room app and click to get to the chat with Hansley. But I pause there, unsure what to say. This is why he didn’t want to be seen in public with me. And I fucked it up!

After sitting here for another hour, I’m about ready to come out of my skin come lunch time. I grab a couple drinks and sandwiches from The Queer Palace Café and head to the arena. Hansley’s door is open, but when I step in front of it, I see Alka and Declan there.

While I know they’re just friends, jealousy courses through me wildly. My cheeks heat darkly too, since my mess of attempted origami is still strewn around his office. Gawd, why did I ever think that was cute?! Ew.

Alka gets up when he sees me, clapping Declan on the shoulder. Declan looks up too and joins Alka.

“I’ll see you later, man. Let me know if you need anything.”

Hansley nods as he shifts in his seat, his eyes finally landing on me. A smile touches his lips when they do, but I can see just how tired he is.

Alka and Declan slip through the door and leave us. For a minute, I hesitate where I am.

“Come here, Lemon,” Hansley whispers and holds out his hands to me like a child wanting to be picked up.

I step inside and kick the door shut behind me. Setting my offerings on his desk, I climb into his lap and wrap around him. Like the very first time I hugged this man, his grip is tight. Super tight to the point it’s almost bruising.

Turning my face into his neck, I try to think of anything at all to say. Finally, I settle with, “I’m sorry I messed up your office. It was cuter in my head.”

He chuckles. His lips brush against my jaw and ear. “I love it. I love everything about it.”

“You don’t have to pretend.”

His fingers dig into my ribs. “You need to get better at accepting that I love this gesture and all the gestures you make to show me what I mean to you. I love that no matter where I turn, I see a new one with a new note and it puts a smile on my face. They’re reminders that not all days are going to be cloudy.”

I lick my lips. “I’m guessing that means you saw the posts online?”

Hansley sighs. “Yeah. Jess called me, sobbing. Swearing that she didn’t tell anyone except her family, and she’s never mentioned an affair to anyone.”

“There’s a picture of us online,” I admit. “On your bike. The time I wore my gold jacket. Good news is they think I’m a girl, so they’re not looking this way.”

He huffs. “There’s no good news about that.”

“No, it’s good news. You don’t need sexuality slurs mixed in with this too. Give it time. You can live that fun life later.”

He’s quiet for a minute before pushing me back to look at me. “You’re serious.”

I nod. “Not on campus. This is like one of the few truly safe places in the world. This is an inaccurate introduction to the queer world because everyone is accepted here—every race, creed, orientation, gender. RDU is not a true representation of what you face in the world. Glensdale is relatively safe, too. But I think that’s a spillover from RDU more than anything. When you’re the city that has a big, gay campus smack in the middle of it, it tends to drive the dickheads away and attract the superior individuals in the world.”

I’m not sure what planet this man lived on before, but it’s clear that he has exactly zero experience with anything that could attract haters. A part of me wants to protect that. To prevent him from ever having to face that shit.

But that’s not realistic. It’s not safe.

Hansley sighs, dropping his head so his forehead rests on mine. “I’m going to keep you out of this as long as I possibly can.”

“It’s okay. You said we couldn’t be public. You know—well-known secret. No more bike rides until it blows over.”

I’m surprised when he shakes my head. “No, Lemon. We’re just going to get you a helmet that hides your face better. To keep you as anonymous as possible. I don’t want this to affect you.”

My stomach flutters. “You still want to go on bike rides?”

He pulls me forward, pressing his mouth to mine. “Yes. I’m not ashamed, I’m not hiding. I want to protect you and Jess as much as I can. That’s all. So, low profile, but not invisible.”

“Oh!” I say, sitting up. “I have an idea. I saw celebrities do this. They wear the same clothes to and from everywhere they go, so the paparazzi always sees the exact same thing, which means no one believes it’s different content. We can do that. I’ll always wear the helmet and gold jacket when we’re on your bike and you can always wear the same thing too. They can be our outside outfits! They’ll move on quicker.” I pause. “Probably.”

Hansley’s smiling as he watches me. His hand raises, his thumb brushing my lip. No more words pass between us for a few minutes. I’m not sure what he’s thinking, but when he looks at me like that, I can’t help but think that I’m dangerously close to falling for this man.