Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

TORIN

I’m almost always one of the last people at the arena. While it’s not necessarily required of me to stay until the last guest leaves, I generally hang around the lobby so kids and whoever else can get a last-minute picture with Surry the Seal if they want to.

When I interviewed for this job, one of the things I asked was how often I had to talk to someone as the mascot. The answer? Never. Surry is a seal, and they don’t talk. At least, that’s what I convinced them and they agreed. Mascots don’t have a voice. We learn to communicate via exaggerated body language and gestures.

I’d like to think my mascot game has improved in the few years I’ve been doing this. Not having to speak to anyone is freeing in a way I can’t quite explain. Added on top of that, when no one can actually see me— me! —I feel like an entirely different person. I’m not Torin Jonah who has to warn all his hook ups that I’m ridiculously awkward and shy to the point of crippling anxiety so if they can’t just get to fucking, preferably in the dark and quickly so I don’t have to think too hard about being around someone, then I’m not coming over.

I’m not even Torin Jonah at all. Torin Jonah can’t speak to people. He can’t sit in a crowd or be looked at too long by a single person, never mind more than one. Torin Jonah becomes paralyzed with anxiety when surrounded by strangers.

Being Surry has given me the ability to breathe. To explore myself and be among people without having to be me. I’ve learned to loosen up, dance and laugh and have some fun. As long as I’m behind a mask, I’m fine. As long as no one looks at me as anything other than a mascot, everything is perfectly good.

In a lot of ways, I think taking this job has been one of the best decisions I ever made. My parents might not think much of it. They think it’s thoughtless and juvenile. It’s not a career .

While I suppose I understand their point, it's more than just putting on a costume. It’s about getting fan engagement. Excitement. Interacting with the fans. It’s about creating a positive customer experience, so they want to come back, regardless of the outcome of the game.

It’s not enough to just put on the costume. I have to have a personality. I have to interact.

Those are things I have never done in public. Not in front of anyone at all. To me, the fact that I’m able to is huge. Even if I’m hiding inside a big furry suit. It’s still me. I’m still doing it. For me, that’s a huge stride forward.

Having a job has allowed me independence. It’s afforded me the ability to have my own place and treat myself from time to time.

I’ve been through a lot of jobs in my short life and so far, this is the only one—and the only company—I’ve found that not only understands and cares about my mental health, they’re willing to work with me and make allowances that allow me to grow. I’m happy here.

Even without Hugo, I’d be happy here.

I’m happier with Hugo being here, though. With this team specifically. With Coach Ajo. It might be a recent discovery, but I mean something to these people. People who I thought never saw me. The reality is maybe they recognize my discomfort and allow me to steer our interactions.

As I make my way to my office and strip out of my suit, I reflect on this. I may be exhausted from a long day and know I have an hour’s drive home, but I wouldn’t trade this for anything.

The night is made even better when Hugo gives me his house key, wanting me to spend the night again. I need to pack a bag for my car with extra clothes. The fact that this is even a necessity has me smiling like a crazy person as I finish for the night after he’s gone to hang out with his friends.

I try very hard not to be jealous. And it’s not exactly his friends I’m jealous of; I’m really glad he has close friends. It’s just, I wish I had some. Or even the ability to make some.

It’s that I know he’s going to a bar where there are girls who will want him. What if he’d rather hook up with one of them than come back to cuddle with me? I can’t even blame him. He’s spent a lot of time with me lately. He must be getting horny.

God, what’s wrong with me? Am I really thinking about Hugo being horny?

Shaking the thoughts out of my head, I eventually leave my office for the night with a wide yawn. I’m just stepping outside into the dark parking lot made bright by a whole lot of lights when my phone pings. I don’t check it until I’m in my car. The parking lot is filled with cameras and security staff are on the clock twenty-fours hours a day, but if someone is desperate, that’s not going to stop them.

The seventies and eighties saw California overrun with serial murderers. Technology to catch them might be better now, but if someone wants to do evil, they will. Being caught isn’t the threat to those people the world thinks it is.

As soon as I’m in my car with the doors locked, I open the message from Hugo. It’s a picture of him and Noah dancing. The lighting is dim and it’s hard to make out a lot of details. There are a few streaks of light, one of which is hitting on the three vultures—I mean women—staring at Hugo just beyond him and Noah. I don’t miss that predatory look at all.

My stomach flips with jealousy and the thought he’s mine screams through my head. It’s a lie. He’s not mine. Not at all. They have a better chance with him than I do.

Yet as I stare at the way they’re looking at him, I know their presence and the way they’re looking at him like that, is the sole reason for my insanity as I type back.

Torin Jonah

I’ll stop in for a minute. On my way .

As soon as I send it, my stomach turns sour. Holy fuck, what did I just do? All over misplaced jealousy? Already my breathing is heavier and my vision blurs a little. This is going to end up with me passed out on the dirty floor. I can already tell.

To be clear—I don’t hate women. I don’t see them as awful people who just want to move into gay spaces and feast on gay men like some people do. I even understand why they encroach on our spaces—the men there aren’t going to hit on them. Ever. They don’t have to be as protective of their drinks for fear of being drugged. They don’t have to worry about being followed out of the place, stalked, or abused. No one gropes them without permission and then gets offended when told no. I totally get it. It doesn’t necessarily make it right—the LGBTQIA+ community in general should be allowed their own spaces—but I understand.

That’s not at all what my jealousy is about. It’s completely regarding Hugo. I’m definitely going to get my heart broken.

PJ’s is super close, I probably could have walked. The drive is less than ten minutes and I’m parked in the parking lot, staring up at the sign as bile rises in my throat, leaving a sour taste in my mouth.

This is a really bad idea. What was I thinking? All over a man who doesn’t want me the same way I want him. He didn’t send me that picture to make me jealous. He was just sharing his night. I know that because I know Hugo enough to know this about him.

I force my feet forward until I’m standing in front of the bouncer. He’s a big guy, though I’d expect nothing less. It only makes sense. He has to be big enough to enforce crowd control and all that.

“Evenin’,” he greets. “ID, please?”

Concentrating on my movements and breathing the clean-ish fresh air, I hand him my driver’s license. He takes a minute to look at it, shining his flashlight on it and tilting it this way and that. Then he hands it back.

“Welcome to PJ’s,” he says and steps aside.

I move forward and stop just inside the door. It’s so damn loud. There are so many bodies! My muscles tense as I stare. I adjust my shirt since it’s become strangely uncomfortable all of a sudden. My hand grips the hem of it as I stare into the horror I’m about to put myself through.

“You okay, man?” the bouncer asks.

Swallowing to try to force down the anxiety, I nod. I rub the back of my neck as I glance back at him. “I’m meeting my friends here,” I say, unsure if he can hear my quiet voice over the noise.

“Yeah?”

I nod. “My team is here somewhere.” He probably doesn’t believe me. I definitely don’t look like a hockey player. Maybe a chess player. This would be an interesting place for a chess club to meet.

“Hockey team?” he asks.

I nod again.

He studies me. “If you walk straight in, about halfway to the back, take a right. They usually sit at a table right around there.”

The tension in my shoulders lessens slightly now that I don’t have to hunt for them. “Thank you.”

He smiles, inclines his head. It still takes me several minutes to convince myself to move inside. During that time, half a dozen people show up and I have to step to the side to let them in. But finally, I catch the tail wind of the last girl who sashayed in and used it as a guiding line.

But the further I walk in, the louder it gets. The darker it gets. I grip my elbow with my arm across my body and try not to look around. Seeing all the people will only make it worse. I concentrate on the girl in front of me, following exactly in her footsteps. Imagining that I’m siphoning some of her confidence.

She veers to the left and I stop abruptly. The bouncer said to the right. Oh god, I internally whine. Taking a right, maybe too soon, I finally let my eyes sweep the area. Thankfully, a group of big hockey players is easy to spot.

“Torin!” Toby calls. Even over the noise, I recognize his voice.

He’s grinning as he waves to me. It makes the entire table look in my direction, but my eyes lock on Hugo’s. He spots me and his smile is beaming. Wide. Excited. He’s happy to see me.

I hurry across the space and stand at the table. “Hi,” I say, trying not to stare at Hugo right now, but take everyone in. I manage. Kind of. But my gaze darts around often, always coming back to Hugo because he’s safe.

Before I can round the table to sit with him, Noah’s off his chair. “Hey, wanna dance?”

My eyes widen.

He grins. “It’s cool if you don’t want to. The only one willing to dance with me is Hugo and I usually lose him quickly to girls.”

“I dance with you!” Toby says indignantly.

“Until Atty gets jealous and steals you away.”

“I don’t get jealous,” Atty argues. “I just get…”

Noah watches him, waiting for an answer.

“Okay fine, but it’s not the bad kind of jealous.”

Noah rolls his eyes and turns back to me. I’m crazy, or sick. I must be absolutely out of my mind because I nod. Noah smiles and grabs my hand. He waves to the table behind him and I glance back, giving Hugo a desperate look. He’s watching me, still smiling, but he gives me a nod. I’m not sure what that means. Telling me I’m safe with Noah? That he understands I’m going to lose my mind here in a minute?

My brain short-circuits as bodies press against me on all sides. I can’t catch my breath. Oh fuck. Oh shit.

Noah finds us a spot and turns me around, pulling me against him. Not flush, but close. The room spins, even as I can’t truly see anything. My body feels like it’s tingling.

Noah’s hands rest on either side of my face, blocking off my peripheral vision and making me look at him. He’s concerned, though I can barely register that.

“You have anxiety around crowds, huh?” he asks.

I nod. Fuck, is it that obvious? What must he think of me?

“I do too. I only last out here for a song or two. Just focus on me, okay?”

“I don’t know how to dance,” I tell him, feeling even more stupid. I’m thankful for the dim lighting because I may just burst into flames with how hot my skin is.

Noah grins. “That’s okay. Just keep looking at me and let me move your body. Okay?”

I nod. His hands rest on my hips. Every time my eyes flicker elsewhere, he guides my attention back to him. It works. I’m still very, very aware of the people around us,but I’m not going to pass out. Noah is crisp and clear. Right in front of me. I can feel him. His hands on me are steady. Strong. They’re keeping me safe.

“How do you do this with anxiety?” I ask.

Noah leans in, bringing me closer. The added sensation of his smell makes me relax a little more. I’m not comfortable at all, but I feel okay. “I know my friends are here, and my boyfriend is here if I hit a wall. Usually it only happens when I’m taken off guard, now. When I’m surrounded by strangers. Otherwise, I have tools to deal with it for moments like this when I want to dance, even knowing I’m going to be surrounded by strangers.”

“What tools? Share them.”

He laughs. “I am. I’m right here. You’re still on your feet. I’m your sole focus and you know you’re safe with me.”

He’s not wrong. I rest my forehead on his shoulder for a minute. “Thanks. I’ve never… gone to a bar before.”

“I can tell,” he says. I hear the smile in his voice. It doesn’t feel judgmental or anything.

A body comes in close, and I tense to the point where my lungs seize. Noah steps back and I find Hugo hovering at our sides. I’m both elated and shaking when he joins us. Noah brings me between them and my skin is melting off. I’m positive about that. Especially when Hugo’s hands land on my hips.

“Just us,” Noah reminds me, probably misinterpreting why I’m suddenly breathing heavily again.

Thankfully, we don’t stay on the dance floor much longer. Noah says his threshold for being surrounded by that many people is short. I’m relieved to the point where I could cry. I’m glad for that experience. Now I can say I danced at the bar. But I don’t ever want to do it again.

I’m even more thankful when Hugo announces he’s ready to leave not ten minutes later. I take that as permission for me to leave too and follow. I’ve never been more thankful for an empty, dark parking lot than I am right now.