“Come shower with me anyway,” Jake says.
“You’re going to be late,” David says.
Jake gives him a look that very plainly points out he doesn’t have to leave for hours.
“Fine,” David says.
The afternoon slips by as quickly as the rest of the trip has gone, nothing David can grasp, hold onto, and before he’s ready for it, it’s time for Jake to go. Well past time, honestly. David would have already been at the airport by now, but Jake doesn’t appear to be worried about missing his flight.
“I would drive you to the airport,” David says. “But—”
Well, there was a reason Jake was always driving David in Toronto.
“It’s cool,” Jake says. “Probably better to say bye here, you know? Can’t kiss you at the airport.”
“That’s true,” David says.
“Hey,” Jake says, cupping his hand around David’s cheek, and David turns his face into it, can’t quite meet Jake’s eye, afraid Jake would see how miserable he is right now, interpret it as —
He can’t look at him.
“We got this,” Jake says, which is a grammatical nightmare, and, David suspects, not true. It was one thing in Toronto, where they spent every day together, even once they returned to New York and Detroit, because they could travel to one another when the distance started to feel like too much.
They’re going to be over a thousand kilometres apart, but it wouldn’t matter if it was only a hundred: between their schedules, the road trips, they would still have a hard time with scheduling. It’s not like they’re going to have a chance to see one another unless it’s for a game, maybe if Jake’s in the area to play the Devils or Rangers while the Islanders are on a home stand.
David couldn’t even manage to get through half of August before he missed Jake so much he literally flew to him. Jake didn’t last much longer before he did the same, which is probably the only reason David didn’t fly out to Detroit again, discomfort with the Lourdes or no. How is a season apart supposed to work?
“Sure,” David says.
“We got this, okay?” Jake says, like he knows David is unconvinced, as if repetition will change David’s mind. When David mutely nods, Jake laces their fingers together, squeezes David’s hand.
That ends up being more convincing than the words themselves, the touch of his skin lingering long after he’s gone, and by the time David stops feeling it, he’s already sent three texts, Let me know when you get home., even though he’s already said that, Hope you have a good flight., like that will have any impact whatsoever on the quality of Jake’s flight, and finally, It was good to see you.
alredy missin u, Jake replies, and David swallows that same feeling from before, puts his phone down before he can respond with a Same., then picks it back up and deletes the message from Jake, because if someone saw it, well —
He doesn’t send anything back, in the end. He doesn’t know what to say.
*
Jake texts him to let him know he got home safely, as requested. He texts him to tell him when he’s leaving for Sunrise. He texts him to tell him he’s landed safely in Sunrise, and then that he’s home, and then that he’s looking forward to training camp, missed his teammates, is David as excited for the season as Jake is?
David doesn’t answer any of them. He wants to, he just can’t. He finishes training. He meets Kurmazov to discuss their goals for their season, how they hope to achieve them. They can’t do it alone, but David will try his best, and he knows Kurmazov will too. He orders a meal service, because he knows from experience he’ll be too tired after training camp to cook. He sets up housekeeping, because it’s harder to stay on top of his apartment during the season. Jake texts him to ask if he’s okay. David looks at it for a while, considering, and doesn’t answer that either.
His phone vibrates while he’s eating dinner, and he ignores it, but after the call runs through, it starts again. It could be Jake, but it could also be Dave, one of his parents. It could be an emergency. He sighs, reaching for it. The incoming call from Jake’s number makes his heart lodge somewhere in his throat, and David presses answer before he can stop himself.
“Hi,” David says.
“You are seriously the worst texter in the world,” Jake says, voice warm despite the words.
“Sorry,” David says. “I’ll work on it.”
“You better,” Jake says. “What if I was dying? What if I sent you a text for help, and you missed it, and then I died? How would you feel then?”
“I’d feel like you probably wasted your time texting me when there was nothing I could do to help from here?” David says.
Jake snorts. “What if I just wanted your voice to be the last thing I heard?”
David goes red, but flustered or not, that makes no sense. “Then you would have called, not texted,” he says.
“Quit being logical when I’m being completely ridiculous, it’s not fair,” Jake says.
“Sorry,” David says. “I guess you’re not dying?”
“I don’t think so?” Jake says. “But I felt like hearing your voice anyway. Make sure you weren’t dead, considering you weren’t answering anything.”
“Sorry,” David says.
“You say sorry way too much for someone who isn’t sorry at all,” Jake says.
“I am sorry,” David argues.
“You apologised for being logical, there is no way you were sorry for that,” Jake says.
“Maybe I was sorry that you were being ridiculous,” David says.
There’s a long pause, and David’s suddenly worried he offended him, that Jake didn’t realise it was a joke, or —
“Jake?” David says.
“You chirped me,” Jake says, sounding delighted about it.
“I can chirp,” David says.
“Yeah, but you don’t,” Jake says. “Killer chirp, Chaps.”
“Thanks,” David says. “Don’t call me— ”
“Yeah, yeah, David,” Jake says. “Tell me about your day.”
“It was boring,” David says.
“Tell me about it anyway,” Jake says, so David does.
David’s phone is almost out of battery by the time Jake hangs up, his face sore from the smile he’s been wearing for the entire conversation.
His phone buzzes in his hand with an inexplicable testing testing from Jake, followed by seein if chaps is gonna b a better texter.
David texts back, Don’t call me Chaps., still smiling, and goes to plug his phone in.
And maybe it’s premature. Maybe it’s foolish. But David thinks — or hopes, maybe, he doesn’t know the difference — that Jake was right about them, atrocious grammar aside. That they might just have this after all.
As solitary an activity writing can be, it is never possible to finish a book without a lot of helping hands.
Thanks, always, to Alison, who is a pillar of strength I lean on. Too hard sometimes, probably. I’m so grateful to have you as a friend.
A huge thank you to Bee Kunesh, who made this book better in every conceivable way.
And to my Kickstarter supporters: Jo, Delilah, Coral Baisch, HazelPar, Phoebe, Ana CM, Rachel McMullan, Kat, L Turner, Sarah Y, Greenleaves-never, and everyone else who helped make this possible. You’re the best.
Copyright © 2020 Taylor Fitzpatrick
Cover design © 2020 by Jenna Lawrence
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
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Coming in First Place (Between the Teeth Book 1) Page 19
