Crack In The Ice - Chapter 15: Chapter 15

A loud bang startles me and I nearly drop my phone.
Chloe stares back at me, her hand set over the condiment holder, incriminating herself. The smile that unfolds on her lips doesn't reach her eyes.
"Oh, hi. Nice of you to notice us. How's Mack?"
I frown. "What?"
Nat shoots me a compassionate smile and Gus raises his eyebrows.
"I assume that's who you're texting," Chloe speaks flatly. "Your friend who ditched us for San Francisco sun and vegan cafes. Instead of paying attention to your other friends, who are here having dinner with you to celebrate one of them getting a cool new job."
I glance back at Nat.
The truth I don't tell my friends is that I haven't even heard from Mack since she texted me saying her plane landed on San Francisco.
I put the phone in my pocket, smiling. "Sorry, Nat. I'm obviously happy for you and your, uh... publicity job?"
Nat smiles. "Close. Digital communication."
She got the interview earlier this month. It was the obvious step since my dad's business covers pretty much the entirety of the local job market. She was obviously hired on the spot, since it's hard to find specific skills from out-of-town talent and everyone knows Nat is good at everything she does. She's starting on the first day of August, in about a week, so we're celebrating now.
"It's kinda nice and kinda weird that we all work for Liam's dad now," Gus muses. "Like a cycle closing. We all knew we'd get here eventually, and now here we are."
"What's that supposed to mean?" I ask.
"We do skate for the Astor Ice Arenas, owned by the Astor Investments Group, owned by your dad," Chloe says.
I had never thought about it like that, and I never want to again.
My phone vibrates in my pocket and I itch to check my messages. But I force myself to focus on my friends for the rest of dinner.
We mostly ask Nat about her job. What's digital communication, exactly? What will she be doing? What's her job title? Did she like the interviewer?
Nat asks us about our skating. Gus is very brief when talking about plans for the future, Chloe evades questions about James, I make inappropriate jokes whenever their weird moods threaten to sour the environment for the evening.
Nat asks me if I do know how Mack's doing. That sours my mood a bit, not quite sure why. That means I'm not in a mood to crack a joke after Nat asks about love life prospects and Gus makes a muttered comment about the lack of 'eligible gays' in town.
"I can't believe you actually won a bronze medal at the 2022 winter Olympics and instead of reveling in your life's success you complain all the time about being single," Chloe huffs.
"Yeah. And I can't believe you have a strong, long-term, loving relationship with someone who's crazy about you and invited you to move in with him, and here you are complaining about your lack of Olympic medal all the time, while still living at home with your parents for some reason. We all want what we can't have," he shoots back.
Chloe rolls her eyes, finishing her glass of wine. I think that was her third. Second? It can't be the fourth, can it?
"Alright, let's all calm down. We were having a perfectly good evening so far," Nat says.
"That's how I can tell you've been living away from home for four years. This is how they are now," I say. "Mack left, so Chloe took up her place bullying Gus, but Gus took her spot as Queen of Meanness."
"I'm not bullying him."
"Don't call me a Queen."
"Come on, guys," Nat pleads. "You said this dinner is for me. I don't want us fighting."
"We're not fighting," Gus grumbles.
"You know what," Chloe says, standing up from the table. "Tonight is about Nat and we should have fun. Let's get the check and move to the bar."
"I kinda wanted to go home after dinner," Gus says.
"Then go. We're staying," Chloe says.
"Does the 'we' include me?" I ask.
"Yes," Chloe says, moving to stand up.
Nat gives me a look. "I guess one drink can't hurt."
And she's right. One drink wouldn't have hurt, but Chloe gets three. Nat arches her eyebrows as she finishes the third martini and asks Scarlet, the bartender, for another.
"Don't worry," Chloe says, words slurring a little already. "It's on Liam's tab."
"Is it?" I ask.
"I can't afford half a bottle of wine and four martinis myself," she says.
"Maybe we should stick with the three martinis," Nat muses. And I'm glad she says it so I don't have to.
Scarlet looks at us for a couple of seconds, waiting instructions.
"Bring me my drink, please," Chloe says. But it comes out as a petulant whine.
"No, I think you're done," I say, then look at Scarlet. "Leave it on my tab but don't serve us any more."
She smiles prettily, before walking away.
"I don't remember her being a heavy drinker before I moved out," Nat whispers to me, pointedly.
I roll my eyes. "She's still not." I look at Chloe, leaning over the bar counter, eyes droopy. "Fucking light-weight."
"Should we take her home?" Nat asks.
"Sure. Will you explain her state to Mr and Mrs Wong, or shall I?"
Nat nods, understanding.
I sigh. "I'll take her upstairs to my room. Make her drink some water before falling asleep."
"And you'll be fine?" Nat asks.
"Yeah, don't worry. Sorry your night had a weird ending."
She waves it off. "I'm home now. We'll have other nights. Want some help taking her up?"
"I'm good. Thanks."
Chloe is barely a hundred pounds. I spend most of my days lifting her over my head, so taking her up to my room is easy. Which doesn't make it pleasant, mind you.
"What is it with you and drinking these days?" I ask my skating partner, laying her down on my bed. "Do I need to be worried about you?"
"Nhm," she says.
Eloquent as ever.
I go into the bathroom to fill up a glass of water. She shakes her head, sinking her face in my pillow. "No water."
"Yes water." I help her sit up on my bed and watch her drink the whole glass before refilling it. "You better be done with that too when I come back."
I leave her on my bed as I step outside. The late July night air is warm enough to bear without a jacket. I get my phone, pulling out the conversation I interrupted during dinner.
I smile. Typical Eli. Not a definite yes, nor a definite no.
He picks up the phone almost instantly.
"Hey," I whisper.
"Hey," he replies. "Why are you whispering?"
"Chloe's in my room. She got drunk after dinner."
"Chloe got drunk?"
"Yeah, I know. She does that now. She's a full-fledged rebel these days. I'll be signing her up for AA meetings in no time."
"Don't think the Brunson-Lake City area has meetings."
"Maybe at the church."
"No. Closest you get is Moscow. I googled it."
"Why were you googling AA meetings?"
There's a pause.
"Did you have fun tonight?"
"Sort of. It's nice that it's not just Chloe, Gus and me anymore, but..." I don't finish that sentence.
"But?"
"It was a weird night."
"Why?"
"Chloe was being weird with the drinking. Gus was being mopey. But I guess neither of those were firsts."
"Why was Gus mopey?"
"Bittered by the lack of gays?"
"Must be tough."
I frown. "What is?"
"Being out and proud in Lake City," he says evenly, like he's trying to pick the right words.
"I'm out and proud in Lake City," I point out.
"Right," he says. "Except it's really not the same thing at all, is it?"
"What do you mean?"
I hear him breathe in through the phone line.
"When I lived there, I was never bothered by the... lack of gays, as you put it. Because I always assumed I'd be alone. Because... you know. But Gus is fully out and kind of alone, not by choice. It must be lonely. Not having anyone like him. That he knows of."
"Yeah, I guess. I think I never really thought about that."
"Really?"
"Well, I have plenty of... compatible partners." And yet the irony of the fact that the only one I want is not here is not lost on me. "I don't think I ever thought of Gus as alone. He has us."
"That's different."
"He gets out of town a lot for competitions. He's an ice dancer. I'm pretty sure the stats on that demographic are on his side."
"Speaking from experience?"
I smile. "Maybe."
Not at all, to be honest. I've never hooked up with anyone at a competition, but I can't help the thrilling flutter in my chest every time I hear that edge of jealousy in Eli's tone at the implication of other people. Even if he never does take my bait.
"Is Chloe there with you now?"
"She's inside, passing out on my bed. I'm outside. Next to the hot tub." I lick my lips, smiling to myself. "Remember this hot tub?"
"Mh."
"I mean... If you don't, I could try to refresh your memory."
"I remember." His voice sounds a little raucous. It does... things to me.
"You do?"
"Yes."
"You were pretty drunk that night," I muse.
"I was more... emotionally altered than intoxicated, to be honest."
That's new information. I always had this tainted filter over my memories of that night - our first night - for not knowing for sure just how drunk he was. How clearly he remembered it. How sane he was in the moment.
I gulp. "I think about that night sometimes."
"Yeah."
"Got mixed feelings about it still," I say.
"I don't."
That surprises me. The certainty in his tone above all.
I'm even more surprised when I can't think of anything to say to that. We're silent for a moment, just listening to each other breathe on opposites sides of the line.
The moment is broken when Chloe calls my name loudly, but a little shakily. I look back to see her leaning over the bed, looking a little green.
"Shit. I gotta go. Chloe's about to puke on my floor."