Fic: Fake boyfriends on Route 80 (Figure Skating RPF, Alex/Adam) PG-13
I picked Alex Shibutani and Adam Rippon for my figure skating OTP at random during the dark days of Four Continents 2011, when they roomed together. And then Adam started showing up in every one of the Shibutanis' adorable videos and that only added fuel to my 'shipping fire. *mutters* So I wrote this story and I hope you enjoy it. *slopes away*
Title: Fake boyfriends on Route 80
Author: iridescentglow
Fandom: Figure Skating RPF
Pairing: Alex Shibutani/Adam Rippon
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 4,570
Archived: AO3
Summary: Alex, Adam and Maia take a road trip.
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Fake boyfriends on Route 80
When Maia’s laughter reached a particular pitch, Alex’s irritation shifted up a gear. He gritted his teeth and ground his foot onto the gas pedal. He turned up the radio, but it couldn’t drown out the moronic conversation that was taking place in the backseat.
“But, beloved, if the bluebells aren’t out when we wed, there will be doom in the village!” Adam announced grandly in a ‘British’ accent that sounded suspiciously Australian.
In between shrieks of laughter, Maia managed to answer, “Doom from the great Parsniffilous monster!”
“Yes, the Parsniffilous monster is entirely governed by the bluebells,” Adam said, hiccupping with laughter. “Don’t you remember the year they didn’t bloom? Such horror in the village!”
“Oh, the village!” they yelled together and collapsed into fits of laughter.
Alex loved his sister. He even liked her most of the time, which he knew was a rarity among siblings. But, right at this moment, he would have liked to throw her out the car window. For the last two hours, Maia and Adam had been acting out a wildly complicated scene involving a medieval village in Britain and, yes, a monster called Parsniffilous. The two of them were so far into the bit that they didn’t seem to notice that it had (a) stopped making sense and (b) stopped being funny.
Alex, meanwhile, had been driving for six hours straight and felt ready to sacrifice himself to the Parsniffilous monster. This road trip had been a terrible idea - worst of all, it had been his terrible idea.
The three of them had had so much fun driving to Sun Valley the summer before that he’d suggested a repeat road trip. This road trip would be supersized: they’d rented a car and planned to drive all the way from Sun Valley (where they’d skated in a show), back to Michigan. Adam then planned to carry on driving and see his family in Pennsylvania. What Alex hadn’t factored in was the fact that spending three days on the road was a little different to spending five hours on the road.
Alex quelled a teenage urge to turn around in his seat and start screaming at Maia. Instead, he said, “Hey guys, I’m pulling over. I gotta sleep. Someone else can drive.”
“Let’s just stop somewhere,” Adam said. His voice was still warm with laugher, although, mercifully, his British/Australian accent seemed to have disappeared. He leaned forward in his seat and placed a hand on Alex’s shoulder.
“We were gonna wait till we got to the next city,” Maia pointed out.
“What, because there’ll be so much to see in Davenport, Iowa?” Adam asked archly. “Come on, nowhere motels are always hilarious. Maybe we’ll get Norman Bates’ed.”
Adam rubbed a slow circle against Alex’s shoulder blade and then pulled his hand away.
*
The motel, as it turned out, was just a motel. Not a Norman Bates hotel. Not a secret hideaway for a passionate rendezvous. Just a slab block complex with a view of the highway. They got two rooms: boys and girls. Well, boys and girl.
In the corridor outside their rooms, Adam and Maia continued their bit.
“Goodnight, my beloved betrothed,” Adam said, bowing ostentatiously to kiss Maia’s hand.
“Goodnight, my sun, my moon, my squelchy spaghetti,” Maia replied. She fluttered a hand against her breast and twirled into the doorway of her room.
Alex rolled his eyes and unlocked the door to the room next door. This road trip had, absolutely, unequivocally, been a terrible idea.
Once he and Adam were inside their room, Adam continued to talk in his plummy comic accent, oblivious to the fact that Maia was gone.
“I think we should have a June wedding,” he mused. “Maia will look sensational with bluebells in her hair.”
“I think no one should have to marry you,” Alex said sourly. “You’d make a terrible fake husband.”
Alex dumped his suitcase on the floor and kicked off his shoes. He sat down on the end of one of the beds, while Adam roamed the room. Adam was still gesturing like he was talking to an audience.
“Ouch,” said Adam. “I’m wounded. You can’t tear me and Maia apart. I’ll marry her and be Adam Shibutani, you mark my words.”
“She’d be Maia Rippon, dumbass.”
Adam waved his hand airily. “No, we’d probably do something really modern, like a mash-up of both our last names.” He paused and thought for a moment. “Ributani!”
“That sounds like the name of a cocktail,” Alex said with a snort. “Or a condom.”
“Maybe both. There’s a business idea for you,” Adam said with a coy smile.
Over the course of the conversation, Adam had ceased his restless pacing and drawn closer to where Alex sat. His voice had dropped gradually, and now his eyes came to rest on Alex with intent. Adam stepped into the space between Alex’s legs. Lightly, he placed a hand on Alex’s shoulder.
“Ributani’s cocktails,” Adam continued. “They come with a condom on the side. Come. Ha.”
Alex smiled - his first smile since somewhere before Omaha, somewhere before the first mention of the Parsniffilous monster.
Arching upward, Alex caught Adam’s lips in a kiss. They kissed for a long moment and it felt sweeter for being an amalgamation of all the times they hadn’t kissed since leaving Sun Valley. Alex thought abstractly that, overlaid on this moment, were all the possible moments when they could have kissed but had held back.
Then Alex stopped thinking, because Adam pushed him onto the bed and climbed on top of him.
This road trip had, absolutely, unequivocally, been a great idea.
*
Alex and Adam’s relationship worked like this: Adam was his fake boyfriend. His part-time boyfriend. The boyfriend equivalent of a kayak you kept in storage for most of the year.
Their pseudo-relationship started years ago, back when Alex still skated singles. For a time, the two of them shared the ice at competitions held in falling-down rinks in Nowheresville and Nothingtown, the stands half-filled by other people’s parents. Alex skated competently and the spectators clapped politely. Adam, all of 13, skated like he was in the Bolshoi and the spectators’ hearts broke at the unexpected joy of it all.
As their competitions overlapped more and more, it seemed sensible to start rooming together. One night - in Poughkeepsie or Trenton or Des Moines - as the two of them lay in separate beds in a dark motel room, Adam said distinctly, “I think I’d like to kiss someone.”
He didn’t say, “I think I’d like to kiss you,” which would have been not-okay. He said, “I think I’d like to kiss someone.” Alex realized he could cope with being a someone; being a cipher. It made the whole thing less real. It made it okay that his first kiss was going to be not with a girl (as he’d assumed, but perhaps not always imagined,) but with a boy.
They didn’t kiss that night, but weeks later, at a different competition in a different nowhere town. In a deserted parking lot adjacent to the rink, their lips met tentatively. It was the first day of the year that conceivably felt like Spring, and a hint of sunshine warmed their skin. Alex and Adam kissed with open mouths and tried to figure out if it was worth all of the fuss.
As they kissed, Alex couldn’t work out where on Adam’s body to put his hands. His fingertips skidded across the smooth satin of Adam’s costume, unable to get a grip. Finally, he grasped a handful of sequinned material roughly and tugged Adam’s body closer. Later that day, when Alex watched Adam compete, he saw the slight damage he’d done to his costume and felt a perverse sense of pride. Even now, in fleeting moments, he remembers the warmth of winter sun and the feel of rough sequins when he looks at Adam.
The kiss never turned into anything real, of course. They didn’t live in the same town. They didn’t have much in common besides skating. Adam wasn’t even the right gender. Anyway, as Alex was quick to tell anyone who asked, he was too busy for a relationship. Maybe after the Olympics, he would have time. Then he would be able to turn his flirtation with Julie-from-Econ-379 into something more substantial. It was the Julies of this world - bright-eyed and serious, with shiny hair and business school plans - that Alex was truly interested in. With Adam, things were just pretend.
He and Adam hooked up a few times a year, when fate or the ISU threw them together. At shows or competitions - in better rinks now, with bigger crowds - they role-played being in love. They shared secretive smiles at practices and rendezvous’ed in the locker room, where Adam gave artful, humming blow jobs. The ones Alex gave in return were less practiced, but Adam responded with an enthusiasm that made him glow.
It was a relationship without the boring parts; without the arguments and the compromises. In their shared hotel rooms, they talked about books and movies. And, as their voices grew softer and the nights grew longer, they talked about other things, too. They shared the things they didn’t tell other people; the secrets and anxieties they buried deep inside. It was a relief for Alex to unburden himself.
Yet, in truth, it was a relief that he didn’t have to do it all the time. He didn’t have to be sensitive and vulnerable and affectionate full-time. He didn’t have to worry that Adam would reject him. Because none of it was real. Not really real.
Alex’s real self was in Michigan, where he was mostly-straight and mostly-carefree. Adam had a whole other life in California, too - stupid-sounding affairs with dumb guys he met at the gym or at the meat counter in Whole Foods. Adam talked about those short-lived relationships sometimes and Alex rolled his eyes as if he was bored by the stories and not envious.
Then the show would close its doors, the competition would end, and they stopped pretending to be boyfriends. They each went home. Adam went back to his over-complicated, melodramatic love life. And Alex went back to being not gay.
*
At breakfast the next morning, Adam and Alex held hands under the table, their knees knocking together pleasantly. The motel’s dining room was shabby and the spread of baked goods looked dusty. Alex didn’t care, though. Having real food - sugar-laden, fat-filled food - for breakfast was a luxury he wouldn’t get to enjoy when training resumed. Calories buzzed through his veins and the memory of sex warmed his bones. If happiness was measured by base contentment, Alex couldn’t remember being happier.
Adam’s phone buzzed and he withdrew his hand from Alex’s grasp to take the call.
“Good morning, beloved,” he said into the phone, his British/Australian accent resurfacing. He paused to listen to the response. “Yes, we are eating all the finest porcupine and mudrat delicacies. You’ll find the decadent banquet hall past the dumpsters. Please, join us post-haste.”
Adam laughed hard at whatever Maia’s reply was. Then he said, “See you in a smidge, my ravishing damsel.”
“Maia’s on her way,” Adam told Alex with a smile. However, Alex noticed that he didn’t reach for Alex’s hand again.
“You shouldn’t lead her on,” Alex said.
“What?”
Alex already regretted saying it, but somehow he couldn’t stop himself from repeating it.
“Maia. You’re always leading her on.”
Adam laughed. “I am not.”
“You flirt,” Alex said. He could hear the obnoxious, obstinate tone in his voice, but he still couldn’t make himself stop. “All the time. But of course you don’t mean it.”
“Of course I mean it.” Adam’s tone, by contrast, was still light. “She’s gorgeous.”
Alex rolled his eyes. “But she doesn’t get that it’s not for real. She’s… y’know. Naïve.”
“She’s eighteen, not eight.” A crackle of irritation finally appeared in Adam’s voice, but then he paused and laughed. “She’s… not that in-no-cent,” he sang. “She has a boyfriend.”
Later, Alex would realize that Adam was giving him an out. Adam was prepared to forgive his foolish jealousy. At that moment, Alex could have reached for Adam’s hand and chosen to change the subject. But Adam’s last comment rankled too much for him to do anything of the sort.
“She doesn’t have a boyfriend,” Alex said contemptuously. “I think I’d know.”
“Right,” said Adam. “So I’m a liar and you know absolutely everything about everything.”
*
Adam ignored Alex for the rest of the morning. The remainder of breakfast - with Maia in the middle saying, “What is up with the two of you?” - was excruciating. Afterward, they headed back to their rooms to gather their stuff. Maia said she needed to wash her hair, which meant half an hour for Alex and Adam to kill before they could leave.
Half an hour would have been enough time to have sex. Alex was painfully aware of that fact. Instead, when they returned to their room, Adam pointedly got out his Kindle and began to read. Even just looking at Adam - his mouth fixed in a straight line, one leg folded up beneath him as he sat and read - made Alex’s cock twitch. Finally, he had to go into the bathroom and jerk off - angrily - under the pretence of taking a shower.
Alex didn’t know how it was possible to feel so shitty so soon after feeling so happy. He and Adam didn’t fight. That was the whole point of being part-time boyfriends. They didn’t spend enough time together to piss each other off.
When they left the motel and got back in the car, Adam announced that he wanted to sleep. He stretched out across the back seat, leaving Alex and Maia to sit in front. Maia put the car in drive and pulled out of the motel’s parking lot.
For a long time, the only sound was the radio, playing quietly. The station was Maia’s choice. Mellow indie-pop. Sunny day music.
Finally, after twenty minutes of twee hipster love songs, Alex reached over and stabbed at the radio’s buttons. He blitzed through all the stations on offer and, when none of them suited him, he started the process again.
Maia reached over and swatted his hand away from the radio dials.
“Stop it,” she said. “Maniac. You’ve been acting so weird this whole trip.”
Alex ignored her, but he did stop messing with the radio. They’d landed on a country music station, but suddenly he found he didn’t care. He stared blankly out the car window, thinking about math.
“This was your idea, remember?” Maia sniped at him. “We could have just taken a flight.”
Alex ignored her.
“Did you two have a lovers’ spat or something?” she asked, irritated.
“A-what? What does that mean? We don’t even. Why would say that?”
Alex tried to laugh, like it was the craziest thing he’d heard all year. He glanced in the rear-view mirror. Adam was asleep on the back seat, angelic as a child.
“You are the worst liar in the world,” said Maia. “I remember when we were in Korea and there was that party. When Mom caught us sneaking out of the hotel, you said we were going to do laundry. At eleven at night. And that in Korea it’s the custom to dress up to do laundry. So that’s why we looked the way he did.”
Alex was momentarily distracted by an old wound.
“Mom almost believed that,” he said.
“Right,” said Maia with a laugh.
Alex cast around for something to throw at Maia.
“Adam said you have a boyfriend. Mom know about that?”
“I don’t have a boyfriend,” Maia said, sounding completely unruffled. “Steven Chang would like to be my boyfriend, but I’m concentrating on my training right now, so there’s nothing going on.”
She paused and cast a sidelong look at Alex.
“See,” she said, “now that was a good lie. Plausible, with enough truth to be convincing.”
“So you do have a boyfriend!”
“Oh, well done,” Maia said, rolling her eyes. “You’ve discovered my shocking secret.”
“I can’t believe you kept it from me,” said Alex.
“Are we really playing that game? When your secret boyfriend of eight years is asleep in the back?”
Alex glanced in the rear-view mirror again. A lock of blond hair - a perfect curl - lay across Adam’s forehead as he slept.
“He’s not my boyfriend.”
“Yeah, but you’d like him to be. That’s why you’ve been such a prissy little”-she mouthed the word bitch-“every time he’s paid any attention to me on this trip.”
“You don’t understand at all,” Alex said. He reached over to the radio and turned up the country music station.
“God, you’re annoying,” Maia said, raising her voice to be heard over the radio. “It can’t be that complicated. Is this wussy, coming-out stuff? You know no one cares if you’re gay, right? No one at the rink cares. No one at college cares.”
“Mom and Dad-”
“Mom and Dad don’t care. Not really. They might be upset for, like, five minutes. But I don’t think they’ll fall down dead of surprise.”
Alex was agitated now. “What, because it’s so predictable? And you knew it all along? I’m not even sure I am gay. I’m seeing someone. This girl in my Econ class.”
“Well, good for you,” said Maia. “But I suggest you break up with her, since you’re obviously in love with Adam.”
“What? I’m not in love with-It’s not like that at all.”
“You’re a terrible liar,” she said.
Maia sighed like she was bored with the conversation. She turned the radio back to its original station and began to sing along quietly to the song that was playing.
Alex slumped down in his seat, stewing in Maia’s words. He glanced in the rear view mirror once more. With a start, he saw that Adam’s eyes were open.
*
How much Adam overheard of Alex’s conversation with Maia, Alex didn’t know. He might have heard everything. He might have heard nothing. Either way, there was no big scene afterward. Adam didn’t confront Alex and Alex didn’t confront Adam. When they finally reached Michigan and went their separate ways, they hugged goodbye warmly.
But Alex sensed that it was the end of being fake boyfriends.
Later, Alex really did break up with Julie-from-Econ-379. They went out for their semi-regular post-class cup of coffee and he said he was really sorry but he didn’t think he could see her any more. She looked confused more than upset. Days later, he found out through the grapevine that Julie actually had a long-term, long-distance boyfriend and that - maybeperhaps - their post-class cups of coffee had just been post-class cups of coffee and not the pre-dating ritual Alex had imagined. So that was embarrassing. But Alex was glad to end the charade that Julie was someone he was actually interested in.
Later still, Maia mentioned that Adam had broken up with Marco.
(“Who’s Marco?” asked Alex.
“You know, the one from Whole Foods. Meat counter guy.”
“Right.”)
Alex knew that Maia and Adam texted constantly, which was presumably how she found out about his relationship status. By contrast, Alex and Adam barely texted at all. They never had done. It was part of the whole part-time boyfriend thing.
After hearing of the demise of Marco, Alex spent a week building up the courage to text Adam. He tapped out hundreds of different greetings and didn’t send any of them. Because it was all electronic, Alex didn’t even have the satisfaction of screwing up a page of notepaper and throwing it in the trash each time he deleted a message.
Finally, at two a.m., early one random Tuesday, Alex sent Adam a message.
Alex @ 02:12
174 days. That’s how much time we’ve spent together. Since we kissed that first time.
Alex wasn’t expecting a response till morning, so he jumped when the phone beeped in his hand. He realized his heart was racing as he opened up Adam’s reply.
Adam @ 02:14
Uh, thanks for the math. :)
Before he could overthink it, Alex made himself reply.
Alex @ 02:17
174 days. That’s a long time. That’s longer than I’ve ever been able to keep a pot plant alive. So. You > pot plant, basically.
The moment Alex pressed ‘Send’, he regretted it. You > pot plant? That’s what he’d sent?? In the dictionary under the heading ‘moron’, there had to be a picture of Alex Shibutani. Holding a dead pot plant, probably.
However, Adam’s reply came quickly.
Adam @ 02:19
Ha. Does this have anything to do with you being in love with me? I seem to remember overhearing something like that…
Alex’s heart wouldn’t stop racing.
Alex @ 02:20
You were asleep.
Adam @ 02:22
So I dreamed it all, huh? Tell me how much more of those 174 days I dreamed. ;)
Alex swallowed hard. His fingers shook a little as they skidded across the keypad.
Alex @ 02:23
I’m thinking of coming to Cali for a visit.
Adam @ 02:25
You need to think less. Do more.
*
The next Sunday, Alex arrived early for Family Dinner at his parents’ house, which made everyone suspicious.
Trying to be helpful, he laid out napkins and silverware on the table. (His mom, trailing in his wake, reset each place after he was done.) In the kitchen, he chopped vegetables haphazardly. (His dad looked alarmed and took the knife out of his hands.) He switched to the stove, where he poked at the rice with a spatula. (His mom sighed and told him to go sit down.)
Maia arrived moments later. Unfurling her scarf and shaking out her hair, she gave Alex a side-eye.
“Why are you here early?” he asked him and then raised her voice, calling through to the kitchen: “Why is Alex here early?”
“He’s been helping,” Dad called back. (Alex chose to ignore the note of sarcasm in his dad’s voice.)
“Helping…” Maia repeated, taking a seat next to Alex at the dinner table. “You know, Marina gave me a long lecture about work ethic today. Because you booked five days out of the rink. Why am I getting the Russian death glare when it’s you canceling a week’s training?”
“First of all,” replied Alex, “five days is not a week. Second of all, one of those days is a Saturday, so it’s really like four and a half days. Look, dinner’s ready!” he finished hurriedly as their parents entered the room.
Alex set to work demolishing his meal, ignoring Maia’s repeated attempts to catch his eye.
“Tell us something interesting that happened to you this week,” Mom said brightly, looking from Alex to Maia and back again.
“Well,” Maia spoke up immediately, “I’m really interested in why Alex is taking a week’s vacation at the start of the season.” She gave a sweet smile and stabbed at her broccoli.
Mom frowned. “Alex…?”
“I’m really interested in Maia’s boyfriend who she hasn’t told us anything about,” Alex said loudly.
Mom’s frown deepened. “Maia…?”
“I don’t have a boyfriend,” Maia said, with another oh-so-sweet smile. “Steven Chang would like to be my boyfriend. But I’m concentrating on-“
“He is her boyfriend,” Alex cut in. “You should probably invite him for dinner. But not next week because I’m out of town.” He shovelled a forkful of carrots into his mouth.
“Where are you going?” asked Dad, looking slightly bewildered.
“California,” Alex said, his mouth still full of carrots. “To visit Adam. Rippon. Who is my boyfriend.”
Alex kept chewing and waited for the words to sink in. Chew, chew, chew. A moment ago, he’d been straight Alex eating carrots. Now he was gay Alex eating carrots. As he glanced from his mom to his dad, Alex could almost see himself changing before his parents’ eyes. Their impressions of him. Their expectations of him. Their feelings about him…? Seeing the change in his parents’ eyes came with a sensation like falling. Alex swallowed his mouthful of carrots and waited to hit the ground.
“That-” Mom said finally. “That’s a lot of information to digest.”
The silence that followed was excruciating.
Mechanically, his mom reached up to dab at her mouth using her napkin. Then she lowered her napkin and smoothed it back over her lap. She began to speak in clipped, no-nonsense terms.
“Starting when Alex returns,” she said, “we will be scheduling dinners. Maia, please give me a number for this Steven Chang.”
Alex glanced at Maia, who looked appalled.
“Why do I have to go first?” asked Maia.
“Because we already know Adam,” said Mom. “We like Adam.”
Mom cast a firm look at Dad, who stirred in his chair and then began to nod, only slightly reluctantly.
“Yes, we like Adam,” Dad said quietly.
Alex’s dad met his eyes and gave him a small smile. Like the rest of his expression, it seemed tense, but it was a smile and it was there.
Alex felt like he could breathe for the first time in five minutes. In fact, breathing felt easier than it had done in years.
*
A week later, Adam greeted Alex off the plane with a one-armed hug and a guarded smile.
The airport was more like an airstrip with an oversize storage container for a terminal. Alex shouldered his backpack and the two of them weaved through the crowd of families and tourists, heading for the outside world. Stepping out into the sunshine after hours in a sardine can of an airplane felt ridiculously good. Hot air enveloped him as the automatic doors whooshed open.
“So you should probably let me know,” Adam said archly. “If this visit is for bro-tastic hangs. Or if it’s for something else.”
“I don’t think I’d ever use the word bro-tastic…” said Alex.
They began the walk across the parking lot, toward Adam’s car. In arranging the trip, Adam had said Alex could “crash” at his apartment and sleep “wherever” during the five days Alex would spend in California.
Five days. Five days was a lot. Five days was more time than they’d ever spent together consecutively. Five days wasn’t part-time boyfriend. Five days couldn’t be faked. Five days was enough time to get on each other’s nerves. Enough time to fight. Enough time to make up?
“I thought all straight guys said bro-tastic,” countered Adam. “I thought it was a requirement.”
“…Would it be bro-tastic to kiss you?”
Adam took an exaggerated look around them.
“This looks remarkably like a public place…”
“Maybe I don’t care,” said Alex.
(Maybe he did still care. A little. But he was trying hard not to care.)
They kissed at the edge of the parking lot. In the sunshine and the hot air. And, as Alex tugged Adam closer, he remembered the texture of rough sequins and the thrill of a first kiss.
“My parents want you to come to dinner,” Alex slipped into the breathless pause between kisses.
“Like. Arranging-the-dowry dinner?” Adam asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Something like that.”
Adam perked up; he was already preening in anticipation.
“I will be the most charming boyfriend you ever brought home,” he said.
“You’ll be the only boyfriend I’ve ever brought home,” Alex said with a snort.
“Well, let’s hope it stays that way,” Adam said and drew him into another kiss.
Title: Fake boyfriends on Route 80
Author: iridescentglow
Fandom: Figure Skating RPF
Pairing: Alex Shibutani/Adam Rippon
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 4,570
Archived: AO3
Summary: Alex, Adam and Maia take a road trip.
-----
Fake boyfriends on Route 80
When Maia’s laughter reached a particular pitch, Alex’s irritation shifted up a gear. He gritted his teeth and ground his foot onto the gas pedal. He turned up the radio, but it couldn’t drown out the moronic conversation that was taking place in the backseat.
“But, beloved, if the bluebells aren’t out when we wed, there will be doom in the village!” Adam announced grandly in a ‘British’ accent that sounded suspiciously Australian.
In between shrieks of laughter, Maia managed to answer, “Doom from the great Parsniffilous monster!”
“Yes, the Parsniffilous monster is entirely governed by the bluebells,” Adam said, hiccupping with laughter. “Don’t you remember the year they didn’t bloom? Such horror in the village!”
“Oh, the village!” they yelled together and collapsed into fits of laughter.
Alex loved his sister. He even liked her most of the time, which he knew was a rarity among siblings. But, right at this moment, he would have liked to throw her out the car window. For the last two hours, Maia and Adam had been acting out a wildly complicated scene involving a medieval village in Britain and, yes, a monster called Parsniffilous. The two of them were so far into the bit that they didn’t seem to notice that it had (a) stopped making sense and (b) stopped being funny.
Alex, meanwhile, had been driving for six hours straight and felt ready to sacrifice himself to the Parsniffilous monster. This road trip had been a terrible idea - worst of all, it had been his terrible idea.
The three of them had had so much fun driving to Sun Valley the summer before that he’d suggested a repeat road trip. This road trip would be supersized: they’d rented a car and planned to drive all the way from Sun Valley (where they’d skated in a show), back to Michigan. Adam then planned to carry on driving and see his family in Pennsylvania. What Alex hadn’t factored in was the fact that spending three days on the road was a little different to spending five hours on the road.
Alex quelled a teenage urge to turn around in his seat and start screaming at Maia. Instead, he said, “Hey guys, I’m pulling over. I gotta sleep. Someone else can drive.”
“Let’s just stop somewhere,” Adam said. His voice was still warm with laugher, although, mercifully, his British/Australian accent seemed to have disappeared. He leaned forward in his seat and placed a hand on Alex’s shoulder.
“We were gonna wait till we got to the next city,” Maia pointed out.
“What, because there’ll be so much to see in Davenport, Iowa?” Adam asked archly. “Come on, nowhere motels are always hilarious. Maybe we’ll get Norman Bates’ed.”
Adam rubbed a slow circle against Alex’s shoulder blade and then pulled his hand away.
*
The motel, as it turned out, was just a motel. Not a Norman Bates hotel. Not a secret hideaway for a passionate rendezvous. Just a slab block complex with a view of the highway. They got two rooms: boys and girls. Well, boys and girl.
In the corridor outside their rooms, Adam and Maia continued their bit.
“Goodnight, my beloved betrothed,” Adam said, bowing ostentatiously to kiss Maia’s hand.
“Goodnight, my sun, my moon, my squelchy spaghetti,” Maia replied. She fluttered a hand against her breast and twirled into the doorway of her room.
Alex rolled his eyes and unlocked the door to the room next door. This road trip had, absolutely, unequivocally, been a terrible idea.
Once he and Adam were inside their room, Adam continued to talk in his plummy comic accent, oblivious to the fact that Maia was gone.
“I think we should have a June wedding,” he mused. “Maia will look sensational with bluebells in her hair.”
“I think no one should have to marry you,” Alex said sourly. “You’d make a terrible fake husband.”
Alex dumped his suitcase on the floor and kicked off his shoes. He sat down on the end of one of the beds, while Adam roamed the room. Adam was still gesturing like he was talking to an audience.
“Ouch,” said Adam. “I’m wounded. You can’t tear me and Maia apart. I’ll marry her and be Adam Shibutani, you mark my words.”
“She’d be Maia Rippon, dumbass.”
Adam waved his hand airily. “No, we’d probably do something really modern, like a mash-up of both our last names.” He paused and thought for a moment. “Ributani!”
“That sounds like the name of a cocktail,” Alex said with a snort. “Or a condom.”
“Maybe both. There’s a business idea for you,” Adam said with a coy smile.
Over the course of the conversation, Adam had ceased his restless pacing and drawn closer to where Alex sat. His voice had dropped gradually, and now his eyes came to rest on Alex with intent. Adam stepped into the space between Alex’s legs. Lightly, he placed a hand on Alex’s shoulder.
“Ributani’s cocktails,” Adam continued. “They come with a condom on the side. Come. Ha.”
Alex smiled - his first smile since somewhere before Omaha, somewhere before the first mention of the Parsniffilous monster.
Arching upward, Alex caught Adam’s lips in a kiss. They kissed for a long moment and it felt sweeter for being an amalgamation of all the times they hadn’t kissed since leaving Sun Valley. Alex thought abstractly that, overlaid on this moment, were all the possible moments when they could have kissed but had held back.
Then Alex stopped thinking, because Adam pushed him onto the bed and climbed on top of him.
This road trip had, absolutely, unequivocally, been a great idea.
*
Alex and Adam’s relationship worked like this: Adam was his fake boyfriend. His part-time boyfriend. The boyfriend equivalent of a kayak you kept in storage for most of the year.
Their pseudo-relationship started years ago, back when Alex still skated singles. For a time, the two of them shared the ice at competitions held in falling-down rinks in Nowheresville and Nothingtown, the stands half-filled by other people’s parents. Alex skated competently and the spectators clapped politely. Adam, all of 13, skated like he was in the Bolshoi and the spectators’ hearts broke at the unexpected joy of it all.
As their competitions overlapped more and more, it seemed sensible to start rooming together. One night - in Poughkeepsie or Trenton or Des Moines - as the two of them lay in separate beds in a dark motel room, Adam said distinctly, “I think I’d like to kiss someone.”
He didn’t say, “I think I’d like to kiss you,” which would have been not-okay. He said, “I think I’d like to kiss someone.” Alex realized he could cope with being a someone; being a cipher. It made the whole thing less real. It made it okay that his first kiss was going to be not with a girl (as he’d assumed, but perhaps not always imagined,) but with a boy.
They didn’t kiss that night, but weeks later, at a different competition in a different nowhere town. In a deserted parking lot adjacent to the rink, their lips met tentatively. It was the first day of the year that conceivably felt like Spring, and a hint of sunshine warmed their skin. Alex and Adam kissed with open mouths and tried to figure out if it was worth all of the fuss.
As they kissed, Alex couldn’t work out where on Adam’s body to put his hands. His fingertips skidded across the smooth satin of Adam’s costume, unable to get a grip. Finally, he grasped a handful of sequinned material roughly and tugged Adam’s body closer. Later that day, when Alex watched Adam compete, he saw the slight damage he’d done to his costume and felt a perverse sense of pride. Even now, in fleeting moments, he remembers the warmth of winter sun and the feel of rough sequins when he looks at Adam.
The kiss never turned into anything real, of course. They didn’t live in the same town. They didn’t have much in common besides skating. Adam wasn’t even the right gender. Anyway, as Alex was quick to tell anyone who asked, he was too busy for a relationship. Maybe after the Olympics, he would have time. Then he would be able to turn his flirtation with Julie-from-Econ-379 into something more substantial. It was the Julies of this world - bright-eyed and serious, with shiny hair and business school plans - that Alex was truly interested in. With Adam, things were just pretend.
He and Adam hooked up a few times a year, when fate or the ISU threw them together. At shows or competitions - in better rinks now, with bigger crowds - they role-played being in love. They shared secretive smiles at practices and rendezvous’ed in the locker room, where Adam gave artful, humming blow jobs. The ones Alex gave in return were less practiced, but Adam responded with an enthusiasm that made him glow.
It was a relationship without the boring parts; without the arguments and the compromises. In their shared hotel rooms, they talked about books and movies. And, as their voices grew softer and the nights grew longer, they talked about other things, too. They shared the things they didn’t tell other people; the secrets and anxieties they buried deep inside. It was a relief for Alex to unburden himself.
Yet, in truth, it was a relief that he didn’t have to do it all the time. He didn’t have to be sensitive and vulnerable and affectionate full-time. He didn’t have to worry that Adam would reject him. Because none of it was real. Not really real.
Alex’s real self was in Michigan, where he was mostly-straight and mostly-carefree. Adam had a whole other life in California, too - stupid-sounding affairs with dumb guys he met at the gym or at the meat counter in Whole Foods. Adam talked about those short-lived relationships sometimes and Alex rolled his eyes as if he was bored by the stories and not envious.
Then the show would close its doors, the competition would end, and they stopped pretending to be boyfriends. They each went home. Adam went back to his over-complicated, melodramatic love life. And Alex went back to being not gay.
*
At breakfast the next morning, Adam and Alex held hands under the table, their knees knocking together pleasantly. The motel’s dining room was shabby and the spread of baked goods looked dusty. Alex didn’t care, though. Having real food - sugar-laden, fat-filled food - for breakfast was a luxury he wouldn’t get to enjoy when training resumed. Calories buzzed through his veins and the memory of sex warmed his bones. If happiness was measured by base contentment, Alex couldn’t remember being happier.
Adam’s phone buzzed and he withdrew his hand from Alex’s grasp to take the call.
“Good morning, beloved,” he said into the phone, his British/Australian accent resurfacing. He paused to listen to the response. “Yes, we are eating all the finest porcupine and mudrat delicacies. You’ll find the decadent banquet hall past the dumpsters. Please, join us post-haste.”
Adam laughed hard at whatever Maia’s reply was. Then he said, “See you in a smidge, my ravishing damsel.”
“Maia’s on her way,” Adam told Alex with a smile. However, Alex noticed that he didn’t reach for Alex’s hand again.
“You shouldn’t lead her on,” Alex said.
“What?”
Alex already regretted saying it, but somehow he couldn’t stop himself from repeating it.
“Maia. You’re always leading her on.”
Adam laughed. “I am not.”
“You flirt,” Alex said. He could hear the obnoxious, obstinate tone in his voice, but he still couldn’t make himself stop. “All the time. But of course you don’t mean it.”
“Of course I mean it.” Adam’s tone, by contrast, was still light. “She’s gorgeous.”
Alex rolled his eyes. “But she doesn’t get that it’s not for real. She’s… y’know. Naïve.”
“She’s eighteen, not eight.” A crackle of irritation finally appeared in Adam’s voice, but then he paused and laughed. “She’s… not that in-no-cent,” he sang. “She has a boyfriend.”
Later, Alex would realize that Adam was giving him an out. Adam was prepared to forgive his foolish jealousy. At that moment, Alex could have reached for Adam’s hand and chosen to change the subject. But Adam’s last comment rankled too much for him to do anything of the sort.
“She doesn’t have a boyfriend,” Alex said contemptuously. “I think I’d know.”
“Right,” said Adam. “So I’m a liar and you know absolutely everything about everything.”
*
Adam ignored Alex for the rest of the morning. The remainder of breakfast - with Maia in the middle saying, “What is up with the two of you?” - was excruciating. Afterward, they headed back to their rooms to gather their stuff. Maia said she needed to wash her hair, which meant half an hour for Alex and Adam to kill before they could leave.
Half an hour would have been enough time to have sex. Alex was painfully aware of that fact. Instead, when they returned to their room, Adam pointedly got out his Kindle and began to read. Even just looking at Adam - his mouth fixed in a straight line, one leg folded up beneath him as he sat and read - made Alex’s cock twitch. Finally, he had to go into the bathroom and jerk off - angrily - under the pretence of taking a shower.
Alex didn’t know how it was possible to feel so shitty so soon after feeling so happy. He and Adam didn’t fight. That was the whole point of being part-time boyfriends. They didn’t spend enough time together to piss each other off.
When they left the motel and got back in the car, Adam announced that he wanted to sleep. He stretched out across the back seat, leaving Alex and Maia to sit in front. Maia put the car in drive and pulled out of the motel’s parking lot.
For a long time, the only sound was the radio, playing quietly. The station was Maia’s choice. Mellow indie-pop. Sunny day music.
Finally, after twenty minutes of twee hipster love songs, Alex reached over and stabbed at the radio’s buttons. He blitzed through all the stations on offer and, when none of them suited him, he started the process again.
Maia reached over and swatted his hand away from the radio dials.
“Stop it,” she said. “Maniac. You’ve been acting so weird this whole trip.”
Alex ignored her, but he did stop messing with the radio. They’d landed on a country music station, but suddenly he found he didn’t care. He stared blankly out the car window, thinking about math.
“This was your idea, remember?” Maia sniped at him. “We could have just taken a flight.”
Alex ignored her.
“Did you two have a lovers’ spat or something?” she asked, irritated.
“A-what? What does that mean? We don’t even. Why would say that?”
Alex tried to laugh, like it was the craziest thing he’d heard all year. He glanced in the rear-view mirror. Adam was asleep on the back seat, angelic as a child.
“You are the worst liar in the world,” said Maia. “I remember when we were in Korea and there was that party. When Mom caught us sneaking out of the hotel, you said we were going to do laundry. At eleven at night. And that in Korea it’s the custom to dress up to do laundry. So that’s why we looked the way he did.”
Alex was momentarily distracted by an old wound.
“Mom almost believed that,” he said.
“Right,” said Maia with a laugh.
Alex cast around for something to throw at Maia.
“Adam said you have a boyfriend. Mom know about that?”
“I don’t have a boyfriend,” Maia said, sounding completely unruffled. “Steven Chang would like to be my boyfriend, but I’m concentrating on my training right now, so there’s nothing going on.”
She paused and cast a sidelong look at Alex.
“See,” she said, “now that was a good lie. Plausible, with enough truth to be convincing.”
“So you do have a boyfriend!”
“Oh, well done,” Maia said, rolling her eyes. “You’ve discovered my shocking secret.”
“I can’t believe you kept it from me,” said Alex.
“Are we really playing that game? When your secret boyfriend of eight years is asleep in the back?”
Alex glanced in the rear-view mirror again. A lock of blond hair - a perfect curl - lay across Adam’s forehead as he slept.
“He’s not my boyfriend.”
“Yeah, but you’d like him to be. That’s why you’ve been such a prissy little”-she mouthed the word bitch-“every time he’s paid any attention to me on this trip.”
“You don’t understand at all,” Alex said. He reached over to the radio and turned up the country music station.
“God, you’re annoying,” Maia said, raising her voice to be heard over the radio. “It can’t be that complicated. Is this wussy, coming-out stuff? You know no one cares if you’re gay, right? No one at the rink cares. No one at college cares.”
“Mom and Dad-”
“Mom and Dad don’t care. Not really. They might be upset for, like, five minutes. But I don’t think they’ll fall down dead of surprise.”
Alex was agitated now. “What, because it’s so predictable? And you knew it all along? I’m not even sure I am gay. I’m seeing someone. This girl in my Econ class.”
“Well, good for you,” said Maia. “But I suggest you break up with her, since you’re obviously in love with Adam.”
“What? I’m not in love with-It’s not like that at all.”
“You’re a terrible liar,” she said.
Maia sighed like she was bored with the conversation. She turned the radio back to its original station and began to sing along quietly to the song that was playing.
Alex slumped down in his seat, stewing in Maia’s words. He glanced in the rear view mirror once more. With a start, he saw that Adam’s eyes were open.
*
How much Adam overheard of Alex’s conversation with Maia, Alex didn’t know. He might have heard everything. He might have heard nothing. Either way, there was no big scene afterward. Adam didn’t confront Alex and Alex didn’t confront Adam. When they finally reached Michigan and went their separate ways, they hugged goodbye warmly.
But Alex sensed that it was the end of being fake boyfriends.
Later, Alex really did break up with Julie-from-Econ-379. They went out for their semi-regular post-class cup of coffee and he said he was really sorry but he didn’t think he could see her any more. She looked confused more than upset. Days later, he found out through the grapevine that Julie actually had a long-term, long-distance boyfriend and that - maybeperhaps - their post-class cups of coffee had just been post-class cups of coffee and not the pre-dating ritual Alex had imagined. So that was embarrassing. But Alex was glad to end the charade that Julie was someone he was actually interested in.
Later still, Maia mentioned that Adam had broken up with Marco.
(“Who’s Marco?” asked Alex.
“You know, the one from Whole Foods. Meat counter guy.”
“Right.”)
Alex knew that Maia and Adam texted constantly, which was presumably how she found out about his relationship status. By contrast, Alex and Adam barely texted at all. They never had done. It was part of the whole part-time boyfriend thing.
After hearing of the demise of Marco, Alex spent a week building up the courage to text Adam. He tapped out hundreds of different greetings and didn’t send any of them. Because it was all electronic, Alex didn’t even have the satisfaction of screwing up a page of notepaper and throwing it in the trash each time he deleted a message.
Finally, at two a.m., early one random Tuesday, Alex sent Adam a message.
Alex @ 02:12
174 days. That’s how much time we’ve spent together. Since we kissed that first time.
Alex wasn’t expecting a response till morning, so he jumped when the phone beeped in his hand. He realized his heart was racing as he opened up Adam’s reply.
Adam @ 02:14
Uh, thanks for the math. :)
Before he could overthink it, Alex made himself reply.
Alex @ 02:17
174 days. That’s a long time. That’s longer than I’ve ever been able to keep a pot plant alive. So. You > pot plant, basically.
The moment Alex pressed ‘Send’, he regretted it. You > pot plant? That’s what he’d sent?? In the dictionary under the heading ‘moron’, there had to be a picture of Alex Shibutani. Holding a dead pot plant, probably.
However, Adam’s reply came quickly.
Adam @ 02:19
Ha. Does this have anything to do with you being in love with me? I seem to remember overhearing something like that…
Alex’s heart wouldn’t stop racing.
Alex @ 02:20
You were asleep.
Adam @ 02:22
So I dreamed it all, huh? Tell me how much more of those 174 days I dreamed. ;)
Alex swallowed hard. His fingers shook a little as they skidded across the keypad.
Alex @ 02:23
I’m thinking of coming to Cali for a visit.
Adam @ 02:25
You need to think less. Do more.
*
The next Sunday, Alex arrived early for Family Dinner at his parents’ house, which made everyone suspicious.
Trying to be helpful, he laid out napkins and silverware on the table. (His mom, trailing in his wake, reset each place after he was done.) In the kitchen, he chopped vegetables haphazardly. (His dad looked alarmed and took the knife out of his hands.) He switched to the stove, where he poked at the rice with a spatula. (His mom sighed and told him to go sit down.)
Maia arrived moments later. Unfurling her scarf and shaking out her hair, she gave Alex a side-eye.
“Why are you here early?” he asked him and then raised her voice, calling through to the kitchen: “Why is Alex here early?”
“He’s been helping,” Dad called back. (Alex chose to ignore the note of sarcasm in his dad’s voice.)
“Helping…” Maia repeated, taking a seat next to Alex at the dinner table. “You know, Marina gave me a long lecture about work ethic today. Because you booked five days out of the rink. Why am I getting the Russian death glare when it’s you canceling a week’s training?”
“First of all,” replied Alex, “five days is not a week. Second of all, one of those days is a Saturday, so it’s really like four and a half days. Look, dinner’s ready!” he finished hurriedly as their parents entered the room.
Alex set to work demolishing his meal, ignoring Maia’s repeated attempts to catch his eye.
“Tell us something interesting that happened to you this week,” Mom said brightly, looking from Alex to Maia and back again.
“Well,” Maia spoke up immediately, “I’m really interested in why Alex is taking a week’s vacation at the start of the season.” She gave a sweet smile and stabbed at her broccoli.
Mom frowned. “Alex…?”
“I’m really interested in Maia’s boyfriend who she hasn’t told us anything about,” Alex said loudly.
Mom’s frown deepened. “Maia…?”
“I don’t have a boyfriend,” Maia said, with another oh-so-sweet smile. “Steven Chang would like to be my boyfriend. But I’m concentrating on-“
“He is her boyfriend,” Alex cut in. “You should probably invite him for dinner. But not next week because I’m out of town.” He shovelled a forkful of carrots into his mouth.
“Where are you going?” asked Dad, looking slightly bewildered.
“California,” Alex said, his mouth still full of carrots. “To visit Adam. Rippon. Who is my boyfriend.”
Alex kept chewing and waited for the words to sink in. Chew, chew, chew. A moment ago, he’d been straight Alex eating carrots. Now he was gay Alex eating carrots. As he glanced from his mom to his dad, Alex could almost see himself changing before his parents’ eyes. Their impressions of him. Their expectations of him. Their feelings about him…? Seeing the change in his parents’ eyes came with a sensation like falling. Alex swallowed his mouthful of carrots and waited to hit the ground.
“That-” Mom said finally. “That’s a lot of information to digest.”
The silence that followed was excruciating.
Mechanically, his mom reached up to dab at her mouth using her napkin. Then she lowered her napkin and smoothed it back over her lap. She began to speak in clipped, no-nonsense terms.
“Starting when Alex returns,” she said, “we will be scheduling dinners. Maia, please give me a number for this Steven Chang.”
Alex glanced at Maia, who looked appalled.
“Why do I have to go first?” asked Maia.
“Because we already know Adam,” said Mom. “We like Adam.”
Mom cast a firm look at Dad, who stirred in his chair and then began to nod, only slightly reluctantly.
“Yes, we like Adam,” Dad said quietly.
Alex’s dad met his eyes and gave him a small smile. Like the rest of his expression, it seemed tense, but it was a smile and it was there.
Alex felt like he could breathe for the first time in five minutes. In fact, breathing felt easier than it had done in years.
*
A week later, Adam greeted Alex off the plane with a one-armed hug and a guarded smile.
The airport was more like an airstrip with an oversize storage container for a terminal. Alex shouldered his backpack and the two of them weaved through the crowd of families and tourists, heading for the outside world. Stepping out into the sunshine after hours in a sardine can of an airplane felt ridiculously good. Hot air enveloped him as the automatic doors whooshed open.
“So you should probably let me know,” Adam said archly. “If this visit is for bro-tastic hangs. Or if it’s for something else.”
“I don’t think I’d ever use the word bro-tastic…” said Alex.
They began the walk across the parking lot, toward Adam’s car. In arranging the trip, Adam had said Alex could “crash” at his apartment and sleep “wherever” during the five days Alex would spend in California.
Five days. Five days was a lot. Five days was more time than they’d ever spent together consecutively. Five days wasn’t part-time boyfriend. Five days couldn’t be faked. Five days was enough time to get on each other’s nerves. Enough time to fight. Enough time to make up?
“I thought all straight guys said bro-tastic,” countered Adam. “I thought it was a requirement.”
“…Would it be bro-tastic to kiss you?”
Adam took an exaggerated look around them.
“This looks remarkably like a public place…”
“Maybe I don’t care,” said Alex.
(Maybe he did still care. A little. But he was trying hard not to care.)
They kissed at the edge of the parking lot. In the sunshine and the hot air. And, as Alex tugged Adam closer, he remembered the texture of rough sequins and the thrill of a first kiss.
“My parents want you to come to dinner,” Alex slipped into the breathless pause between kisses.
“Like. Arranging-the-dowry dinner?” Adam asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Something like that.”
Adam perked up; he was already preening in anticipation.
“I will be the most charming boyfriend you ever brought home,” he said.
“You’ll be the only boyfriend I’ve ever brought home,” Alex said with a snort.
“Well, let’s hope it stays that way,” Adam said and drew him into another kiss.