Page 102 of On Thin Ice

“Might’ve, though it was about what I expected based on what Sophieandyou told me. But I wasn’t surprised. I’ve caught Neal Fisher talking before on Sunday Morning Football, and he’s got a good perspective on lots of things.”

“I’m proud of you,” Finn said.

Jacob made a disgruntled noise. “Should you be, though?”

Jacob’s name echoed as the employee called it and Finn shot him a hard look, sliding out of the booth before Jacob could. “I’m getting the food—and then when I get back we’re going to talk about that.”

“Fine,” Jacob huffed.

Finn picked up their sandwiches and smoothies, sliding the blackberry pomegranate acai on the table towards Jacob and keeping his own strawberry pineapple.

“So why shouldn’t I be proud?” Finn questioned. Though he had a good idea of why Jacob said it. Not why hethoughtit in the first place, but at least why he’d brought it up.

“I mean, shouldn’t I be doing more? Living more proudly, more freely, more . . .I don’t know . . .fuck youto the establishment?” Jacob wondered.

Finn rolled his eyes. “Do you evenwantto say fuck you to the establishment?”

Jacob was opening his sandwich, the paper crinkling almost obscuring his words, but Finn could still hear his mumbled, “No.” Then he cleared his throat and added, “I don’t give a shit about the establishment.”

“There you go,” Finn said. “This is your fucking life. There’s plenty of people out there who actually want to burn down the establishment, whatever the hell that means. There’s no reason you have to do a goddamn thing. It actually annoys me that you think the only way I would be proud is if you scream to the world you’re gay. I don’t give a shit what anyone else thinks of you.”

“But you want me to come out,” Jacob countered.

Finn leaned forward, not sure if what he felt was annoyance or empathy. Maybe his issues didn’t revolve around his sexuality, but how different were they, really? “I thoughtyouwanted to come out. For the foundation.”

“I do. Ido. Fuck,” Jacob muttered. “Why am I so screwed up about this? It’s what I wanted. What Iwant.”

“Doesn’t mean it’s not hard or scary. I want to play hockey, more than anything else, and how much does that suck for me a lot of the time?”

Jacob nodded.

“You’re going to do this, and it’s gonna be just fine. Honestly, you should be way more afraid of telling my dad than telling the world.”

Jacob’s expression turned rueful. “Honestly? I am. Doesn’t mean I won’t do it.”

Finn nudged him again under the table, this time unable to keep his smile to himself. “See? There you go.”

Jacob sighed. “Why are you so great? I thought I was totally at peace with this. I talked to my therapist. I talked to Sophie. I talked to my brother. I even talked to Mark.”

“It’s ’cause I’m brilliant,” Finn said.

Jacob smiled. “Yeah, you kinda are. Eat your dinner. I get precisely . . .” He glanced down and checked his watch. “Twenty-six minutes before you have to be at study group.”

“I told you, I could skip the study group—”

“No way. Not on my watch. I didn’t go to college and I think it’s big that you’re doing it, Finn.”

“Ugh,” Finn complained after taking a huge bite of his sandwich. “This whole responsibility schtick of yours should feel less hot, but . . .”

Jacob leaned forward. “Kind of like how every single time you give me a big pep talk, I want to drag you into the nearest dark corner or utility closet with a locking door and make you come so hard you cry?”

Finn nearly choked on his smoothie. His dick was hard now, in Sammy’s. That shouldn’t be happening, but it was, and he had a feeling if he ran his foot up Jacob’s calf and then his thigh, he’d discover he wasn’t the only one. “Uh, yeah. Something like that.”

“Good.”

“And for the record,” Finn said, “it’s more like . . .thirty-six minutes?”

“Where’d you get the extra ten minutes from?”

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