Page 130 of Icing on the Cake

Hi Ice Queen. It’s Gerard.

I wanted to talk to you about your post revealingElliot’s identity to everyone. While I understand why you did it, I’m not happy about it.

Elliot means a lot to me, and he never signed up to be in the public eye. He’s a librarian, not an athlete. He appreciates having privacy and being able to go about his life undetected. But you took that away from him.

I don’t mind that you talk about me. I’ve consented to it. I’ve always been easy-breezy and a go-with-the-flow kind of guy. But that’s not who Elliot is. He will never be me. Because he’s his own person, and that’s why I like him.

Elliot and I are going to Colorado this week to visit my family. I hope that over the holiday, you’ll consider changing how you write about my life. I know you can do that withoutinvolving Elliot, but if you can’t, I will be incredibly disappointed and report you.

With that being said, I hope you have a great time with your family. If you do what I ask, I’ll send you some pictures of my feet. You haven’t written about those yet!

All my best,

Gerard Gunnarson

28

ELLIOT

Flying should be outlawed. There’s no reason why humans should be above the clouds. We should be on the ground where we belong. But unless I want to spend thirty hours in a car, the only other way to get to Colorado is by plane.

We’re still on the tarmac, but that hasn’t stopped my palms from profusely sweating. I press them against my jeans to dry them off, and within seconds, they’re clammy again. Beside me, Gerard is the picture of ease.

Our seats are in first class because his body won’t fit in economy. His legs are stretched out, and he’s skimming a sports magazine that he bought at a concession stand in the airport. He might as well be lounging in the Hockey House with how comfortable he is. Not sitting in a metal tube about to rocket into the sky at five hundred miles per hour.

“Gerard, how are you so calm right now?” I ask while wringing my hands.

He glances over at me, takes stock of my fidgeting, and smirks. “Aw, is someone nervous?”

I shoot him a glare. “I’m not nervous. I’m merely rationally concerned about entrusting my life to a giant hunk of metal and a couple of strangers in the cockpit.”

His smirk turns into a full-blown grin. “You’re adorable when you’re rationally concerned.” He does the bunny ears when he says, “rationally concerned.”

I want to shove those fingers in my mouth to shut him up. But I don’t because we’re in public. Instead, I watch the flight attendants walk down the aisle, checking that everyone has stowed their bags and fastened their seatbelts.

I should probably do that too. I’ve fastened seatbelts many times in my life, yet this one is giving me nothing but trouble. It takes me three tries to click the metal prongs into place. Meanwhile, Gerard buckles his seatbelt as fast as it takes me to blink.Show-off.

Noticing my increasing stress, Gerard reaches over and takes my hand. “Hey, it’s going to be okay. I’ve flown hundreds of times without any problems.”

I know he’s trying to reassure me, but his words only heighten my anxiety.Hundredsof times? That’shundredsof opportunities for something to go wrong.Hundredsof chances for a freak storm, engine failure, or pilot error.Hundredsof ways todie.

God, why is my chest incredibly tight all of a sudden?

Gerard’s face blurs and black spots dance at the edges of my vision.

Oh, no. I’m about to pass out. They’ll have to make an emergency landing in a cornfield in the middle of Kansas, and it’ll be all my fault and?—

“Elliot. Elliot, look at me.” Gerard’s voice slices through my panic. I force my eyes to focus on his face, on the worry in his eyes. “Breathe with me, okay? In and out. Nice, deep breaths—like this.”

He takes a deep breath, his chest rising as he fills his lungs with air. I try to mimic him, but it’s as if I’m breathing through a coffee stirrer. My chest tightens more, and each exhale comes out as nothing more than a painful wheeze.

“That’s it,” Gerard encourages. “In through your nose, outthrough your mouth. Focus on the air moving in and out of your body.”

I close my eyes and try to block out everything but Gerard’s voice and the sensation of air flowing through me.

In and out. In and out.

Slowly, ever so slowly, the vise around my lungs eases, and the black spots recede.

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