Page 120 of Game Changer
“Geez, can you imagine how long it must have taken to make this thing? And they had whole armies of these guys?”
“They probably reused the armor. High job turnover.”
Scott laughed at Kip’s dark joke. Scott was in incognito mode: a Yankees hat pulled as low as possible without covering his eyes, a basic charcoal zip-up hoodie, and jeans. Kip wasn’t so sure his disguise was going to work; he was still the hottest man in any room. He was going to attract attention no matter what.
Scott’s shoulders were hunched, and he kept shoving his hands into the pockets of his sweater, as if to stop himself from reaching for Kip.
“My dad used to bring me here, when I was a kid,” Kip said. “He taught high school history and English.”
“So you got it from him?”
“Definitely,” Kip said. “My sister, Megan, was more into novels, but I was always interested in history.”
“What do you like about it?”
Kip wasn’t sure how to answer a question that enormous. “It’s... I mean, it’s one long story. Onereallylong story. And there have been millions of people over thousands of years who have helped to tell it. To record their own little piece of it, or to try to fill the gaps or make corrections to the parts that came before them. Like, some people try to record their story in a way that makes them look better—or that makes someone else look worse. But then historians work to fix that. And that’s what I want to do—work to make sure the right stories are being told.”
“Wow,” Scott said. “That’s cool. I like that.”
Kip shrugged, a little embarrassed by his weird ramblings. “I just find it interesting.”
“So sixteenth-century Italian knights aren’t your area of expertise?” Scott asked.
Kip shook his head and smiled. “Not really, no. I’m more interested in peasants. But soldiers definitely interest me.”
“Tell me,” Scott said. “I want to hear about what interests you.”
“Oh. Mostly I’m just interested in people. Not so much the big names in the history books, but how people lived during different periods. In different places. Who the soldiers were in the wars. Who the workers were. That sort of thing. Marginalized groups, especially. People who haven’t had their history told properly.”
Scott nodded thoughtfully. “Like gay people?” he guessed.
“Sure, yeah. For one. I wrote my undergrad thesis on marginalized groups being drafted into wars.” Kip examined the detailing on a sixteenth-century glaive, and waited for Scott to change the subject.
After a minute, Scott surprised Kip by asking, “Do you have a copy of it somewhere? I’d like to read it.”
Kip blinked at him. “You want to read my thesis?”
“Of course. If you wrote it, I want to read it.”
God, that was sweet. Kip really wanted to hug him. Would Scott be angry if he hugged him? “It’s, like, ninety pages long,” he said, instead of lunging for his big, adorable boyfriend. “And probably boring as hell.”
“I can read ninety pages,” Scott said, smirking. “I’m an athlete, not a moron.”
Kip rolled his eyes. “I know you’re not dumb, Scott.”
Scott smiled, and then his eyes darted around the room for the millionth time. He seemed to be forcing himself to have a good time, but was obviously uncomfortable. It was bumming Kip out.
He put a hand on Scott’s arm, then snatched it away when Scott flinched.
Kip did his best not to be annoyed. He wanted to tell Scott to relax, but instead he turned and led him to another suit of armor.
“Hey, have you seen this before? This was always one of my favorite things here. This was worn by Henry VIII.”
“I’ve heard of that guy!”
“See? Not dumb at all!”
Scott frowned at the golden armor. “I thought he was fat. Wasn’t he, like, a big fat guy with a beard? This suit looks really small.”
