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“Roz, you are not going to believe this.”
Ilya didn’t bother looking up from his phone. Knowing Cliff he could be talking about anything—gossip in the group chat, what was being served in the cafeteria, global warming and its effects on the polar ice caps—Cliff contained multitudes.
What Ilya was not expecting was for Cliff to snag him by the arm and drag him to where Connors was standing looking wide eyed at a store window. And…that was weird…
“What—?” started Ilya.
Connors cut him off. Slapping Ilya’s other arm before gesturing towards the window. “Roz, is that Shane fucking Hollander?”
Ilya turned towards the window. It was a large window and most of it was being taken up by a very large black and white photo of six sexy people all laying out together on a beach. The waves breaking at their calves. The ocean spray somehow captured in midair. This was a clothing store, but none of them were wearing much clothing.
One of the men at the end had his head turned. Only a sliver of his side profile was visible—most of his attention was on the woman pressed against him. She was wearing only a bikini top and an open cardigan and a pair of jean shorts.
The man wasn’t wearing a shirt. Just jeans slung low across his hips. His arms and shoulders and abs on full display. Every ridge, every curve, put in sharp relief in black and white. There was just enough of the man’s face visible to see a hint of a smile…
And cheekbones covered in freckles.
It was Shane fucking Hollander.
Ilya’s first thought was: Shane in wet jeans being forced to roll around in sand with a stranger. He must have hated it.
Ilya’s second thought—
He raised his phone and snapped a photo.
Ilya:
Explain
[image]
Shane:
Well
Fuck
—
Ilya had met Shane Hollander at a frat party.
It would take almost a month for Ilya to realize how much of a rare and beautiful gift he had been given that night.
In the moment, all Ilya cared about were his friends who were greeting him and then dragging him and then more or less begging him to stop some asshole from hustling them all in pool.
And then there he was. The man Ilya would learn much later was Shane Hollander. Casually chalking up a pool stick. Wearing a navy flannel shirt with a backwards baseball hat. He looked a little glassy eyed and unfocused—and unfairly pretty even under the shit lighting of the frat house.
And Ilya wanted to ask Cliff and Connors if they were sure this was the guy they found so threatening.
And then Shane Hollander proceeded to absolutely decimate him at pool. Lining up impossible shot after impossible shot. Bending over the table like he was made for this. Flashing Ilya a cocky smile as he sank the eight ball to end their very, very short game.
And Ilya would never admit it to anyone—but he happily handed over his fifty dollars. It was money well spent as far as he was concerned.
Shane shot Ilya a wink and walked out of the room with his money and a whole pile of other people’s money—
And Ilya was pretty sure his heart.
—
“Ah, Hayd, why is there like four hundred dollars sitting on my nightstand?”
Hayden laughed. “Don’t ask me. I left you alone for like an hour—max—and apparently you had downed half a bottle of tequila—”
And that explained why Shane’s head felt like it was being cracked in half. One of his last memories involved being painfully awkward and needing something to take the edge off and then…things got a little fuzzy…and then a lot fuzzy and…
“And you started playing pool?”
Shane collapsed on to the sofa. He closed his eyes and willed the whole world to stop spinning. “Fuck.”
“Hey, don’t worry about it,” reassured Hayden. “I’m sure it’s fine.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Hayden clapped a hand on his shoulder. “I mean…what’s the worst that could happen?”
—
Ilya went to every possible frat party he could after that.
Except the pretty boy who kicked Ilya’s ass at pool wasn’t at any of them.
Pool Shark, someone called him.
And English was a stupid language because apparently this combination of words had nothing to do with an actual shark in a swimming pool. Instead, it was meant to describe someone who hustled other people at billiards.
And Ilya had no idea why he cared so much.
“No one knows where he came from,” confirmed Cliff as he threw himself down on the couch.
“What do you mean?”
Cliff shrugged as he plucked the Xbox controller from Ilya’s hands and joined a lobby for a Call of Duty game. “He apparently appeared like a Frat Boy of Christmas Past and then disappeared into thin air.”
Ilya frowned because that didn’t sound right. “No one knows who he is?”
“Nah, man.” Cliff briefly looked away from the TV to ask, “Why, Roz, you got a crush or something?”
Ilya frowned as slumped further down the couch. “He has my money.”
Cliff barked out a laugh. “He has a lot of people’s money. You aren’t special, brother.”
Which…didn’t bother Ilya…
Like at all…
—
In the end, Ilya found Shane Hollander again by accident.
In the bowels of the old science library basement where no one went because the only thing stored there were research papers written when dinosaurs still walked the earth. Ilya knew about it because there were also a couple of forgotten study rooms that were perfect for a quick on campus hookup when in a pinch.
Which explained the girl who currently had her nails digging into Ilya’s back and her lipstick was probably smeared on his neck.
It didn’t explain why Ilya’s mysterious pool shark was sitting at one of the tables in between the stacks.
He looked different here in the library. Very stiff and very serious. His brows furrowed as he read. He was also absently chewing on the end of a cheap pen.
Ilya tracked the motion of those lips—
And then he detached himself from the girl in his arms.
“I’ll catch up,” he murmured in her ear. “I need to talk to this guy. He owes me money.”
The girl huffed. “Okay, but hurry.”
Ilya absently kissed her cheek. “It won’t take long. Promise.”
Ilya’s pool shark was wearing a well worn blue hoodie. All of his books and notebooks were neatly arranged on the table—along with an open can of ginger ale. No one was supposed to drink in the library, but considering that Ilya was about to fuck a girl in one of the study rooms he really didn’t have an argument to stand on.
Ilya dropped into the seat across from him.
The guy flinched and then glared. Probably for being interrupted. Ilya honestly wasn’t really paying attention because he hadn’t noticed before in the dim lighting of the frat house—
The pool shark had freckles.
“Can I help you?”
And Ilya found himself asking, “What is your name?”
“What?”
“You have a name, right?”
“Shane. Why—?”
“Shane,” said Ilya with a sigh that he refused to label as relief. “It took a long time to find you. You have my money.”
Shane froze. The color draining from his face. “Shit. Did I play pool against you?”
Ilya arched an eyebrow. “You don’t remember?”
“No, not really, sorry.” And Shane really did seem flustered and sorry. “I don’t really drink? Or party? I was really only there because my friend has been trying to talk to this girl and…” Shane trailed off and seemed to come to a decision. He squared his shoulders and looked at Ilya like he was expecting a fight. “I can’t give your money back because I gave the money away.”
“You gave the money away?”
“To an animal shelter.”
“You gave the money away to an animal shelter,” Ilya found himself repeating because the words weren’t fully registering.
Shane’s ears had started to turn red and Ilya was fascinated by this development.
“They needed to buy blankets for the dogs. So…um…I can’t give you your money back?”
“Okay.”
Shane blinked back at him. “Okay? That’s…it?”
Ilya threw his hands up in frustration. “Why would I take blankets away from dogs? I’m not a monster.”
And for the first time Shane smiled—a tiny, tentative thing.
Ilya cleared his throat. “So…did you take everyone’s money for this purpose?”
“For what…? Oh, for the animal shelter? Um…no.”
And Ilya liked the way that Shane’s freckles looked tinged with a blush.
“I’m not supposed to be playing pool for money. I promised my dad I wouldn’t…you know…”
"Embarrass everyone?” suggested Ilya, half joking.
Shane apparently was not.
“Basically! But I was drunk enough to forget about that—and everything else. So…” And Ilya’s beautiful pool shark shrugged—sheepish and embarrassed. “Sorry. It won’t happen again.”
“Well, that’s a shame.”
Shane tilted his head in confusion. “That I kicked your ass at pool?”
What a little shit. It was adorable really.
Ilya found himself giving his best slow smile. “That you don’t remember me.”
“Oh, um,” said Shane, clearly flustered—and, yeah, Ilya could work with that.
“If you don’t remember me. I’ll just have to introduce myself again.” Ilya held out his hand across the table. “Ilya Rozanov.”
“Shane Hollander.”
Ilya’s hand closed around Shane’s and he liked how they fit together. “It’s nice to meet you Shane Hollander. Let’s be friends.”
—
It was two hours later that Ilya remembered he had left that girl in the basement study room.
He didn’t even remember her name. She had been listed in his phone as: Girl from Foam Party? Nicole from Econ’s friend?
Whoever she was she cursed him out and then blocked his number.
And Ilya wasn’t too worried about it.
He had a new name to focus on now…
—
“Hey, Hayd, have you ever heard of a guy named Ilya Rozanov?”
“Yeah, he’s an asshole.”
“I think…I became friends with him?”
“Oh, bud, no.”
—
“I regret ever becoming friends with you,” was the first thing Shane said when he opened the door.
Ilya laughed as he more or less shouldered his way into Shane’s apartment.
Shane let him. He always did.
Ilya kicked off his shoes and neatly lined them up next to all of Shane’s identical Reeboks.
He turned to find Shane still standing by the door. His body ridged as if by standing perfectly still he could somehow contain the chaos of his thoughts.
“So…” started Ilya. “You are model now.”
Shane sighed. His back finally bending as he collapsed against the door. “What if I told you I wasn’t?”
Ilya smiled as he closed the distance between them. He held up the empty bag he was holding. The thick paper neatly pressed together. The image on it perfectly preserved without a single wrinkle.
It had the same black and white photo on it. The one that had hung in the window display.
“So…this isn’t you?”
Shane frowned. His eyebrows furrowing in disapproval. “How the hell did you get that?”
Ilya glanced at the bag and then back at Shane. “I had to seduce the cute cashier girl so she would give me the bag without buying anything.”
“Wow,” drolled Shane. “What a hardship.”
“It was,” whined Ilya. “It took me a very long time. Like 30 seconds.”
“Oh my god,” said Shane as he shoved passed him. “Fuck off, Rozanov.”
—
Hours later when Shane had been rendered all soft and pliant. Quiet and more than a little dazed. A satisfied smile on his lips. He absently said, “At least you didn’t grab the catalog.”
Ilya went very, very still.
“What. Catalog.”
—
“I found him. His name is Shane Hollander.”
“Found who?” asked Cliff who was simultaneously eating Lucky Charms and doing the word search on the back of the Lucky Charm’s box.
“The really good pool player from that one frat party.”
Cliff glanced at Ilya and frowned. “That was…a month ago?”
“He was hard to find,” said Ilya with a shrug.
Cliff seemed to be weighing how invested he wanted to get into this conversation and eventually settled on, “Well, good? I know a few people who will be happy about that. They really did want their money back.”
Ilya shook his head. “I don’t think he can give the money back.”
“He can’t?”
“He bought blankets for dogs!”
Cliff sat back puzzled. “Is that…code for something?”
Ilya waved him off. “Nevermind. I’ll handle it.”
Cliff picked up a pen and circled ‘rainbows’ on the Lucky Charms word search. “Whatever, man.”
—
Ilya ended up picking up a couple of extra shifts at the bar.
He paid back anyone who demanded their money saying that it had come from the pool shark from the party.
Because, really, anyone who was an asshole enough to want to take blankets away from dogs shouldn’t be bothering Shane Hollander.
—
One more trip to the mall and one more cute cashier boy seduced and Ilya was the proud owner of the Abercrombie & Fitch’s Spring/Summer catalog.
Ilya sat crosslegged and naked on his bed. Flipping through the matte pages of the catalog. The photos were supposed to look like casual snapshots, like friends hanging out. Except these friends were all impossibly hot and hung out mostly naked with their arms wrapped around each other.
Not that Ilya could judge. Not when his good personal friend Shane Hollander was currently curled up on his bed.
The Shane Hollander who looked back at Ilya from the catalog was picture perfect hotness. He was still achingly beautiful, but it was also the kind of hotness that seemed almost unreal, almost untouchable. Less of an actual person and more of a concept.
A very, very attractive concept.
“Do you have to look at that now?”
This Shane Hollander looked…well…well fucked.
He had been dozing. Spread out like a lazy cat in the sun. His hair sticking up every which way. His chest still covered in a sheen of sweat. The sheets pooled around him.
Beautiful because he was here and because he was Ilya’s.
The catalog was fantastic. Ilya was going to keep it forever. But it was nothing compared to having the real thing.
“When did you even have time to do this?”
Shane groaned. He draped his arm over his eyes. The flush on his cheeks was starting to make its way down his neck. And Ilya knew he needed to get through this conversation quickly because in about five minutes he was going to want to taste the warmth of Shane’s skin on his tongue.
“Over Winter Break,” mumbled Shane. “Flew out to Long Beach for three days for the shoot.”
Ilya frowned. “Where the hell is Long Beach?”
“It’s near Los Angeles. In California.”
And that was a little surprising.
“Mr. Jet Setter.”
Shane punched his arm. “Fuck off.”
“Did you have fun?” teased Ilya as he tossed the catalog on his desk. Leaning down for a closer study of the blush on Shane’s cheeks. “Got to spend Winter Break with lots of sexy people on a beach in California.”
Shane groaned. “No. It wasn’t fun. It was work. It was a lot of work.”
Ilya hummed as he nosed along the column of Shane’s neck. “Yes. You are like shark out of ocean.”
Shane frowned. His face delightfully confused even as he tipped his chin back to give Ilya better access to his neck. “A fish out of water?”
And Ilya figured that was close enough to five minutes. He draped himself over Shane. Taking his wrist in his own hand—and pinning it above his head.
“No, no, shark,” insisted Ilya. He bit at Shane’s neck for emphasis. “моя акула.”
Shane squirmed beneath him. His breath already coming out in short, desperate pants. “That…doesn’t make any sense…”
Ilya grinned. “That was how I met you, sweetheart.”
—
It was disturbingly easy to learn about Ilya Rozanov.
It seemed everyone knew him and everyone had an opinion.
Handsome. Charming. A total asshole.
A business major—and yeah, that made sense. Shane could perfectly picture him in a suit and tie networking (?) and working on spreadsheets (?) and knowing about…third quarter earning reports (?) and drinking whiskeys at business lunches while talking about the stock market and sports cars (?)...or some shit.
He was also apparently an honorary member of every frat and sorority on campus—an impressive feat considering his track record of messy hook ups.
Oh. And he was bisexual.
Shane filed that way away.
The thing was…
None of that explained why Ilya Rozanov had started to become a consistently inconsistent part of Shane’s life.
Showing up randomly in the basement library. Sometimes to just annoy Shane by saying outrageous things before fucking off again. Sometimes to furiously type on his laptop for two hours. Sometimes to read beat up paperbacks written in Russian.
He never had a girl…or a boy with him again.
Not that Shane was paying attention to stuff like that…
Sometimes he would smuggle in a ginger ale for Shane and a Coke for himself before settling in and getting to work on whatever paper he was working on.
Once Ilya showed up looking exhausted. He more or less collapsed into the chair across from Shane and then proceeded to use his backpack as a pillow. Setting it on the table and wrapping his arms around it. He was asleep ten minutes later.
And Shane resisted the strange urge to run his fingers through his curls.
—
Finding out things about Shane Hollander was always an unexpected gift.
Shane never left the basement because he was double majoring in Biology and History and was already studying for med school entrance exams.
He was fluent in French. A fact Ilya learned as he watched Shane stop to help a couple who were obviously lost and apparently trying to meet up with their son.
He worked as a part-time yoga instructor. Which Ilya would never have found out about if Shane hadn’t shown up in the basement with a yoga mat slung over his shoulder—and wearing a pair of tiny work out shorts.
Shane worked out at least five times a week at 6:00 AM like an absolute lunatic—because he liked to start the day with a quiet mind and because he preferred the gym when it wasn’t crowded and when he knew he wouldn’t be disturbed.
Shane Hollander was intense about a lot of different things.
And Ilya was becoming mildly obsessed with how to become one of those things.
—
“I’m just modeling to pay for college.”
Ilya couldn’t help it. He laughed as he wrapped his arms around Shane as he tried to cook an omelet that was turning out more like a scramble.
“What?” groaned Shane. “Is that a boring answer?”
“Yes!”
“I’m sorry for being boring,” said Shane with familiar exasperation before he added quietly, “Med school isn’t going to be cheap.”
Ilya placed his chin on his shoulder. The truth was he was ridiculously proud of Shane. Two majors. A looming med school entrance exam and a part time job was a lot to handle as it was. Ilya honestly didn’t understand how Shane managed another part time job on top of all of that.
“Doctor Jet Setter.”
“Shut up,” grumbled Shane, but Ilya could see the edges of his smile.
—
“Hey,” said Cliff in between sips of coffee. “You’re friends with Shane Hollander, right?”
Ilya paused in raising his own cup of coffee. “What about him?”
“Man, this girl in my Chem class is obsessed with him. I thought I had a chance and then it turned out I was competing with a fucking Abrercrombie model.” Cliff shook his head. “I didn’t know he had it in him, if I’m being honest.”
“Had what?”
Cliff shrugged. “I dunno. Hotness?”
Ilya snickered because that was the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard.
He placed a consoling hand on Cliff’s shoulder. “It’s okay. It is true you are no Shane Hollander, but don’t let that discourage you. You have a great personality, Marley.”
Cliff laughed and shoved Ilya’s hand off of him. “I’m a goddamn delight.”
Ilya took a quick sip of his coffee. “What every woman wants to hear, I’m sure.”
“Oh, fuck you, Roz.”
—
The first time Ilya saw Shane off campus was when he wandered into the bar Ilya worked at with a group of his friends.
His friends obviously liked him and obviously had peer pressured him into coming out with them and Shane obviously wanted to be anywhere but at this bar but obviously liked his friends enough to try.
…and Ilya was left wondering when all of this had become so obvious.
“Rozanov.”
“Pike.”
Hayden folded his arms across his chest. “Can we get a round of beers?”
Ilya nodded as he started to reach for pint glasses. “One round of the cheapest, shittiest beer for you and your boys coming right up.”
“Fuck you, Rozanov,” groaned JJ from where he was leaning up against the bar.
“Ask me nicely,” shot back Ilya automatically, most of his attention was already on filling the pint glasses—
Though he did glance over his shoulder in order to shoot a quick wink at Shane. Who went wide eyed before looking down at the bar top as if it had suddenly given him all of the answers in the universe.
Ilya dropped the pint glasses on the bar as soon as they were ready and Shane’s friends scooped them up quickly. Taking sips as they went to grab a table or hijack the jukebox or setting up a game of pool.
Ilya placed Shane’s pintglass in front of him and Shane quietly thanked him as he took the glass and wandered over to the table with his friends. And Ilya watched as he took a tentative sip. Watched as he immediately looked up stunned and turned to look right back at Ilya—
Because he had given him ginger ale instead.
Ilya tilted his head in silent question. Shane glanced down at his pint—
And gave a short barely there nod.
Shane seemed content to let his friends happen around him. Only getting pulled into their conversations or antics every so often. Ilya tracked his tight and trying smile in between making cosmos and highballs and pouring out tequila shots. Mainly he was serving cheap beer because most of the patrons were poor college students.
Eventually, Shane made his way to the bar.
Ilya watched him out of the corner of his eye as he put together another round of Jack and Cokes for what must have been the whole debate team—those party animals.
Shane stood at the bar holding his empty pint glass with both hands. Clutching it like a lifeline. Even when Ilya finally made it to him.
“Shane?”
Shane hummed and then snapped to attention. “Oh, sorry.”
“Do you need a refill or…” Ilya trailed off. “Maybe I assumed too much? I can get you a beer if you want.”
Shane shook his head. “No. It’s okay. I actually…um, thank you.” He awkwardly held up his pint glass. “For this.”
Ilya studied him for a moment. “Can’t break your promise to your dad again, no?”
Shane swallowed…and then licked his lips and Ilya tracked the movement mesmerized. “No, but even normally…I’m not much of a drinker.”
Ilya grinned back at him. Leaning up against the bartop. He was wearing a black tank top and knew just how good he looked in it. Ilya made most of his money on tips—so sue him. It still pleased a deep, primal part of him to see the way Shane’s eyes watched him.
“So…are you happy with my customer service, Hollander?”
Ilya was expecting the blush. Flustering Shane Hollander had become one of his favorite things.
What he wasn’t expecting was for Shane to nervously—bravely—ask, “When do you get off of work?”
—
“Have you done this before? With a man?”
Shane shook his head.
And Ilya wondered what he had ever done to deserve such a gift.
—
Shane reached out and touched the spines of the textbooks propped up on Ilya’s desk. “These…aren’t business books?”
Ilya was sitting by the window. He had apparently unscrewed the screen when he had moved in so that he could smoke—much like he was now.
Shane had told him it wasn’t healthy and that he wouldn’t get his security deposit back. Ilya hadn’t seemed too concerned about either of those things.
Ilya took a drag from his cigarette and blew out the smoke—or most of it—into the night. “Why would I have business books?”
“I thought…you were a business major?”
Ilya shrugged. “Ah…I thought about it, but I ended up a psychology major.”
“Oh,” replied Shane, surprised as he turned back to face Ilya. “So you want to be a psychologist?”
“Yeah, I think so. Probably.”
“Can I ask why?”
Ilya shrugged again. The gesture seemed less casual and more practiced this time. “It’s important. To have someone who has been on the other side. Who understands the…how you say?” He smoked quietly until he finally landed on the word. “Process.”
“Oh,” said Shane again. “Yeah.”
Ilya smiled as he snuffed out his cigarette in an ashtray. “Anyway…it’s also important to have queer psychologist to talk to too, yes?”
“Yeah—yeah, of course.”
And Shane wondered why he kind of felt like crying.
“I want to be a doctor.”
Ilya looked back at him a little fond and a little frustrated. “Yeah, Shane. I know.”
—
“He’s really not who you think he is.”
Hayden shot him a flat look. “Oh, I’m pretty sure he is.”
“Did you know he’s a psych major?”
“For psychological warfare reasons?”
“Hayd.”
“What? A guy has to ask!”
—
Shane collapsed into his usual chair.
Ilya looked up from his laptop and immediately asked, “What’s wrong?”
Shane waved off his concern before he started to unpack his backpack. “It’s nothing bad…just…weird.”
“Like that time they served jello with breakfast in the cafeteria? Or like Jackie is into Hayden for some reason?”
“You know,” said Shane as he opened his textbook to the exact right page because he was a man who loved a color coded sticky flag. “One day you will have to be nice to Hayden.”
“Does this work both ways?”
Shane rolled his eyes. “Anyways…a random girl stopped me and asked me to sign her Abercrombie catalog.”
Ilya tried—and then failed very badly—not to smile. “Oh, you’re signing autographs now, Hollander?”
“Shut up. It’s not like I’m an actual model—”
“I’m pretty sure if you were paid you’re an actual model. Maybe call your mom and ask just to be sure—”
“Oh, fuck off. I just mean I’m not really famous. This is just a clothing catalog! It’s not like Vogue or Time or—”
“The New Yorker?”
“Fuck off! I’m not talking to you anymore.”
Ilya laughed and Shane nudged his foot under the table.
—
Shane:
If I agree to go to this party
Can you get me out of the party after like an hour?
Ilya:
Why even go to the party?
We can stay in. ;)
Shane:
Hayden is still trying to talk to Jackie
He said I’m his wingman
Ilya:
You are going to be a wingman?
Shane:
Hayden says I disarm people with my big wet eyeballs?
Ilya:
…
…
…
I hate that I agree with Pike about something
Shane:
So yes to the party?
Ilya:
Yes
Send me the address
I think I’ll enjoy saving you
—
“You okay, Roz?”
Ilya had a beer in one hand and what was possibly the last ginger ale in this whole frat house in the other. “Yeah. Fantastic.”
Cliff clapped him on the back. “Okaaay. You’ve just been talking to the same dude for like two hours now.”
Ilya hummed. “Yeah. Shane Hollander—the pool shark.”
“No shit?” said Cliff as him and Connors both turned to look at Shane.
“He seems…” Connors trailed off and then tried out, “...nice?”
Ilya laughed and clapped Connors on the shoulder. “Don’t try so hard. Might hurt yourself, yeah?”
“Fuck off, Roz.” Connors downed the rest of his drink and then absently gestured with the empty cup in the general direction of Shane. “So…what’s his deal?”
“What deal?”
Connors shrugged. “I’ve never seen you take so long to close before.”
Ilya glanced across the crowded living room to where he had left Shane tucked away against a wall. He had dressed in jeans and a white t-shirt that actually fit him and actually showed off that he worked out religiously and taught yoga part time.
It had been enough that Ilya had teased him about dressing up for him. And Shane had blushed and admitted that his friend Rose had helped a little.
He really was adorable. His Pool Shark.
“Has it really been two hours?” asked Ilya absently.
“Yeah, brother,” laughed Cliff. “You sure you’re good?”
“Never better.”
Ilya cut through the crowd and couldn’t help but pause as Shane turned and looked at him and his eyes really did get wide and shiny as he smiled and—
“Do you want to get out of here?” asked Ilya. “I’ve been told we’ve been at this party for two hours so that means I was supposed to save you an hour ago.”
Shane plucked the unopened can of beer and the unopened can of ginger ale from Ilya and set both down on a side table before he turned back smiling so beautifully—
“Yeah. Let’s go.”
And Ilya grinned as he wrapped his arm around Shane.
And pulled him close.
And didn’t let go.
—
“Can I tell you about my mother?”
“Yeah. Of course.”
—
“Did…um…look…it’s not…like a big deal or anything…but did you want to meet my parents?”
“You want me to meet your parents?”
“Yeah?”
“Me.”
Shane rolled his eyes. “No. Hayden.”
And he knew that Ilya was thinking about this seriously because he didn’t even react.
“Are you sure?”
Shane tilted Ilya’s chin so that he could look him in the eye when he said, “Yeah.”
Ilya let out a long breath and then kissed Shane’s fingertips and then kissed him. “Okay, моя акула. I would love to meet your parents.”
—
“Dude, I’m just saying, you could have told me you model.”
“It’s not a big deal, Hayd.”
“People are literally stopping you to ask to take a photo with you!”
Shane sighed. “It doesn’t really matter. I’m graduating soon anyway and then…hopefully everyone will have forgotten about the whole thing.”
“I will never forget.”
Shane turned and smiled as Ilya walked up. Wrapping an arm around his shoulders and placing a kiss on his temple.
“I’m going to frame the photos and tell our grandkids this was what their grandpa looked like when I met him.”
“Please don’t,” replied Shane to which he only got a wink in return.
“Pike, have you seen Shane’s photos? My personal favorite is the one where he’s only in boxers and wet—”
Shane shoved him and Ilya just laughed.
Hayden shook his head. “Anyway…Jackie says to remember us now that you’re famous.”
“I am not famous!”
“Shane, this is Ottawa,” Ilya pointed out. “You are big shark in small pool.”
“Please don’t disrespect my hometown in front of me.”
“Oh, so many models come from Ottawa?”
“Fuck off.”
Instead of fucking off, Ilya pulled Shane closer. His hand curling around Shane’s waist. And Shane sighed as he felt himself curl right back.
“My parents wanted to know if you’re free this Saturday for lunch?”
Ilya hummed. “Yeah. I have a late shift that night.”
“Cool. I’ll let them know.”
Hayden let out a long exasperated breath. “I’m never going to get used to this.”
—
“You’re dating Shane Hollander? Really?” said Cliff. “The Abercrombie model? Damn, bro.”
Ilya hummed. He was currently texting Shane and trying to convince him that going mini golfing as a double date with Jackie and Hayden sounded like a good way for someone (Hayden) ending up humiliated and maybe dead. They were currently in the middle of a very sexy negotiation.
“He’s going to be a doctor.”
“Oh? Quite the catch, Roz.”
“Un-huh,” agreed Ilya absently. “He’s a shark. He bites.”
Cliff choked on air. “Jesus. It’s always the quiet ones….”
Ilya grinned and finally looked up from his phone. “Yeah. I am a very lucky man.”
—
Ilya could read the tension in Shane’s shoulders the moment his eyes landed on him.
It wasn’t the same tension that he radiated when truly uncomfortable. This type of tension made Shane stand straight with his shoulders squared. His posture rigid. His movements stiff. This type of tension was actually tightly wound control.
There was a group of five people—not necessarily imposing on Shane’s personal space—but definitely brushing up against it. They were talking to him with wide eyes and excited voices. As far as Ilya could tell, from the brief amount of conversation he overheard, they were trying to convince Shane to come to a party with them. They probably wanted to show off that they knew a model—
And, well, Ilya knew the part he had to play.
“Hey, sweetheart,” said Ilya as he cut a path right through them. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”
He wrapped an arm around Shane’s shoulders. Relishing the way he melted as he curled into Ilya’s side. The tension bleeding out of him.
“We’re running late to lunch with your parents, yeah?”
They weren’t, but Shane smiled softly up at him anyway. “Yeah.”
“It was nice meeting you,” called Ilya over his shoulder seeing as though they were already walking away.
Shane punched him very lightly on the stomach, but didn’t pull away.
—
“Does it bother you?” asked Shane.
“Hmm? That you don’t know who Bad Bunny is? Yes.”
Shane rolled his eyes. “No. That people are asking for my autograph and inviting me to parties and wanting to take a picture with me.”
Ilya curled up on his side so that he could wrap an arm around him. “No. It doesn’t bother me. Does it bother you?”
“A little bit…” admitted Shane. “I don’t know what to do with that kind of attention.”
“Yes,” agreed Ilya. “It’s adorable.”
“Shut up.”
Ilya propped himself up and suddenly he was looking at Shane in a way that only happened in moments like this. When it was just the two of them. When the rest of the world was very far away.
Ilya’s fingers reached up—and he traced along Shane’s freckles as if he couldn’t help it.
“You are very beautiful, моя акула. It is annoying that no one seemed to know this fact before.”
Shane shot him a leveled look. “Really?”
Ilya sighed. “I can be happy that I found you first and mad that you were underappreciated at the same time.”
Shane kissed him. Because he had to. Because he couldn’t help it. Because it still amazed him that they were here together, like this.
“Besides,” said Ilya as he pulled away—only to place quick kisses on both of Shane’s cheeks and then his nose. “They look at you and do not know you. They do not know that you are so fucking competitive and kind of an asshole—”
“Hey—”
“And that you drive a boring car and read medical journals in your spare time—”
“Fuck off.”
“And they do not love you like I love you.”
Shane had been in the middle of trying to shove Ilya off of the bed—he froze. “You…love me?”
“I mean…yes? Probably?”
Shane laughed because he had never seen Ilya look so flustered and nervous and blushing. “Oh, you’re going to have to do better than that, Rozanov.”
Ilya tackled him. Pinning Shane beneath him. And Shane couldn’t help smiling—
“Я тебя люблю,” said Ilya and then, “I love you.”
“I love you,” replied Shane as he cradled Ilya’s face between his hands. “Je t'aime.”
—
“Jesus, Ilya. No. No way.”
Shane’s legs still wrapped around Ilya as he picked him up and placed him on the edge of the table—located in the bowels of the old science library basement where no one went—
Except for them.
“But,” said Ilya as he pressed a kiss to the underside of Shane’s jaw. “This is where we met—”
“We met like a month earlier—”
Ilya had been trying to see how many buttons he could unbutton on Shane’s shirt before he noticed, but he paused—huffing a laugh into the hollow of Shane’s neck.
“Well, we could break into that frat house and fuck on the pool table instead if that’s what you really want.”
Shane shoved him off and Ilya let himself go. Grinning because Shane was flushed and already a little desperate and so fucking pretty.
They were a week away from graduation. Shane had been accepted to med school and Ilya would be starting his doctoral program and they had both decided to stay in Ottawa because—
“What I want,” said Shane as he leaned into Ilya and Ilya reached up to tug at the third button on his shirt and Shane didn’t even bother to swat his hand away. “Is to go home.”
Ilya hummed. His finger tracing along the sliver of skin that had been revealed. Shane reached up and took his hand. Lacing their fingers together. Kissing the back of Ilya’s knuckles.
“Take me home?”
And Ilya squeezed Shane’s hand.
“Yeah, let’s go home, sweetheart.”