Role Model by Rachel Reid

Chapter Twenty-Three

The Drover family farm was even more absurdly picturesque and charming than Troy had imagined. The long road took them past snow-laden apple trees until they reached a perfect white farmhouse.

“Are you nervous?” Harris asked as they parked the truck.

“No,” Troy lied.

“Good. They’ll love you. Just wait.”

They both got out of the truck, and Troy immediately heard barking.

“Uh-oh,” Harris said cheerfully. “Here they come.”

Several dogs of various sizes were running toward them, barking excitedly. Troy took a step back, but his back hit the side of the truck, leaving him trapped between hard metal and a tornado of dogs. Because of course they’d all made a beeline for Troy.

“Aw, come on, guys. You’re embarrassing me,” Harris laughed. He whistled and two of the dogs immediately went to him, leaving Troy with one very large dog pinning him against the truck with its paws on his stomach.

“Uh, hi,” Troy said. He realized that he had his hands in the air, as if he were surrendering. He lowered them slightly.

“Mac, you too. Get off of him, you demon.” Harris smacked his thigh, which got Mac’s attention. After a moment’s consideration, Mac seemed to decide he preferred freaking Troy out to hanging with Harris.

“Okay,” Troy said slowly. “Um...down?”

“Just start walking,” Harris said. “He’ll move.”

Troy took a step forward, and Mac dropped to all fours and wiggled between Troy’s legs.

“Mac’s the problem child,” Harris said, then knelt to scratch Mac’s head. “The little one is Shannon, and the white one is Bowser. They’re total sweethearts. Not like this boner.” Harris said the last part in an affectionate voice directed at Mac.

“Harris, don’t make your friend stand in the cold all afternoon!” The voice came from the house, and Troy turned to see a woman who must be Harris’s mother standing in the open door.

“We’re coming,” Harris said. He started walking toward the house, then stopped and said, “Shit! The pie.”

As Harris jogged back to the truck to retrieve the pie he’d made, his mom beckoned for Troy to come inside.

“I’m Marlene,” she said, extending her hand as Troy reached the top of the steps to the front veranda.

“Troy,” he said, shaking her hand. She had silver hair cut into a shoulder-length bob, dark-rimmed glasses, and the same compact build as her son. She was even wearing a plaid flannel shirt. She looked pretty hip, actually. Like a celebrated farm-to-table restaurateur.

“I’m glad to finally meet you,” she said as they went inside. “Harris has been talking you up.”

“Mom.”Harris groaned as he followed them with the pie and all three dogs.

Troy’s stomach flipped at the thought of Harris saying anything about him to his parents. It was touching and terrifying at the same time.

“He talks a lot,” Troy said, then realized it sounded more like a complaint than a gentle ribbing. “I mean, he’s friendly.” Then he realized he was talking about Harris as if he wasn’t there. “You’re friendly. And chatty. So I’m not surprised that you were talking about me.” He could feel the back of his neck heating as Harris and Marlene stared at him. “I can take that pie...somewhere...for you?”

Harris burst out laughing. “Glad you’re not nervous.”

The heat crept around from Troy’s neck to his face. “Sorry.” Excellent. He’d been here a few minutes and had basically cowered away from one of their dogs, then babbled some nonsense about Harris being chatty. Great first impression.

Troy glanced around at the old house that was obviously packed with family history and pride. It was so homey and pleasant and unfamiliar that Troy felt an urge to cast himself out into the cold like a monster.

“Is that Harris?” a new voice asked.

A man stepped into the front entrance from an adjacent room who looked a lot like an older version of Harris. The same eyes, the same full beard and thick hair, but both mostly gray, and the same warm smile and booming voice. The biggest difference was that he was several inches taller than Troy.

“You must be Troy. I’m Sam.”

They shook hands. “Thank you guys for having me. I haven’t had a home-cooked meal in a long time.”

“It’s been a long time since Harris has brought someone home that he’s sweet on,” Marlene said. Troy’s stomach fluttered.

“Oh my god, Mom. Way to make Troy think we live in the thirties or something.”

Marlene laughed. “Make yourself at home. We’ve got a fire going in the living room. That’s why the dogs are already back in there.” And that seemed to be the end of the Troy-is-gay-and-dating-Harris conversation. It had been barely anything, and Troy felt almost giddy.

“You saying you’re not sweet on me?” Troy murmured into Harris’s ear as they walked into the kitchen.

“You’re the bees knees, sweetheart.”

The kitchen was surprisingly large and smelled amazing. Harris set his pie on the counter and said, “Want something to drink?”

“Whatever you’re having.”

Harris opened the fridge and grabbed two bottles of his sisters’ cider, then handed one to Troy. “Maybe this will take the edge off.”

“I’m fine,” Troy said, though it was another lie. He was trying very hard to ignore how surreal this all felt. His relationship with Adrian had been based on a mutual fear of discovery. They had certainly never met each other’s families. It hadn’t even been discussed. He wasn’t quite sure what he was doing with Harris, but he knew he didn’t want the same sort of arrangement he’d had with Adrian. He wanted to get to know Harris’s family, and he wanted them to like him.

Which was a lot.

“Wanna see my old bedroom?” Harris asked, waggling his eyebrows.

Troy managed a half smile. “Are you allowed to have boys up there?”

Harris took a step toward him. “You’d be the first one.”

Oh. “Really?”

“Yeah. Wanna see it?”

Hell yes, Troy did.

Troy Barrett was in Harris’s childhood bedroom, sitting on his old, creaky twin bed, and Harris was trying very hard to be cool about it.

“This is a lot of Ottawa Centaurs stuff,” Troy observed.

He wasn’t lying. There were posters, pennants, and knickknacks everywhere. Harris had hockey cards shoved in the frame of his mirror. Even the bedside lamp had a Centaurs branded shade.

“I was a bit of a fan.”

“I’m a little concerned. This feels like you might have lured me up here to add to your collection.”

Harris grinned. “I was thinking about chaining you to my bed.”

Troy’s lips curved up. “This bed?” He bounced a couple of times, making it squeak loudly. “I think the detectives would find me.”

“Stop bouncing!” Harris hissed. “Mom and Dad will think we’re doing it!”

“Like this?” Troy bounced some more.

“Oh my god.” Harris lunged at him, and seconds later he had Troy pinned on his back and was sprawled on top of him.

“Be awkward if they walked in right now,” Troy said. Their lips were so close together that Harris could feel his breath tickle.

“We should get up, probably,” Harris murmured.

“Mm.” Then they were kissing. Harris had probably started it, but Troy was definitely into it, kissing Harris in that slow, exploratory way that absolutely melted Harris every time.

There was a loud crash behind them, which broke them apart.

“What the hell?” Troy asked.

“Uncle Elroy,” Harris said, dipping his head for another kiss.

Troy sat up, nearly knocking Harris to the floor. “Fuck off. It’s not a fucking ghost. What was it really?”

Harris glanced behind his shoulder and spotted the culprit on top of his dresser. “Ursula.”

“Who’s Ursula? The ghost of your great-grandmother?”

Harris laughed. “The cat. She was probably under the bed.”

Ursula swished her enormous fluffy tail and knocked a hairbrush to the floor.

“Oh,” Troy said. “And how many cats do you have? Eight?”

“Nope. Just one. If she treats you like garbage, don’t be offended. She’s not into people.”

“That makes two of us, Ursula.”

Harris shifted off Troy and sat on the edge of the bed. Troy moved to sit beside him.

“This seems like an okay house to grow up in,” Troy said.

“It was the best.”

“It would be nice, out here in the country, I think. I grew up in the suburbs of Vancouver.”

“I like being downtown, but I miss the quiet sometimes,” Harris said. “I’ll probably move back here someday. Not to this house, exactly. I mean, I don’t think so. Anna and Margot built the cidery on the west side of the orchard, and they more or less run the farm now. I assume one of them will get the house eventually. It’s been in the family for four generations so far. I’m glad my sisters are passionate about the farm.”

“You’re not?”

“I love it, but I don’t know if I want to run it.” Harris shrugged and gazed out the window. The sun had almost set over the snow-covered orchard. “I like my job a lot. I think I’d like to see how far I can go doing marketing and communications stuff.”

“And you get to work for the team you’re obsessed with.”

“True.”

“And you get to bone down with the hottest guy on the team.”

Harris elbowed him. “You’re making me feel unprofessional.”

At that moment, amazingly, Ursula hopped off the dresser and walked directly over to Troy. She paused a moment, glancing up at him, before jumping onto the bed beside him.

“Holy,” Harris said. “She never does that.”

Troy cautiously stroked Ursula’s head with a gentle hand. She leaned up into his palm, seemingly as fond of Troy’s touch as Harris was. Within seconds, she was purring loudly with her front paws on Troy’s thigh.

“Wow. She loves you.”

“Because she has great taste,” Troy said as he stroked under her chin.

Harris watched in astonishment for several minutes as Ursula shamelessly soaked up as much of Troy’s attention as she could get.

“Should I leave?” Harris asked.

“Are you still here?”

Harris laughed and kissed Troy’s cheek. “We should go back downstairs.”

“Okay.” Troy stood, and Ursula meowed angrily. “Well, come downstairs then,” Troy told her. “Jesus, it’s a pretty simple problem to fix.”

“She hardly ever comes downstairs. This is her domain up here.”

But as they grabbed their cider bottles off the nightstand and walked out of the bedroom, Ursula followed. “She can’t get enough of me,” Troy said.

Harris grinned. “That makes two of us, Ursula.”

“I like him,” Harris’s mom whispered to him when they were alone in the kitchen.

He smiled as he sliced the Dutch apple pie he’d made. “Who? Troy?”

She swatted his arm. “Of course Troy. He’s quiet, but he’s very polite. And he can’t take his eyes off you.”

Warmth bloomed in his belly. “Come on.”

Troy hadn’t said much during the meal, but it had barely been noticeable because everyone else—besides Josh—talked so much. He’d eaten heartily, though, and complimented the food, so everyone was charmed by him.

“He’s nuts about you. It’s very cute.”

“Well,” Harris said slowly. “I’m pretty nuts about him. I know it’s new, but I think—”

Troy’s deep voice cut him off. “Can I help?”

They both turned toward the kitchen entrance, where Troy was standing. His expression was blank, so Harris had no idea if he’d heard any of the conversation.

“Good idea,” Mom said cheerfully. “You help Harris with the pie, and I’ll...” She didn’t even bother inventing a task that she needed to do before darting out of the kitchen.

“Still can’t believe you made this,” Troy said, moving to stand beside Harris.

“Old family recipe.”

“I can barely cook anything.”

Harris smiled. “I know.”

Troy’s hip brushed Harris’s, and Harris leaned into it, relishing the contact, however chaste.

“How can I help?” Troy’s lips were close enough that Harris felt his breath tickling his ear.

“You can, um.” Harris couldn’t even remember what they were supposed to be doing, and now his dick had other ideas.

Right. Pie.

“Hold the plates, and I’ll put pie on each of them.”

“Okay.”

They worked quickly and silently as Harris tried to will his erection away. He couldn’t go to the dinner table with it.

Sheesh. He couldn’t even plate dessert with Troy without getting all hot and bothered. This honeymoon phase was going to be a wild ride.

“Hell yes,” Anna said when Harris returned to the dining room. “Pie!”

It took a few minutes, but eventually pie had been distributed to all eight people around the dining table. Harris’s sisters and their husbands had been eyeing Troy curiously all night. He knew Margot for sure was silently evaluating her brother’s new boyfriend.

“So you’re the guy from the skunk story?” Troy asked Anna’s husband, Mike.

Mike laughed. “Yep, that’s me.”

Anna scowled at Harris. “Jesus, Harris. Could you stop telling everyone in the world that story?”

“Would you?”

“Do you finally admit that you’re the one who put the skunk in the truck when you tell the story, at least?”

Harris gasped. “I can’t believe you think so little of your adoring baby brother.”

“Raise your hand if you think Harris did it,” Anna said.

Anna, Mike, Margot, Dad, Mom, and, reluctantly, Margot’s quiet husband, Josh, raised their hands. Harris turned his head to share a can you believe these people look with Troy, and saw that he’d raised his hand too. Harris shoved him, which made Troy and everyone else laugh.

“The way you’re all willing to gang up on a young man with a heart condition,” Harris said with mock affront. “Unbelievable.”

“You can’t play the heart card this time, buddy,” Anna said. “Your heart was working fine when you shoved a skunk in the truck.”

Harris laughed. He’d always appreciated the way Anna, especially, was able to joke about his condition. He was happy to see, when he glanced around the table, that his parents were laughing too.

“So, back to work tomorrow, boys?” Dad asked.

“Yep,” Troy said. “Kind of a brutal schedule this month.”

“You guys head to St. Louis tomorrow, don’t you?” Mike asked.

“Yeah.”

“Is getting on a plane hard?” Margot asked. “After the whole...thing?”

“It’s getting easier. Just have to keep doing it until we feel normal about it again, I guess.”

Harris was certainly glad he didn’t have to get on a plane again for a while, but he would miss Troy when he was gone. The Centaurs had three road trips this month.

“Well,” Mom said, leaning back in her chair, “that was an excellent pie, Harris.”

There were murmurs of agreement all around. Troy said, “I still can’t believe you made that.”

“Dude, you watched me make it.”

“I know. Still seems like magic.”

“Aw,” Anna said. “He thinks every little thing you do is magic, Harris.”

Troy turned redder than any apple Harris had ever seen.

They stayed long enough to help clean up, and then Troy loaded a few gifted cases of cider and a giant bag of apples into Harris’s truck. When Harris walked outside, he found Troy staring into the rear part of the cab.

“What’s up?” Harris asked.

“I’m checking for skunks.”

Harris laughed. “I do that every time.”

Troy knew he was being quiet during the drive back into the city, but he had too many things in his head. Being at the farm, among Harris’s warm, loving family, had been almost too much. Especially since they had all known that Troy was dating their son. They’d been so welcoming, treating him like he was part of the family. Troy had never experienced anything like it.

“So,” Harris asked. “Did you have an okay time?”

He sounded nervous, so Troy shook himself out of his thoughts. “Your family is awesome. I had a great time. Thank you for inviting me.”

Harris smiled and looked relieved. “You’re welcome anytime. We have dinner together most Sundays. They loved you.”

“You think?”

“Definitely.”

The other thing Troy was contemplating was what it would take to keep this thing with Harris. What he would need to give up in exchange for unlimited Sunday dinners and cozy mornings. Unlimited kisses and sex that was both hot and fun. He needed to stop hiding.

“I want to come out,” Troy said. “Like, all the way out. Maybe on Instagram or something.”

Harris glanced away from the road for a moment. “Yeah?”

“When’s our Pride Night game?”

“The end of February, but—”

“I want to come out before then. Maybe the same day.” Troy was excited now. “Every Pride game I’ve ever played in has felt so weird. Like I was hiding in plain sight or something. I hated it. But this time I can just...be proud. Actually be proud.”

Harris, for some reason, wasn’t smiling. “That’s awesome, and I want that for you. But you should know, the Pride game is against Toronto.”

A heavy silence hung in the air as all the joy drained from Troy’s body. Finally he managed to say, “Well, that’s stupid.”

Harris smiled sadly. “I know. I wish it was against any other team.”

Troy could not believe that the Pride game was against Toronto. “I don’t care,” he decided. “I still want to do it. But I need to come out to my mom first. I’ll do that soon. I wanted to do it in person, but phone will have to do.”

“What about your dad?” Harris asked carefully.

Troy had told himself for months that he didn’t care if he never spoke to Dad again, but was that true? Because coming out really would end his relationship with his father. He had no doubts about that.

“I guess that’s up to him. But I don’t expect he’ll talk to me again once he knows.” He sighed. “It’s for the best. I know not everyone is going to accept me, but I can’t live like this anymore.” He huffed out a surprised little laugh. “I almost can’t wait to do it, actually. It’s weird because I never thought I would want to do this, but if it wasn’t for the fact that I want to tell my mom first, I’d probably post something on Instagram right now.”

“Yeah, don’t do that. But I’m glad you feel that you’re ready. And...” Harris reached over and squeezed Troy’s hand. “I’m going to make sure this is the best Pride Night ever.”

Troy squeezed back. “I’m glad you’ll be a part of it.” He stared at their joined hands in the dim light of the truck. “I’m glad I met you. That you’re here. With me.”

“Me too.” Harris retrieved his hand. “We’re going to have sex when we get back, right?”

Troy laughed. “I fucking hope so.”

They went to Harris’s place because Troy wanted to keep the homey good vibes going. He wanted to make love to Harris under a homemade quilt and surrounded by colorful pillows. And a weird stuffed giraffe.

Now they were both naked in Harris’s bed, and had been taking their time kissing and warming each other’s bodies up.

“I really like you as a person,” Harris said in between the kisses he was peppering Troy’s belly with. “I like everything about you, including the weird way you smile and the way you pretend not to like sweets.”

Troy huffed. “Okay.”

“I just want to make that clear, so you don’t get any wrong ideas here. Because, holy hell, Troy. Your body is ridiculous.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“What exercises do you even need to do to get this muscle here?” Harris trailed a finger over Troy’s right oblique.

Troy shivered. “You have that muscle too, you know.”

“It’s probably buried in there somewhere, yeah. But yours are so...bumpy.”

“I work out for a living.”

Harris kissed Troy’s hip, and then across to his belly button. “And I appreciate it.”

“Good. It’s hard work being...bumpy.”

They both laughed. They’d been laughing a lot since they’d stumbled into Harris’s apartment, barely able to stop kissing long enough to unlock the door. Troy felt like he was drunk, although he had gone easy on the cider at the farm.

“Come here,” he said, and Harris crawled back up so their faces were level. Troy stroked Harris’s hair for a moment, and lost himself in his green eyes. “I’m going to miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too. But I’ll be here when you get back.”

“I’ll probably text you a lot,” Troy warned.

“You’d better.” Harris kissed his nose. “I take a mean dick pic.”

Troy cracked up, which made Harris crack up. “What does that even mean?” Troy gasped.

“You’ll see.”

Troy got himself under control and said, “I wouldn’t mind a dick pic. Your dick is adorable.”

Harris thunked his forehead against Troy’s chest. “Adorable?” he groaned.

“I like it.” Troy kissed the top of Harris’s head and said, “I’d like to have it...in me.”

Harris’s head shot up. “Tonight?”

“If that’s okay.”

“Super okay. You’ve done it before, right?”

“Yeah. Been a while, but I like it.”

Harris sat up, straddling Troy’s thighs, and rubbed his hands together excitedly. “This is going to rule.”

Troy laughed, and then moaned when Harris took his dick in his mouth. Troy had only been half hard, due to all the laughter and conversation, but he went rigid in seconds.

It took a while for Troy to get relaxed enough to take even Harris’s fingers comfortably, but Harris was patient and encouraging, and, frankly, skilled. He was giving Troy’s prostate more attention than it had ever gotten before, and Troy was losing his mind, writhing and gushing precome. He’d never come from prostate stimulation alone before, but in that moment it felt possible.

“Good?” Harris asked, checking in.

Troy could only give a strangled laugh, and a slurred, “So fucking good.”

“I have an awesome vibrator I could use on you. It makes me come so hard it almost hurts.”

Fuck, Troy really wanted to do that. Someday. Not now.

“Not tonight. Want you, Harris. Please.”

Harris kissed his knee. “Okay.”

He slowly withdrew his fingers, and Troy did some deep breathing to deal with the temporary sensation of emptiness. Harris got a condom and lube on, and finally lined himself up.

“You are so beautiful,” Harris said. His voice was quieter than Troy had ever heard it. “How are you even real?”

“I’m real. Please fuck me,” Troy practically whimpered.

Troy’s back arched at the first press of Harris’s cock against his entrance. Harris entered him in one slow, sweet slide until Troy felt wonderfully stretched and full.

“Still good?” Harris asked.

Troy nodded. “Kiss me?”

Harris leaned down, and they kissed so tenderly it was somehow more overwhelming than being penetrated. Then Harris began to thrust. He kept it slow, and that was okay. Troy just kept kissing him as a warmth spread through him that had nothing to do with sexual release. He’d bottomed before, but he’d never felt this. He felt cared for, in the way Harris was kissing him, touching him, fucking him. Like nothing bad would ever happen to Troy again if Harris could help it.

And god, Troy hoped Harris knew it went both ways. He hoped Harris could feel how important he was in the way Troy was kissing him back, and the way he was clenching around Harris’s cock, reluctant to let him go.

They rocked together for a blissful, immeasurable stretch of time, Harris murmuring sweet things that Troy couldn’t quite process.

“I’m close,” Harris eventually rasped against Troy’s lips. “Stroke yourself. Come with me.”

Troy reached between them and did as he was told. He realized, as soon as his hand was wrapped around his dick, that he was close too.

“Fuck, hurry,” Harris panted. His thrusts sped up, and Troy tried to match him.

“Okay,” Troy said. “I’m close. I’m—shit. I’m coming. Harris, fuck, I’m—”

They both cried out—Harris louder, as usual—and Troy’s release shot on his own chest as Harris finished with a few fast, frantic thrusts.

For a moment, Harris stayed where he was, hovering over Troy, his slightly damp hair falling in his eyes. His lips were wet and bruised from their kisses, and his emerald eyes were bright and beautiful.

Harris smiled at him. “That went well.”

Troy laughed and hoped Harris never stopped being such a goofball during sex. “Agreed.”

Harris pulled out, then kissed Troy quickly before leaving to clean himself up. Troy spread his arms out on the bed, and found Harris’s stuffed giraffe in one corner. He grabbed the toy and held it over his face.

“I think I’m in love with him, Mr. Neck-Neck.”