Psycop 2: Criss Cross
“Jacob stood his ground instead and looked from Roger to me, and raised an eyebrow.
“Oh, hey,” I said. “This is Roger, my new partner. Roger, this is Jacob, my, uh....” God, could there be a worse word than “boyfriend?” It made us sound like Barbie and Ken. Or Ken and Ken. Or Ken and G.I. Joe. I told my mind to stop stalling and think of a way to say it. “My partner...at home.”
There. I’d said it within the first week of knowing Roger. Now we wouldn’t have any awkward conversations looming over us. Or not as awkward as this one, anyway.
Jacob’s lips curved into a smile and he held out his hand. “Good to meet you,” he said, a teasing lilt to his voice. I had no idea he’d be so tickled about being introduced as my boyfriend. Or whatever.
“Right,” Roger said brightly -- my guess was that his brightness was covering some discomfort, but that was fine, as long as he wasn’t gonna be a dick about it.
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