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The only time Johnny isn’t frowning is when he’s focused on the horses. It’s the first thing Gyro noticed about him. Not uncommon for those who show up to the barn for equine therapy, but something about Johnny felt different. How he felt an instant magnetic connection to someone who glowers constantly he’s not sure. But, Johnny puts up with his awful jokes and constant flirting regardless, so he doesn’t question it too hard. Johnny may even appreciate his company.
The Zeppeli barn houses show horses, rental stalls, and on two days a week he lets a local counselor use the space for equine therapy. Johnny showed up with the trauma recovery group, and within a few weeks he came a third day on his own. The third day was never about therapy, but they were both willing to pretend. It had been like that for a while now.
So they fell into a game of cat and mouse, albeit a cat who doesn’t pounce and a very grumpy mouse.
The day was cloudy, blue sky hidden by mottled gray. The rhythm of hoofs clopping filled the comfortable silence like it usually did. It had become routine to ride the horses around the property, a hefty acreage of flat grassland around the barn, always at a walking pace.
“Are you feelin’ that?”
Gyro didn’t have time to wonder what he meant. As if to enlighten him, a fat rain droplet hit him square on the nose. “Shit, yeah.”
“I thought you said it wasn’t gonna rain.” Johnny shot him a sidelong stare, disarmed with a wave of Gyro’s hand.
“That’s what the weatherman said. Probably just a sprinkle.”
Maybe it was bad luck, or Murphy’s Law at work, but the sky heard Gyro loud and clear. The far off hiss of worsening rain was a split second warning before they were pelted by it. Gyro leaned forward, tugging the reins.
“Be careful,” he shouted through the wet static, “don’t slip.”
If Johnny replied he couldn’t hear it, he broke into a gallop with Valkyrie. The horses needed to be back in the barn before the grass turned to mud. Thankfully they hadn’t ridden out far, and as expected Johnny trotted in with Slow Dancer only moments after Gyro did.
They went about untacking the horses, just a bit wetter than usual. Gyro rounded Slow Dancer to help Johnny into his chair, only to be stopped by a damp hand grabbing his wrist. Johnny looked down at him, brows pinched together in thought.
“Uh, what’s up?”
Johnny spoke simply. “When are you taking me out for a date?”
Gyro’s mouth hung open, rainwater dripped from his hair onto his cheeks. After a moment he huffed a laugh. “Whenever you want to go. I didn’t think you were this impatient.”
He let the comment roll off his back. “Next weekend. Now help me down.”
“Sure thing.”
So they talked it out while drying off, and set up a date. Dinner at a nice place in town and a movie afterward. The nights leading up to the date were spent on the phone into the early hours of the morning, talking about nothing and everything. Their anticipation coiled tighter with every conversation, looking forward to finally spending time together away from the barn. Just the two of them.
🐎
“Listen, I’m really sorry. I know I’m late but I’m on my way. Can you check in with our reservation?” Gyro drove with one hand, holding the phone up to his ear with the other.
“No.”
“C’mon, don’t be mad. Just use my name.”
“No, I mean.” Johnny paused to groan. “I’m late too.”
He felt bad over the relief at not being the sole cause of their delay. “You too?”
“Yeah. My uber isn’t here yet.”
Gyro squinted at the heavy traffic ahead of him. The silence stretched a beat longer than was comfortable.
“They have wheelchair accessible rides.” To Gyro’s relief, Johnny laughed. “Dumbass.”
“Right. Well, whoever gets there first should try to get our table.” He glanced at the time on his dashboard. “We’re only half an hour late, maybe.”
🐎
“What do you mean there’s no tables? We’re only half an hour late!” Gyro stood nearly leaning over the host stand, but the maître d looked unimpressed.
“A full hour late, sir. We hold tables for twenty minutes at most.”
Gyro rocked back on his heels, knowing he was in the wrong, but God did he want this date to go right. “What’s the wait time then?”
“We’re fully booked for the evening.”
“Let’s just go.” Johnny tugged the rolled up sleeve of Gyro’s button-up. He looked and felt like he’d shrink into his chair and disappear if he could. It meant something, that Gyro was trying as hard as he was, but the spectacle wasn’t helping the anxiety of being watched.
Gyro looked down at him, brows pinched together in concern. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah.”
They left much quieter than they arrived, not without Johnny hitting a few people with his chair. Out in the crisp but comfortable night air, Gyro spat half hearted venom. “The least they could’ve done was get out of your way.”
“It wasn’t an accident, fuck them.”
Gyro’s head whipped in his direction, an incredulous grin on his face. “You did that on purpose?”
Johnny grinned back, and they shared a mean little laugh of joy. It relaxed the tension enough for them to decide on their next move.
“We can still go see the movie,” Johnny looked off down the street, “the theater ain’t far.”
The date was planned around accessibility, to keep them moving when they wanted or needed to. The restaurant and the theater were close together in an area designed for foot traffic. Their casual stroll and chat didn’t last long when the theater came into view.
“I don’t see the movie on the marquee.” Johnny murmured.
“Well, there’s a lot of movies. Maybe they’re not all on the marquee.” Gyro walked a little faster, determined to get to the ticket window and prove himself right.
Johnny followed behind, silent. By the time he rolled up, the employee at the window was already speaking.
“Sorry, that film just left the theater yesterday.”
Gyro tugged the ends of his hair in frustration, head dropping back with a groan. “Is there something else you wanted to see?” He turned to his date, and the blonde had just started to roll away in the opposite direction. “Johnny?”
But he continued on, barging onward and daring anyone in his path not to get out of the way.
“Where are you going?” Gyro called out, stilled by disbelief for a moment before jogging to catch up. Johnny didn’t slow, but they were side by side again in no time. Gyro attempted to catch his breath. “You’re a fast little mouse, aren’t ya?”
The statement shocked Johnny into slowing, but not fully stopping. He worked his jaw and furrowed his brow, looking ahead. “Just give up.”
“Oh come on, it’s just a little setback.”
“Two major setbacks. This date isn’t workin’ out.”
“Now, listen.” Gyro reached out, putting a hand on Johnny’s shoulder. With a little grunt Johnny stopped.
“Give me somethin’ to listen to then.”
“Right,” Gyro knelt so they could be eye to eye. “Okay, so the whole plan went to shit. I don’t care. We can still spend time together.”
The bough of a leafy tree stretched overhead, growing from its brick planter. It threw dappled shadows over Gyro’s face in the warm streetlight. Johnny sighed, giving in to the care he felt. “What are we supposed to do?”
Gyro hummed with thought, moving to sit on the edge of the brick tree planter. Whatever it was, it had to be something they both liked and was easy enough to do. But on a busy Friday night like tonight it was a challenge, the restaurants were packed and window shopping in the pedestrian area would only carry them so far.
Seemingly dissatisfied with the silence, Johnny spoke again. “Whatever it is, it’s gonna be a gamble if it’s crowded or if I can even get in.”
At those words, a spark lit behind Gyro’s hazel eyes. “Oh, that’s perfect.” He whipped out his phone, haptic feedback filling the confused silence.
“‘The hell are you talkin’ about?”
“It’s a surprise, but it’s gonna work.” A little melody from his phone let Johnny know he’d hailed a rideshare.
Gyro tended to be an endless wellspring of bad or just weird ideas, but Johnny decided to trust him on this one.
🐎
“We’re almost there. You should be able to see it soon.”
Johnny bent his neck, trying to look further out of the window. He hated to admit, but the anticipation had him looking forward to whatever it was Gyro came up with. The highway had been clear, and whatever exit they got off on wasn’t crowded either. The area didn’t seem very developed, so there weren’t many clues to go off of.
That is, until sparkling lights came into distant view. A myriad of different colors flashing in time, repeating in a pattern once they got closer. The building was big, a beacon against the black velvet of the night sky.
Then the sign came into view.
“A casino?” Johnny looked over.
“A casino hotel, technically.”
Judging by the look on his face, Johnny didn’t hate the idea. Actually, once the van pulled up and he was out on the pavement before the casino doors Johnny looked excited. Sharply dressed ushers greeted them at the doors as they entered.
It was an immediate overload in the best way. The lobby was massive, a windowed dome ceiling was high overhead, flashing lights bouncing off white marble floors. The sound of idle chatter from the lobby bar and slot machine bells echoed within the space. A central walkway wound a path ahead of them, flanked by water fountain displays lit with colors and spouting off to a tune playing from somewhere in the lobby.
“Dang.” Johny spoke quietly.
Gyro grinned, leaning forward to look at him and letting dirty blonde locks drape over his cheek. “Somebody likes my idea.”
His lips clamped shut. Whether he was blushing or the colorful lights created an illusion was hard to tell. A half-hearted scowl crossed his face.
“I wanna hear it, say ‘yes Gyro your idea was great.’”
Johnny rolled his eyes. “Yes Gyro, your idea was great.” He began rolling toward the casino floor. “Since it was your great idea you can buy my chips.”
“How much money do you think I have?” Johnny shot him a look, and Gyro found himself waffling. “You get fifty bucks worth, that’s it.”
The two made a beast of a team at each table and machine they went to. Things played out over blackjack in the way they do at the barn, unspoken yet intrinsically understood. Whole conversations took place with mere glances, miniscule changes in facial expression. They robbed each game blind without a single cheat. At a certain point they agreed to hold back, if anything, to avoid getting thrown out with no winnings for suspected foul play.
They decided to wind down with something that didn’t spark the mistrust of the house. By luck they found an empty pool table. Johnny sat pressed against the side of the table at the center pocket, cue stick in hand and set to aim. Gyro leaned against the table with one hip, arms sculpted by horse wrangling folded over his chest.
“Don’t mess up.” Gyro snickered. “Don’t mess up!”
Johnny shushed him, lined up his shot and took it. The billiard balls cracked like thunder, bouncing off the edges of the table and scattering over the green felt. One ball rolled towards the pocket nearest him, Gyro’s, and they both sucked in a breath. It rolled to the edge of the pocket, teetering for a seeming eternity, but it never fell.
Gyro groaned in response while Johnny gave a snicker at his expense.
“Don’t laugh at me you little gremlin.”
“I thought I was a mouse?”
He’d forgotten about the mouse comment. Twisting his mouth to the side in a faux pout, Gyro glanced down at the ball at the edge of the pocket. “I changed my mind.” Reaching forward, he tapped the ball with one finger. It fell heavy into the netting below.
“Cheater!” Never to be bested, Johnny stabbed a ball into a pocket with his cue stick, bringing their score to even.
Gyro thought to say something, but no words came to mind. Actions speak louder than words. So he set his hand on the pool table, and leaned down.
They kissed, not long or drawn out but sweet all the same. The background chatter faded to silence for them, even after Gyro pulled away. To spite the smile on both of their faces, Johnny turned back to the game.
“Gross,” he mumbled playfully.
“You don’t kiss too bad for a gremlin.”
“Are ya shit talkin’ ‘cause you’re afraid to lose?”
“Hell no!”
They shared a glance, a playful challenge. Whatever the outcome may be, they were both winners at the end of the night.