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The first time was a few months into their freshman year.
It seemed like everyone Jack knew who had come out at Samwell had come out to Shitty. The school tended to attract people who were questioning their identities, given its reputation, so despite the fairly short amount of time he had been there, there had already been several people who fell into this category. And Jack understood why they chose Shitty. There was something about him that was just easy to open up to. He put people at ease, despite his overwhelming personality. If you sat down to talk to him about something – about anything, really – you knew he would listen, and you knew he would support you. You could trust him.
Jack had resisted his offers of friendship for a while, but it didn’t take long for the two of them to click. Sometimes, friendship between two people just happens. Jack generally struggled to be comfortable around people, but hanging out with Shitty never felt like it took any effort. It just sort of worked. It was good for Jack to have a friend like that in his life. He had told Shitty about some things. He had been more honest with him about his anxiety than he had ever been with anyone, and he even talked about his overdose a little. But they hadn’t talked about everything.
Jack had known he was bi for a long time. The stuff that happened with Kent had been a confirmation of something he had already suspected about himself. He didn’t talk about it. He wasn’t stupid. He knew what the world of professional sports was like. Being out would make things very difficult for someone with his ambitions. And he didn’t think he could stand being the subject of another media circus, not so soon after his overdose. So, he did what he did with all the thoughts and feelings he didn’t know how to handle and just ignored it. He wasn’t really interested in getting involved with anyone at the moment anyway, man, woman, or otherwise. He had other things to focus on.
So, he honestly hadn’t given too much thought to Shitty’s reputation as a trusted person to come out to. That is, until a particular conversation they had one day.
“There you are.” Jack commented as Shitty sat down across from him at his table in the dining hall. “What took you so long?”
“Sorry.” Shitty said. “I stopped to check on this guy from my communications class. He seemed like he really needed to talk, so I sat with him for a few minutes.”
“Ah.” Jack said with a nod, picking at his food. “Is he okay?”
“Yeah, I think he’ll be alright. He’s figuring some stuff out, that’s all.”
Jack looked up and watched for a moment as Shitty started on his own food. “You know, it’s…I think it’s great that you can…do that for people.”
“Do what?” Shitty asked absently.
“You know. Help them…figure stuff out.”
Shitty shrugged. “It’s not hard. You listen to what they need to say, and you offer them support. There isn’t really much more to it than that.”
“There is, though.” Jack insisted. “You’re able to make people feel comfortable talking to you. Not everyone has that ability. I don’t.”
“Oh, you’re not so bad.” Shitty dismissed. “You’re a little…intense, that’s all. Once people get to know you, they realize that you’re a big marshmallow on the inside.”
Jack wasn’t sure he agreed with that assessment, but he decided that was an argument for another time. “If you say so. I just wanted to say that it’s something I admire you for. You probably…you probably help a lot of people.”
“Thanks, man.” Shitty said, looking pleasantly surprised by the compliment. “What brought on this unexpectedly heart-warming moment?”
Jack shrugged. “Nothing, really. It just seemed worth saying.”
Shitty grinned. “You never cease to surprise me, Zimmermann.” He said. “I’m enjoying this. Tell me other stuff I’m good at.”
Jack rolled his eyes. “Forget it.”
“Okay, fine. Is there anything you want to open up to me about? Since I’m so easy to talk to?” He was joking, but he gave Jack a look as he said it, as if to remind him that he really could talk to him if he wanted to.
And for a few fleeting moments, Jack actually considered it. He hadn’t been planning on it – it wasn’t why he had brought it up – but suddenly there was a part of him that was tempted. He trusted Shitty. If there was anyone he could come out to, it would be him. He wouldn’t tell anyone if Jack didn’t want him to. And it would be nice to have someone who knew. He took a breath, preparing to speak, but then a familiar sense of panic closed around his heart, and the words died in his throat. No. He wasn’t ready for that.
So instead he just said, “Um…once when I was a kid I told my dad that I was going to go into competitive swimming instead of hockey.”
“Really? Why?”
“Spite? I think I was mad at him. I don’t know, I was seven.”
“That’s fucking adorable.”
And with that, the subject was changed, and they carried on with their lunch, Shitty blissfully unaware of the way that Jack’s heart was still pounding in his chest.
The second time was when Parse came to visit after winning the Stanley Cup.
He had shown up unannounced – because that’s what Kent Parson did – at the Haus, with that smug grin on his face that infuriated Jack (and that, admittedly, he’d always thought was kind of hot). “I missed you, Zimms.” He had quipped before Jack had even finished stuttering out the question of what he was doing there. “Who else would I want to celebrate with?”
Of course, when a Stanley Cup winner walked into a house full of hockey players, it was only to be expected that everyone would get excited, which meant that Jack couldn’t exactly ask him to leave without raising a lot of questions. So, Jack had no real choice but to tolerate it while Kent hung out with his teammates and put on a show of being the coolest guy in the room. He didn’t know why Kent was really there, if he had actually missed Jack or if he was there to gloat, but either way, Jack didn’t want him there.
“What are you doing in here?”
Jack, who was sitting by himself at the table in the Haus kitchen, looked up when Shitty walked in. “What?” He asked, as though he didn’t know full well what Shitty was talking about.
“Everyone’s having a great time.” Shitty said, pointing back towards the living room, where the others could be heard talking and laughing. “And your friend came all the way here just to see you, and you’re brooding by yourself in the kitchen?”
“I’m not brooding.”
“Brah, you are absolutely brooding.” Shitty said. “What gives? Parse doesn’t exactly live around the corner, and he’s been nothing but chill since he got here, and you’re acting like such a dick.”
“Oh, yeah.” Jack grumbled sarcastically. “I’m the one being a dick.”
“He won the Stanley Cup, okay? Which I realize must be frustrating for you, because you two used to be a team and now he’s achieving your dreams without you, but you could still at least be happy for him.”
“Because that’s what this all must be about, huh?” Jack snapped, his temper getting the better of him. “Because all I care about is hockey and there couldn’t possibly be any other reason why I don’t want him around, right?”
His outburst seemed to have given Shitty pause. “So, something else did happen.” He said. Jack crossed his arms over his chest and looked away, not saying anything. “You never talk about it.” Shitty pressed on. “I always got the sense you two had some kind of a falling out, but you’ve never said anything. And now he shows up, and you act like you can’t even be in the same room with him. What happened with you and Parse?”
Jack was almost startled to be asked that point-blank. Usually, if it came up, people danced around the subject. Nobody wanted to look like they believed the rumors, no matter how curious they were. He glanced through the kitchen doorway, where Kent could be seen in the living room, telling a story to his captive audience of SMH players, presumably about some play he made during one of the playoff games. Some things never changed. He had a fleeting memory of sitting next to him while he told the epic tale of one of their plays, letting him do the talking because that was his thing, but secretly thrilled to hear someone talk about him like that. It hurt to think about now.
He looked back at Shitty, who was still watching him expectantly. It felt like the weight of everything he was holding back was going to crush him, and in that moment, he really wanted to tell Shitty the truth. But he couldn’t. Not with Kent in the next room, and not with the rest of their team right there with him, and sure, it would feel good to get it off his chest in the moment, but give it a few hours and the knowledge that he had actually told someone his secret would undoubtably induce a panic attack. He had been doing a good job of keeping it hidden. He shouldn’t ruin that just because he was having a bad day. Everything was going according to plan. He just had to stay focused.
He stood up. “I’ll be in my room.” He said, and he walked past Shitty and out of the kitchen. He slipped past everyone in the living room and was halfway up the stairs before anyone spoke to him.
“Hey, Zimms, where are you going?” Kent called. “Come on, join us! Everyone wants to hear about the old days.”
“I’m going to bed.” Jack grumbled, and he made it upstairs and to his room, slamming the door.
Shitty was standing in the kitchen doorway, watching him go. Kent caught his eye and shrugged. “He’s always been like that.” He dismissed. “Anyway, where were we?”
The third time was after Bitty showed up.
“You’ve got to be easier on him.”
Jack looked up to see Shitty walking over to him. They were the last two people in the locker room after practice. Jack had been delayed because he had been talking to the coaches, but he had noticed Shitty lingering as everyone else trickled out, pretending to still be tying his shoes for the last five minutes, until it was just the two of them.
“Who?” Jack asked casually. Shitty gave him a look.
“You know damn well who.” He said. “Bitty. The way you tore into him back there,”
“He screwed up.”
“It’s a new play, we’re all still learning it.”
“Bittle had the easiest part to play, he should have been able to do it. It’s kid stuff.”
“For you, maybe.”
“I’m not going to go easy on him just because- “
“It was practice, Jack!” Shitty cried. “It doesn’t matter! He screwed up while testing out a new play during practice, and you yelled at him in front of everyone! Again! Did you see his face? He looked like he wanted to cry. It was out of line.”
Jack sighed and turned away from his locker to face Shitty. “If Bittle can’t handle being on this team,” He began.
“He can handle being on this team, Jack.” Shitty said. “He’s doing perfectly well on this team. He’s having trouble handling you.”
“He has some serious issues as a player.”
Shitty rolled his eyes. “Oh, he has trouble getting checked. Big fucking deal. That doesn’t make him useless. He’s a solid skater. I mean, you’ve seen how fast he is. And that assist in the last game? Not everyone could have made that play.”
“Hockey is a contact sport.” Jack said firmly. “Eventually the checking thing is going to come up.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right.” Shitty conceded. “So, as his captain, I believe it’s your job to help him find a way to overcome it and support him, not make him feel like shit.”
“I’m not trying to make him feel like shit.” Jack insisted. “I’m just being realistic.”
“No, you’re being a dick.” Shitty told him. “But the thing that confuses me is that I’ve seen you deal with players with less potential than Bitty without losing your shit. Sure, patience has never exactly been one of your greatest strengths, but there have been players on this team – guys I love, don’t get me wrong – who don’t have half his talent, and you haven’t been this hard on them. So what exactly is your fucking problem?”
Honestly? Jack didn’t have a good answer for that.
It wasn’t like Bittle had ever done anything to personally offend him. He didn’t have anything against him, not really. And Shitty had a point. Outside of his checking phobia, Bittle was a good player. Inexperienced, sure, and definitely still learning. But he was clearly capable. So, frankly, Jack didn’t have an explanation for why he felt so on edge whenever Bittle was around. Stress was probably part of it. Having a player on the team who couldn’t cut it jeopardized The Plan. He knew there was more to it than that, though. He didn’t like the pit that formed in his stomach when Bittle was around. He hadn’t felt like that since…well.
Well.
No need to go down that rabbit hole right now.
“Jack?” Shitty asked impatiently, bringing Jack back to earth. Fuck. He’d been quiet too long. He had to stop doing that.
“One weak link on the team affects everyone.” He said finally.
Shitty scoffed at him. “Oh, so that’s it, huh? You’re worried he’s going to damage your precious reputation as a hockey god? Well, news flash, Zimmermann. No NHL team is going to turn you down just because one of your teammates wasn’t as good as you. Quit pinning your issues on the rest of us.” And with that, he turned and left Jack alone in the locker room.
Jack had trouble sleeping that night. It wasn’t just about what Shitty had said, although Jack acknowledged that he was probably right, and that he needed to do something about it. But there was also the nagging feeling in the back of his mind that wanted to finally be acknowledged. The one he had been ignoring for weeks now, and still didn’t quite have a name for.
Resentment?
Okay, look, he’d always resented Kent a little. He’d confess to that. Everything had always seemed so easy for him. The stuff that Jack would spend hours agonizing over barely seemed to faze him. He had apparently thrived in an environment that had been so hard for Jack that it nearly killed him. Jack had always wished he could be more like him. Bittle…well, Bittle was different.
Jack wasn’t one to make assumptions. It wasn’t any of his business, frankly. Bittle hadn’t outright said anything yet, and Jack knew better than to think a guy had to be gay because he liked baking and listened to Beyonce. But he’d known him for a while now, and he had his suspicions. Not that he cared, one way or another. But even if Bittle wasn’t gay, he at the very least was comfortable embracing who he was, within the safety of Samwell, if nothing else. Jack had never reached that point. And everyone else on the team had accepted Bittle without a second thought. It made Jack wonder what would happen if he opened up about some things. But then, following that train of thought would inevitably make him a little nauseous, and he would banish it. It wasn’t worth the risk, right?
That was definitely the only thing, he decided. That was totally the only reason that the feeling he got around Bittle reminded him of the way he used to feel around Kent. Just resentment. Not the other thing.
(Okay, fine, Bittle was cute. But that didn’t matter. Lots of people were cute.)
Finally, after hours of drifting in and out of restless sleep, Jack got out of bed. It was still dark, but he didn’t care. He wasn’t good at just lying around when he had this much on his mind. He thought about Shitty down the hall, and his feet started moving before he had even registered what he was doing.
He trusted Shitty. He had always trusted Shitty. Why shouldn’t he be honest with him?
He knocked on the door of Shitty’s room. “Hey, Shitty?” He called. And then his brain caught up with the rest of him, and he froze. No, no, no, no, no, he couldn’t do this. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. What the fuck was he doing? This was a terrible idea. He couldn’t just do this on a whim early in the morning.
He’d already knocked on the door, though, and almost certainly woken Shitty up, so he made a different decision instead. One that he felt much better about. “Which dorm does Bittle live in?” He asked.
There was a noise from the bedroom, and a moment later Shitty opened the door, still half-asleep and clearly having just staggered out of bed. “What?” He asked in confusion, rubbing his eyes.
“Bittle.” Jack said. “Which of the freshmen dorms does he live in?”
“Uh…the East Hall, I think? Yeah, I stopped by his room once. Why?”
“Don’t worry about it.” Jack told him. “He and I are going to be at Faber for a few hours if anyone needs us.”
“Brah…it’s 4 AM.” Shitty said, still looking confused. “What are you doing?”
“Taking your advice.”
The fourth time was a few weeks before graduation.
Jack nearly toppled over from the force with which Bitty threw himself at him. “Thank you!” Bitty cried as he hugged him tightly, and Jack had to catch his balance against kitchen doorframe. “Thank you so much!” His voice sounded choked, like he was already tearing up.
Recovering from his surprise, Jack returned the hug. “Of course, Bittle.” He said. “You deserve it. Although, it wasn’t just me.”
“Told you he’d cry.” Lardo said with satisfaction, crossing her arms.
Keeping Bitty out of the Haus while they’d gotten the new oven installed had been a challenge. Jack and Chowder had taken him to Annie’s and kept supplying him with coffee and conversation topics while Jack covertly texted with Ransom, who was keeping him up to date on the progress back at the Haus. Bringing Chowder had been a good move; the goalie was possibly the only person Jack had ever met who could talk more than Bitty.
Even so, Jack had gotten worried when the installation took a little longer than expected. He’d ended up dragging Bitty on a walk throughout the entirety of campus, trying to buy them extra time (“I’m about to graduate, Bittle, let me have this. I want to get sentimental.”). Stressed though he had been about the circumstances, it had actually been nice. And it worked, because Ransom had given him the all-clear just before he was about to run out of suggestions for things they could walk past. Bitty’s reaction when he’d seen the shiny new oven had been more than worth it.
Bitty pulled away from Jack, looking almost a little sheepish. “Sorry.” He said, wiping away the tears on his cheeks.
Jack grinned at him. “Don’t apologize.” He said.
Bitty turned around to look at the others all gathered in the kitchen. “Oh my god, ya’ll are amazing.” He said. “You didn’t have to do this.”
“Sure we did.” Shitty said with a smile.
“It wasn’t an entirely selfless act.” Holster said. “We all benefit greatly from your access to a quality oven.”
“Gosh, I don’t even know what to say.” Bitty said. “I should have known you were up to something. Everyone was acting so odd.”
“You noticed?” Chowder asked, looking disappointed. “Dang. I was trying so hard to act natural.”
“You asked him for an in-depth history of the pie tin.” Jack pointed out.
“I ran out of things to ask, okay? I panicked.” Chowder said defensively.
Bitty went around the room thanking everyone. When he got to Lardo, she pulled him into a hug, and said, “Everybody pitched in, but it was Jack’s idea.” Bitty glanced over to smile at Jack, and Jack couldn’t help but smile back.
“Honestly, I can’t even begin to tell y’all how grateful I am.” Bitty said once Lardo had let him go. “This is just about the nicest thing anyone’s ever done.” He turned to admire the oven again. “I need to bake a pie in this immediately.”
“We were hoping you’d say that.” Ransom said.
“Oh, lord, I’m not prepared. I didn’t think I’d have an oven to work with until I went back to Georgia. I may need to go to the store first.” Bitty said, running his hand through his hair as he tried to think about what ingredients he still had in stock.
“I’ll take you.” Jack said immediately.
Bitty grinned. “Really? Jack Zimmermann, you’re an angel. Just give me a few minutes.” He hurried out of the kitchen and ran upstairs.
The group in the kitchen started to break up. Jack moved to lean against the counter and wait for Bitty, and Shitty sidled up alongside him. “There are a lot of things I’m going to miss about Samwell.” Shitty said. “But regular access to Bitty’s pies is definitely up there.”
“I’m sure he’ll still make you whatever you want whenever you visit.” Jack said.
“Yeah.” Shitty said with a sigh. “Hey, I saw the pictures of the kitchen in your new place in Providence. It’s awfully nice. You should use it to entice him to go and cook for you.”
“I might just do that.” Jack said. He didn’t know how to explain that he had looked for a place with a nice kitchen with that precise idea in mind, but it had been less about the food and more about getting Bitty to come visit.
Shitty looked at him. “How’re you doing?” He asked.
“What do you mean?”
“What do I mean? Brah, we’re about to graduate! Leave the world of college behind and plunge headfirst into the terrifying world of actual adulthood! Not to mention, you’re literally about to fulfill one of your fondest dreams. You’re a Providence Falconer, dude.”
“I haven’t actually played with them yet.” Jack pointed out.
“Pfft. You signed. Makes it official in my book.” Shitty dismissed. “The point is, I know it all can be a little much. I just thought I should check in and see how you’re feeling about all of it.”
Ah. Jack should have expected that. Shitty had always been good about keeping an eye on him if he thought there was a chance his anxiety would start getting to him. Jack smiled. “Honestly? I feel pretty good.”
“You should, man!” Shitty cried enthusiastically. “You worked hard for this! You deserve it.”
“Thanks.” Jack glanced around the kitchen, taking it in. “It will be weird leaving this place, though.” He admitted. “I’ll miss it.”
“Yeah, you and me both.” Shitty said. “Any regrets? Anything you wish you’d done while you were here, but never did?”
Jack hesitated. The truth was that yes, he did have his regrets, for better or for worse. There was a lot about his first few years at Samwell that he wished he could change, or at the very least go back and kick himself for. But he knew that it wouldn’t do him any good to dwell on his hockey-tunnel-vision, or his initial resistance to making friends, or how he had treated Bitty. There was one other thing that came to mind, however.
Four years was a long time to be at one of the most LGBTQ+ friendly schools in the country without coming out to a single person. Especially when your best friend was a “Guru of Sexual Acceptance” (he had actually heard Bitty call him that once). And yes, he knew that there should never be pressure one anyone to come out. But he felt a twinge of regret about being too scared to do it even once.
Well, he hadn’t graduated yet. And Shitty was right there.
Jack cleared his throat. “Well, actually,” He began, and then Bitty came running back into the kitchen.
“You ready to go, Jack?” He asked brightly.
Jack had no doubt that Bitty would give him and Shitty another minute if he asked for it. But maybe Jack was still a little scared, or maybe he was just really excited to hang out with Bitty some more, because suddenly opening up to Shitty didn’t feel nearly as important as it had a few moments ago. “Sure, Bittle.” He said with a fond smile. “Let’s go.”
The fifth time had been after Bitty asked him about it.
“What about you? Who was the first person you told?” Bitty asked. It was a few months into their relationship, and Bitty had come to stay with Jack for the weekend. They were sitting on the couch in the living room, a baking competition show still playing on the TV, although they had stopped paying attention to it a while ago. Jack wasn’t entirely sure how their conversation had drifted to their individual closeted experiences, but he didn’t mind. Bitty was someone he wanted to tell everything. That was a new feeling for him.
“Uh, Kent, I guess.” Jack said. “I mean, I guess I didn’t tell him, technically, but I think it…became fairly obvious after a point. And then my parents found out, after the whole thing fell apart. I didn’t really tell them either, they just sort of put the pieces together after it became clear that there was more to my relationship with Parse than I had let on. Then…you. Although, again, I suppose that wasn’t telling so much as it was, uh, showing.”
“Uh-huh.” Bitty said with a grin. “I’ll say.”
“So, I guess I’ve never really told anyone.” Jack said. “You know, like how they do in the movies, where they just come straight out with it.”
“That’s okay.” Bitty said. “Not everybody needs or wants that. It’s all about how the individual person finds acceptance with themselves. See, me, I was the opposite. Because I always knew, you know? I mean, I was still pretty young when I started to figure it out. But I don’t think I really accepted it until I told Shitty. Something about finally saying out loud, to another person, just made it click. It felt right. I needed that.”
“Yeah, I get that.” Jack said. “And Shitty is really good at being that person for people. He always has been.”
Bitty nodded. “Definitely. When I finally decided that I had to just take the plunge and tell someone on the team, there was no doubt in my mind that it had to be Shitty. No offense.”
“None taken. I know I wasn’t exactly your favorite person back then.”
There was silence for a moment, until Bitty hesitantly said, “Hey, can I ask you a personal question?”
“Of course.”
“I know it’s not really my business, and you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, because you shouldn’t have to explain yourself, but I’m curious. Why didn’t you ever tell Shitty? I mean, I realize we just established that you’re not required to formally come out to people if you don’t want to, but you actively hid from him. And I get why you didn’t want most people to know, but I know you trust him. And he cares about you and would support you. Obviously, you don’t have to tell anyone, but honestly, it surprised me a little when I realized he didn’t know. He knows you better than anyone.”
“I don’t really know, if I’m being honest.” Jack sighed. “I thought about telling him a couple of times. The part of me that wanted to have someone to confide in was at war with the part of me that was terrified of anybody knowing. I would come close to saying the words, and then I would panic. Maybe I just wasn’t ready.”
Bitty reached over and took his hand. “Everybody moves at their own pace.” He said wisely. “Someday you’ll be able to tell him.”
“Someday I might be able to tell more than just him.” Jack said. Bitty’s eyes lit up, and he slid closer so he could rest his head against Jack’s shoulder. Jack placed a kiss on the top of his head. “You’ve become pretty good with helping with this sort of thing too, you know.” He said. “Shitty will be very proud.”
About a week later, Shitty came out to Providence to watch one of Jack’s games, and the two of them went to have dinner afterwards. After they had sufficiently worn themselves out talking about the season so far and how the SMH team was doing and Shitty’s annoying professors, Shitty took a sip of his beer and then looked at Jack across the table. “So. What’s new with you?”
Jack raised his eyebrows. “I just gave you the entire rundown of the season so far.” He said uncertainty.
Shitty rolled his eyes. “I meant in your personal life, Jack. Stuff outside of hockey? Come on. There must be something.”
Jack shrugged. “I’ve been kind of busy.” He said. “Not a lot of time for other stuff.”
“Really?” Shitty asked skeptically. “Nothing at all? It doesn’t have to be big. New hobby? New friend? New coffee shop you like to go to? Anything? Live a little, Zimmermann. Dating life? Tater is always teasing you about a girlfriend in those Falconers videos. There’s got to be someone. Talk to me.”
Jack tried not to wince. There it was again. The assumption that he had a girlfriend. And for the first time in his life, he desperately, desperately wanted to correct him. He wanted to tell Shitty the truth and let him know exactly who he was and who he was madly in love with. He wasn’t scared. He was ready.
Except this time, he actually couldn’t. Because now there were real things at stake. Because they were sitting in a crowded restaurant, in the city he played in for the NHL, and anyone could recognize him, and anyone could overhear. Because now he had Bitty to think about, not to mention his own career. Because none of their other friends knew, and he hated to put Shitty in the position where he had to lie about something like that too.
Someday. He’d come out to him someday. But not today.
So instead, he just said, “Two can play at this game, you know. How are things with Lardo?”
Shitty faltered. “That’s…we’re not…that’s different.”
“Hypocrite.”
The funny thing was, in all the excitement of Bitty and Jack coming out to the team, he and Shitty never actually had that moment.
They talked. Shitty apologized for past assumptions that he had made, and Jack finally got to talk about Bitty and express how happy he was. It had been a great day. Jack wouldn’t trade it for anything. But he still never actually said it. Bitty was right, of course. Not everybody needed to say it. But Jack was starting to think he was one of the people who did.
It wasn’t until a few weeks later that he finally had that revelation, though. Shitty had come to see Jack in Providence again, and it was the first time Jack had someone over without having to do anything to hide Bitty’s frequent presence in the apartment. A hockey game was on, and pizza had been ordered (Jack’s nutritionist would be pissed, but Jack couldn’t find it in himself to care), and Shitty was ranting about this guy in one of his classes who just wouldn’t shut up. They could almost be back in the old days.
“I swear, the guy practically has ‘evil corporate lawyer in training’ written across his forehead.” Shitty was complaining. “It’s unbearable.”
“Hey, Shitty?” Jack said suddenly, interrupting for the first time in a while. Shitty looked at him in mild surprise from the other end of the couch.
“Yeah?”
“I’m bi.”
Shitty slowly grinned. “Cool, man. Good for you.”
“Thanks.” Jack said, feeling lighter than he had in years. “Sorry, keeping going. What did he say to you yesterday?”
And that was that.