Chapter Fifteen
As they entered the gallery together, Eric reminded himself for the hundredth time that this wasn’t a date.
“Hello?” Eric called out into the empty room. He heard the clacking of stiletto heels against the concrete floor, and then Jeanette appeared from the back room.
“Eric!” She embraced him and kissed his cheek, then turned to Kyle.
“And who is this?”
“Jeanette, this is my friend Kyle. He’s studying art history at Columbia.”
He hoped he hadn’t tripped over the word friend. Not that it was a lie.
“Kyle, this is Jeanette Saint-Georges, my friend and the owner of this gallery.”
“I’ve walked by so many times and never been in,” Kyle said, shaking her hand. “It’s a beautiful space.”
“Thank you, and it’s lovely to meet you. It’s been a long time since Eric has brought a friend here.” She shot Eric a look that held a question he had no intention of answering. God, was he really so transparent? He’d never said anything to her that would suggest he was attracted to men. Did she just know? Would anyone he introduced Kyle to suspect that Eric was sleeping with him?
He averted her gaze and asked, “How was the opening?”
“Wonderful. We sold everything.”
“I’m not surprised.”
“Neither am I. But everyone was jealous of you. Your piece was the showstopper.”
“I can’t wait to see it,” Kyle said. “Eric has great taste.”
Jeanette eyed him appraisingly, as if she was considering exhibiting Kyle in her next show. “He certainly does have an eye for beauty.”
Heat raced up the back of Eric’s neck. She definitely suspected. She had to. Bringing Kyle here was a bad idea. Even if he and Kyle were actually dating—if Kyle were his boyfriend—it would be easier. He didn’t want to tell people that Kyle was a friend who was giving him some hands-on sexual education.
A much younger friend.
Christ, what was Eric doing?
Jeanette led them to the second room, and Eric walked behind both of them, trying to sort out his feelings. Trying to get a grip.
He thought he might be under control right up until the moment when Kyle spotted the painting Eric had bought. Kyle’s face lit up, and Eric’s heart fluttered traitorously.
“Oh wow,” Kyle said in a reverent whisper. “It’s stunning.”
“Yes,” Eric said quietly. As Kyle examined the painting, Eric examined Kyle. His long fingers were curled in front of his plush lips in contemplation, and his hip was jutting slightly to one side. Why was everything about him so fascinating?
His mind wandered back to Sunday night, when those fingers had been curled around Eric’s cock. Had been holding that wonderful toy steady while Eric fucked it. He remembered those same plush lips suckling the head of his cock, brushing soft kisses over his skin. Those same hips writhing in his lap as Kyle climaxed while Eric held him close.
Then he noticed that Jeanette and Kyle were both looking at him, and it was clear by their expressions that they were waiting for him to respond to something. “Pardon?”
“I asked Kyle if you’ve shown him any of your photography.”
“I said just one piece, but I’d love to see more,” Kyle said.
“Oh.” Eric felt uncomfortable having his hobby discussed as if he were a great talent. Especially in the presence of such exquisite actual art. “It’s more of the same. I’m a tourist with a camera. Sometimes I get lucky.”
“Luck has nothing to do with it,” Jeanette scoffed.
“Well,” Eric said slowly, “if I have any talent at all, it’s patience. I suppose that’s useful, when it comes to photography.”
“Patience and attention to detail,” Jeanette said. She nudged Kyle. “This one doesn’t miss a thing, you know.”
Kyle didn’t say anything, but he held Eric’s gaze while his lips curved into a slow, sexy smile. Eric quickly turned his attention to the painting, because it was safer territory. After that smile, however, the colors on the canvas seemed drab.
Kyle moved to stand right next to Eric, and they both studied the painting in silence. After a minute, Eric turned and was surprised to see that Jeanette had left at some point.
“Where are you going to hang it?” Kyle asked. His voice was hushed even though they were alone.
“My living room. I want to rearrange the space so this will be the focal
point.”
“You’re going to spoil it rotten.”
“It deserves it.”
Kyle laughed quietly. “Thank you for showing it to me.”
Eric wanted to show him so much. Everything. He wanted to see his face light up in every gallery in the world. Every museum. Every historic site and breathtaking view. “I’m glad you came. You should look at the rest.”
They spent another twenty minutes or so examining the art and discussing each piece. Finally Kyle grinned at him and said, “Is it
empanada time?”
“Definitely.”
They thanked Jeanette and she hugged both of them before they left.
When they were outside, Kyle said, “That was nice.”
“The gallery?”
“Yes, but... I meant the overall experience of going to a gallery with you.”
Eric’s heart flipped. “I liked it too. I mean, I like spending time with you.”
Kyle smiled at him, and Eric considered kissing him. But Kyle stepped back and said, “Empanadas! Let’s go.”
Kyle smelled the delicious aroma of spiced meat and fresh-baked dough before he even opened the door of the Córdoba Bakery. He stepped into the welcome warmth of the cramped, brightly colored Argentinian bakery, holding the door for Eric. As Eric brushed past him, Kyle reminded himself, again, that this wasn’t a date.
Valentina, who owned the bakery with her husband, greeted Kyle in Spanish, and they made small talk for a minute in her native tongue. He hadn’t been kidding when he’d told Eric he came here all the time. He ordered his usual—four spicy beef empanadas; two to eat now, one to give to Maria, and one for later. He assumed he’d be heading home after this. He
and Eric hadn’t made plans to do...other stuff. And if Maria heard he went here and didn’t bring her back an empanada, she would be furious.
“Siempre tan predecible,” Valentina teased him. “Es uno para Maria?”
“Si tiene suerte.”
She glanced at Eric over his shoulder, seemingly recognizing him, and switched to English. “Grilled vegetable, right?”
“Right,” Eric confirmed. A grilled vegetable empanada sounded like a waste of dough to Kyle, but it was probably the least healthy thing that Eric allowed himself to eat.
“Do you know each other?” Valentina asked. “I see you both all the time, but not together.”
“We’re friends,” Kyle said, throwing Eric a grin over his shoulder.
Valentina handed Kyle a paper bag that was stuffed with piping-hot empanadas. As always, she had “secretly” added two free dessert empanadas to his order. Kyle, as always, was pretty happy about it. Eric got his order, and they moved out of the way for the next customer. Córdoba was a popular spot.
Kyle gestured to a miraculously empty table. “Should we sit?”
Eric nodded. “Yeah, okay.”
He seemed uncharacteristically nervous. Kyle had noticed it at the gallery as well. Was it because Jeanette had been subtly teasing him about Kyle?
Was Eric embarrassed to be seen with him? Stressed out about people suspecting?
Kyle wanted to tell him not to worry about any of that, but a cramped bakery wasn’t the place to discuss it. Especially not since four more customers had just walked in, filling most of the middle of the shop.
He wasn’t sure what exactly Eric wanted. Their last time together had been hot as fuck, and Kyle was pretty sure they’d both thought so. But that wasn’t what had been making Kyle’s head spin for days. It was how hard it had been for Kyle to leave that night. How he’d been dying to stay in Eric’s bed, not for sex, but because he wanted to be held by him. He wanted to fall asleep in his arms and wake up to his tender kisses. He wanted to talk as they ate breakfast and planned their day together.
And all of that was exactly why Kyle should be putting some distance between himself and Eric. He was in danger of falling for this man, and that was a mistake Kyle wasn’t willing to make. For one thing, Eric didn’t seem quite ready to be in a public relationship with a man. For another, he clearly
wasn’t comfortable with the age gap between them. He probably managed to convince himself that it wasn’t a big deal when they were in Eric’s bed, or when they were visiting a gallery together, but Kyle knew how fragile it was. Eric could decide at any time that Kyle was too young, too male, too...ridiculous for Eric to be in a relationship of any kind with. Kyle would rather not have his heart invested when that happened.
He watched Eric pull one of the empanadas out of his paper bag and take a bite. He closed his eyes and sighed happily around his mouthful of grilled vegetables. He had flakes of pastry clinging to his lips that Kyle couldn’t look away from.
Eric swallowed and said, “God, that’s good.” The tip of his tongue darted out to remove the crumbs from his lips.
“Yeah,” Kyle agreed, even though he hadn’t even taken his empanada out of the bag yet.
“Are you going to eat?” Eric asked before taking a second bite. Kyle snapped out of it and reached into his own paper bag. He was, in fact, starving, but he was apprehensive about digging into his lunch in front of Eric. It seemed rude to cram his mouth full of beef in front of a vegetarian.
“I don’t mind,” Eric said, as if reading his mind. “Eat. Please.”
Kyle obeyed, sinking his teeth into the warm, buttery crust and then into the spicy, cheesy deliciousness within. He groaned a little more orgasmically than he’d meant to, but fuck, those empanadas were good.
He grabbed a napkin from the dispenser on the table and dabbed delicately at his lips. “I love these empanadas,” Kyle said sheepishly.
“I liked listening to you order them.” Eric’s eyes looked a shade darker than they’d been a moment ago. Kyle shifted in his seat.
“Yeah?”
“It was impressive. I speak very little Spanish.”
“Well, you know. I was young and had dreams of marrying Diego Luna.”
Eric studied him a moment with those sharp, espresso eyes, as if he wasn’t sure if Kyle was kidding or not. Then his lips curved up into that sexy hint of a smile he liked to torture Kyle with, and Kyle turned his attention to the last bite of his empanada. His safe, uncomplicated empanada.
“Your semester must be almost over,” Eric said.
Kyle swallowed his food. “Yeah. Next week.”
“You don’t seem stressed out about it.”
“It’s just one class. I have a term paper to hand in, but it’s pretty much done. Just fine tuning it.”
Eric was smiling at him again. “What?” Kyle asked.
“I’ll bet you’re a good writer.”
Kyle shrugged. “I’m all right. Fast, usually. I enjoy the research more
than the writing.”
“I did too, when I was in school.”
“I think you’re the first Harvard grad I’ve met who says school instead of Harvard,” Kyle teased.
Eric grabbed a napkin and wiped his fingers. “I went there for hockey, not because I’m a genius.”
Kyle huffed. “Right. And did all of your teammates at Harvard
graduate?”
Eric hesitated, then admitted, “No.”
“And how many NHL players have Harvard degrees?”
Eric balled up his napkin and set it on his empty paper bag. “Currently?”
“Sure. Or, hell, how many have ever had Harvard degrees?”
Eric’s lips twisted, then he said, “Just me, currently, I think. And maybe...
I don’t know. Three? Five? Ever? I’m really not sure.”
“So we’re agreed then? You’re extraordinary.”
Eric shook his head, but his eyes sparkled. “I like to read. That doesn’t make me extraordinary.”
Everything about Eric was extraordinary. Kyle was struck with an overwhelming sense of disbelief that the man eating empanadas with him was really Eric Bennett. How was this Kyle’s real life?
They’d both finished eating, and Kyle found himself clamoring to come up with a reason to prolong their time together. “There’s a great café on the next block,” he said.
Eric gave him a warm smile that turned Kyle’s heart to mush. “I could go for a coffee.”
They decided to take the coffee to go and walk on the High Line. As they strolled along the trail, Kyle sipped his latte and hunched his shoulders against the cold. He’d been out of Vermont for too long, for the cold to be bothering him this much.
“So why aren’t you dating Jeanette?” Kyle asked. “She seems amazing.”
“She is,” Eric agreed, “but her wife wouldn’t like that.”
“Ah.” Kyle found he wasn’t too sad about that. “Did your ex get some of your art collection in the divorce?”
“We split everything fairly. There were a couple of pieces that she liked more than I did, so she took those. I let her have most of the furniture from our old house. I wanted to start fresh.”
“That must have been rough.” Kyle had never been part of a breakup that had stuff involved. He couldn’t imagine having that stress heaped on top of heartbreak.
“It wasn’t so bad. Holly and I are both pretty low-drama. She comes from money anyway, so the financial side wasn’t as big a deal as it might have been otherwise. I was pretty indifferent to splitting everything up.” He huffed. “I guess I was pretty indifferent to the entire marriage, especially for the last few years. We both were.”
Kyle had only been in relationships that burned white hot, then extinguished quickly and—for himself, anyway—unexpectedly. “So it wasn’t a surprise? The divorce?”
“Not really. Again, I wasn’t really paying attention, so if it came as a surprise it was only because of that. Holly wasn’t angry with me. She sat me down one evening and gently pointed out that there was no reason for us to stay married.” He smiled wistfully. “She was always so organized. She presented a very compelling argument, and when she was done I told her she was right. We hugged, and the next morning we started the process.”
“Wow. I don’t think that’s usually how divorce goes.”
“Probably not. We’re still friendly, though. And she has a new boyfriend.
Nice guy.”
They walked in silence for a moment. “Would she be surprised if you had one?” Kyle asked. “A boyfriend?”
Eric took his time answering, as if he’d never considered the idea. “I
think she would be very surprised.”
“Does that matter to you?”
“I honestly don’t know. I do care what other people think, typically. And
I don’t like that kind of attention.”
“Right,” Kyle said tightly.
“If I were in a relationship with a man, someone I was in love with, it might be different, I guess. Maybe I wouldn’t care what other people think,
if I felt that strongly about someone.”
If. If Eric met someone who met his standards. Someone he could be proud to introduce as his boyfriend. Someone who wasn’t Kyle.
Kyle forced himself to ignore the bitterness that had crept in. “Feel free to introduce me as your friend-slash-sex instructor,” he joked.
Eric did that small, half-suppressed smile thing that Kyle loved. “I really do appreciate your...assistance.”
“It hasn’t been a chore.” The truth was it had been the best thing in Kyle’s life lately. He was halfheartedly finishing his final essay for a class he barely cared about, and dragging himself to a job that would be a lot more fun if his boss gave a shit about the bar or any of his staff’s suggestions. On top of that, he hadn’t been hooking up with anyone besides Eric for reasons he didn’t want to examine, and he was facing another lonely Christmas in Manhattan.
As if reading his mind, Eric asked, “Do you have plans for Christmas?”
“Nope. Just watching movies or whatever.”
Kyle could tell Eric was carefully trying to find his way to the questions he really wanted to ask. “Do you talk to your parents much?”
“Not really.” They stopped at an overlook, and Kyle braced himself for the question he knew was coming.
“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to talk about it, but...” Eric started. “Your family. Is it because you’re gay? Is that why they’ve...”
“Cast me out?” Kyle finished for him.
Eric’s eyes looked so sad. “Yes.”
Kyle sighed. “Not officially, no. At least, it’s not the only reason. I think it’s part of the reason, no matter what they say.” He ran a fingertip over the ridges of his coffee cup sleeve. “I guess I’ll never really know.”
Eric was quiet, his gaze fixed at the street below, and Kyle knew he was trying not to push for more information. For some reason, Kyle wanted to offer it up voluntarily. It had been a long time since he’d told anyone about the most shameful chapter of his life.
“I caused a bit of a scandal, back in little ol’ Shaw, Vermont.” Kyle worked hard to keep his tone breezy, as if this wasn’t killing him to admit to someone as impressive as Eric Bennett. “I was in a...relationship...with a
man who was my boss at the time.”
“Oh.”
“He was married. To a woman, I mean. And he had two kids.”
“Oh,” Eric said again, this time more gravely. “I see.”
One of Eric’s hands gripped the railing so tightly, Kyle was sure his knuckles were white under his glove. Kyle wasn’t surprised—it couldn’t be pleasant to learn that the man you’ve been spending time with was a monster.
“And,” he continued, because Eric deserved to know how bad it got, “I knew. Just to be clear, I knew he had a family, but he told me he loved me, and I believed it.” He laughed darkly. “I’d never been with anyone before. I thought I was in love.”
Eric’s jaw was tense, as if he was gritting his teeth. “How old were you?”
“I had just turned eighteen.”
“Jesus.”
“His wife found out, and then the whole town. There were...photographs.
Video.”
Eric shook his head, his gaze fixed on something in the distance. Kyle took a slow, stabilizing breath. “After that, my parents felt it was best that I leave town. I know they wanted to protect me, but they also...couldn’t stand the sight of me.”
Kyle didn’t want to talk about how any of it had felt. How his fragile, teenage heart had been crushed when Ian had abruptly shut him out completely, and then he’d had to face his parents. God, he’d been a wreck.
Heartbroken, devastated, and so, so ashamed. He’d gone from being “that sweet boy, Kyle Swift” to being a depraved sexual vampire, preying on the most respectable man in town. To being the boy in those pictures.
Kyle waited, now, for Eric to walk away from him. For him to tear into him for being so stupid and selfish. Eric had been married. He would be able to relate to Ian’s wife.
“Kyle,” Eric said. His voice was soft, and Kyle wished it wasn’t. It would be easier if he’d just yell at him. “You know that you’re not the villain in
that story, right?”
“I’m not the hero.”
Eric turned to face him. “You were a kid.”
“Not according to the law.” Kyle realized, now that he was a bit older, that Ian’s behavior had perhaps been worse than his own. Kyle should have said no to his advances, but Ian shouldn’t have made them in the first place.
Kyle knew, in his heart, that he would never have attempted to seduce Ian.
He wouldn’t have even known how to.
“You were a kid,” Eric said again, more firmly. “And that guy took advantage of you.”
“Well. I was certainly a willing participant.”
“He was your boss. I think it’s normal for younger people to develop...crushes...on older people who they admire. Authority figures, even. But it’s up to the older people to not indulge it. A coach should never sleep with a player, even if the player wants to.”
Damn. Eric was making a lot of sense. But Kyle still had arguments to make.
“So people should only date people their own age?”
Eric grimaced, then said, “I think it depends on the situation. But maybe, most of the time, yes. It’s probably best.”
Kyle turned his gaze to the ground. He already knew how Eric felt about dating a younger man, so it shouldn’t sting this much to hear it now. Kyle was feeling a lot of things at once, and he preferred to feel nothing at all. It was safer.
“Anyway,” he said, forcing cheerfulness as he raised his head. “It’s all in the past now. I learned some lessons. Maybe he did too.” Had Kyle actually learned anything, though? He still let his heart make terrible decisions. He still lusted over older men.
God, Eric should run as far as he could from Kyle.
But Eric wasn’t running. In fact, he was setting his coffee cup down on a bench and approaching Kyle with open arms. Kyle set his own cup down and accepted Eric’s hug. Eric’s arms were strong and they tightened firmly around Kyle’s shoulders and around his back. Kyle’s face was pressed into the solid warmth of Eric’s shoulder, and he allowed himself to close his eyes and breathe in Eric’s scent for a moment.
“I’m sorry that was your first experience with, um...”
“Sex? Love? Men? It was. All of that.”
“I’m sorry.”
Kyle blinked rapidly against the burning behind his eyes. It’s not like no one had been sympathetic about this before. Maria had said all of this to him and more. Kip didn’t know about it, because Kyle had never been able to bring himself to tell him. He probably assumed that Kyle’s parents were homophobes. Maybe they were.
“Let’s keep walking.” Kyle was glad his voice was so steady. He felt like he was crumbling apart inside.
“Okay.”
They broke apart and Eric retrieved both of their coffees from the bench.
He handed Kyle’s cup to him, and Kyle wanted to take his hand. He wanted to hold it as they walked, and enjoy the comfort he often got from physical connection. He shoved his free hand in his pocket.
Eric was stiff and quiet as they walked, his jaw set and his gaze fixed on something far ahead of them. Kyle suspected that, despite the support and comfort Eric had shown him after he’d told his story, it was hard to overlook the fact that Kyle was a homewrecker. That Kyle had been selfish, and stupid, and was lucky to still be getting financial help from his parents.
There was nothing impressive about him. He was a rich kid who’d taught himself languages because he’d been lonely and bored: first as a gay teenager in a very small town, then as a nervous country mouse living alone in Manhattan.
“I should get home,” Eric said suddenly.
Of course. “There’s a subway station near here.” Kyle pointed to a stairway that would take them back down to street level. “Just down there.”
He followed Eric down the stairs. They realized, when they got inside the station, that they’d be taking the E train in opposite directions. There was an awkward moment where Kyle thought about kissing Eric, but decided not to. Even a kiss on the cheek seemed like a privilege he didn’t deserve right now.
Eric nodded at him. “I had a nice time, Kyle. Thank you.”
“Me too.” Kyle’s throat felt tight, but he managed the two words without giving away his misery, he thought.
A minute later, they stood on opposite sides of the wide chasm of train tracks. Eric was looking at his phone, and Kyle was looking at Eric. He wondered, as the train pulled into the station and blocked his view of him, if he’d ever hear from Eric again.