Chapter Seven
On Thursday night, Kyle followed Maria up the front steps of Eric’s townhouse. Because of course he’d decided to go to the party.
Here was the thing: by trying to make the right choices, Kyle realized he was actually making terrible choices that alienated him from his friends.
And prevented him from making new friends. He reminded himself that not everything needed to be about sex. Kip was a wonderful friend, and Eric seemed like a very nice guy who was intelligent and lovely to talk to. There was absolutely no reason to avoid any of that.
And Kyle had totally convinced himself of all of that right up until the moment Eric answered the door. Because holy hot damn. Eric, who, as far as Kyle could tell, never wore anything less formal than tailored slacks and a dress shirt, was wearing dark jeans and a charcoal T-shirt that clung to his broad, muscular chest and fluttered over his flat stomach. When Kyle’s gaze made its way back up to Eric’s face, he found him studying him before his eyes widened in recognition. “Kyle?”
“Surprise,” Kyle said weakly. It looked like Eric was letting his beard fill in a bit, which was definitely a good look on him.
“I almost didn’t recognize you.”
Kyle grinned. “I know. I look different when I’m not at work.”
“You do. It took me a moment.” Eric tapped his own eyebrow. “Glasses.”
“Yeah, I um, I never wear them when I’m at the bar, but this is basically what I look like most of the time.”
Eric was staring at his face as if he couldn’t quite believe Kyle was the same person who served him sodas with lime. “You look good,” he finally said. “In glasses, I mean.”
Kyle enjoyed Eric’s brief and bashful smile. “Thank you.”
“I can take that bag for you,” Eric said. “And your coat.”
Kyle set the heavy bag he’d been carrying on the floor and removed his jacket. “Nice try, but the bag has a surprise in it.” He’d vowed to be playful, pleasant, and not overtly flirtatious tonight.
“I don’t normally like surprises, but I’ll admit I’m intrigued.” He held Kyle’s gaze as he took his coat and draped it over his arm. His eyes danced,
even as the rest of his face stayed neutral. It was unfairly sexy.
“Hi,” Maria said. “Maria is here.”
That made Eric’s cheeks turn pink. “I’m sorry. Nice to see you again, Maria. Let me take your coat.”
Maria removed her coat, and Kyle stifled a laugh when Eric’s eyes widened at the sight of her outfit. Maria had come to play tonight. Her breasts were pushed up to show maximum cleavage over the deep-V neckline of her black sweater dress. She looked fantastic, with the dress hugging her curves and her flawless hair and makeup. She may have only been five-foot-one in a house full of tall, athletic men, but Kyle fully expected her to stand out tonight.
For his own part, Kyle had kept it casual in a way that announced that he was not here to seduce anyone. He wore his most comfortable faded jeans with a long-sleeve blue T-shirt, had a scarf bunched around his neck, and finished the look with his second-favorite glasses. He was dressed to fade into the background and be a temptation to no one.
Kyle looked incredible. Eric’s heart had started skipping in his chest the moment he recognized the man behind the glasses. He loved this version of him: the sweet, artistic grad student. He was pretty into all versions of Kyle, if he was being honest, but he was so damn cute in those glasses.
And he’d brought Eric a surprise.
He watched as Kyle retrieved the mystery bag from the floor, unable to take his eyes off him. “Where’s the kitchen?” Kyle asked.
“I’ll show you.” He gestured for Kyle to follow him. Maria, who looked like a bombshell tonight, had already headed to the basement, where most of the party guests were. The kitchen was one story above them, so Eric led Kyle to the staircase. When Eric turned on the lights in the stairway, Kyle gasped.
“These are stunning!” Eric had three paintings displayed on the wall leading up to the next floor. They were abstracts, all by the same artist from the same series.
“Aren’t they?” Eric agreed. “These were the first paintings Jeanette ever showed me. I knew I’d found my dealer after that.”
Kyle leaned against the opposite wall with his feet planted at different heights on two different steps. He was smiling at the art, his face lit up the same way Eric’s had been when he’d first seen the paintings himself. The way Eric’s face was probably lit up right now watching Kyle.
“I love the orange in this one,” Kyle said, pointing to the one Eric had hung in the middle.
“That one’s my favorite.” Eric realized they were both speaking in hushed tones. Everyone was either on the first or basement floors, so the floor above them was completely empty. The situation suddenly seemed very intimate.
Kyle turned to face him, and his face changed. It was like the light had suddenly gone out, the corners of his mouth turned down and his eyes looked almost scared. Eric shifted so he wasn’t leaning quite so close.
“So,” Kyle said. It wasn’t the husky whisper he’d been using a moment ago. This was bright and loud and jarring. “Where’s the kitchen?” Without waiting for an answer, he turned and headed up the rest of the stairs.
Of course. Eric’s attraction to Kyle was probably written all over his face. His old, divorced, boring face. Kyle couldn’t be blamed for being uncomfortable.
Be cool, Eric instructed himself. You are in control of your feelings, your body, and your libido. He took a centering breath, then followed Kyle up the stairs. Kyle had found the kitchen, which made sense since it took up most of this floor. He set the bag on one of the counters and looked around.
“You’re having a party and your kitchen is this spotless?”
“The food is catered. I ordered from a barbecue restaurant the guys like.”
“Uh huh. And what are you going to eat?”
“They have a kale salad I like.”
Kyle smiled but didn’t say anything about that as he began pulling bottles out of the bag and setting them on the counter. The last thing he pulled out was a cocktail shaker. “I wasn’t sure you’d own one yourself,” he said,
holding it up.
“I do. But what is all this?”
“A birthday present. Just wait.”
Eric got a hit of that fizzing sensation in his blood when Kyle winked at him then. “Do you need ice?”
“Yes, please.” Kyle set everything up on the kitchen island like it was a bar, so Eric filled a bowl with ice and then sat himself at one of the stools
on the other side.
“I have a friend who makes incredible fermented juices and sodas,” Kyle said as he cracked open a tall glass bottle full of vibrant, yellow liquid.
“Here, smell this.” He held out the bottle and Eric sniffed. It was warm and
spicy and familiar.
“Ginger?” He asked.
Kyle nodded. “It’s a fermented ginger and turmeric tonic. Delicious, healthy and the main component of your birthday mocktail.”
“Birthday mocktail?” Eric was touched. He’d planned on drinking soda water tonight.
“I figured you might like fermented juice. You seem, y’know...”
“Like a health nut?”
“Like someone who takes care of himself,” Kyle said with another wink as he measured out a small amount of a syrupy, light brown liquid from a second bottle. It was weird, having bartender Kyle and daytime Kyle blend into this single person in Eric’s kitchen. Eric missed the short sleeves of the tight, white T-shirts that Kyle normally wore at work. He’d be able to see the slight bulge of Kyle’s biceps right now as he shook the cocktail shaker.
Kyle held up a finger and went to Eric’s cupboards, opening doors until he found what he wanted. He came back to the island with a rocks glass, then tossed some ice cubes into it. “I hope you like this. I made a test one for myself earlier today.”
“You didn’t have to go to so much trouble.”
“It’s not trouble. I love inventing cocktails, with or without alcohol. I’m trying to convince my boss, Gus, to introduce an artisanal cocktail menu at the Kingfisher. He’s pretty happy just serving beer and basic bitch mixed
drinks, though.”
“What about the Scott Hunter cocktail?”
Kyle smiled as he strained the contents of the shaker into the glass. “That was my creation. I put it on the chalkboard one night and it’s been there ever since. Gus is terrible at marketing, but even he had to see the value of promoting the bar’s connection to New York’s favorite gay hockey star.”
“Did Kip know about the cocktail? Before you put it on the board, I mean?”
“I ran it by him. He was pretty thrilled about the idea. He suggested making it with blueberry juice. I think it’s an inside thing with those two.”
He slid the glass toward Eric. “Maybe we can call this one the Eric Bennett.”
Eric lifted the glass and admired the cloudy, yellow color of the liquid inside. He took a sip and tasted the sharp bite of the ginger, the warmth of the turmeric, and something sweet that balanced it all out. It was delicious.
“That’s incredible,” Eric said. “Is there something sweet in there, or is that the tonic?”
“It’s a pineapple syrup that I made. You like it?”
Eric took another sip, closing his eyes this time and savoring the perfect blend of flavors. He swallowed and said, “I really do. Thank you.”
Kyle beamed. “I can make a few more with the supplies I brought. I’ll keep you plied with them all night, if you like.”
“You don’t have to. But if one finds its way into my hand, I’ll definitely drink it.” He tilted his head toward the stairs. “There’s a bar downstairs.
And a stocked beer fridge.”
Kyle followed him to the stairs. “Why do you have a bar and a beer fridge if you don’t drink?”
“Because all of my friends are hockey players.”
“Except the ones who are art dealers?”
“The non-hockey friends are a small and very separate group. Tonight it’s just hockey and hockey-adjacent, I’m afraid.”
“Is that me? Hockey-adjacent?”
Eric paused at the landing in the middle of the stairs and turned back toward Kyle. “Technically I met you through hockey, but...” He stopped himself because there was no non-intense way to finish that sentence. If he was answering as honestly as possible, the sentence would have ended with something like I think I might be able to be my whole self with you.
“But?” Kyle asked. His pale blue eyes sparkled under his glasses.
Eric shook his head, trying to appear calm and collected even as his heart rate accelerated. “Nothing. Let’s get you a drink. Do you like barbecue?”
“Only if there’s kale salad.”
Eric laughed. He loved the way Kyle teased him. It was playful and almost fond, as if they were old friends. “I’m sure there’s plenty of salad left over.”
Kyle really had no idea what he was doing at this party, but the stolen time alone with Eric in the kitchen was...nice. He’d felt sort of warm and buzzy since they’d joined the party in the basement, even though Eric had been pulled away from him immediately by a couple of women, who were probably wives or girlfriends of his teammates.
Kyle was now sitting on a sectional sofa with Scott, Kip, Carter, and an attractive Swedish hockey player whose name Kyle kept forgetting. He looked about Kyle’s age.
Kyle knew Carter Vaughan because he often accompanied Scott when he’d visit Kip at the Kingfisher. Carter and Eric were Scott’s best friends on the team, but the two men couldn’t be more different. Carter was loud and fun, always the life of the party. He loved food and top shelf spirits, often giving Kyle shit about the subpar whiskey selection at the Kingfisher.
Carter, like most of the party guests, was closer to Kyle’s age than Eric’s.
He was movie-star handsome, with dark skin and a strong jaw that was usually clean shaven. Eric was gorgeous, but in a more distinguished way with his salt-and-pepper beard and thick, curly hair that was begging to be rumpled.
What they had in common was that Carter and Eric were both good people, and they fully supported and loved Scott. Kyle liked them both.
“When are you and Gloria getting engaged, Carter?” Kip asked.
“Whenever she wants,” Carter said, which made everyone laugh. “I’m serious. She knows I’m ready when she is. It’s just hectic right now. We’re both traveling constantly.”
Carter was dating a very famous actress, Gloria Grey. She wasn’t here tonight, but she’d come to the Kingfisher a few times and she was super
cool.
“Where is she tonight?” Kyle asked.
“Atlanta. She’s filming an action movie with Rose Landry where Gloria is an assassin and Rose is the special agent trying to stop her. Then they end up working together.”
“Boo. Spoilers,” Kip complained jokingly.
“It sounds badass,” Carter said.
“Do they fall in love?” Kyle asked. “The assassin and the special agent?”
“Not officially.” Carter grinned mischievously. “But Gloria said she and Rose are gonna play it like they’re totally hot for each other. See if anyone notices.”
“I love it,” Kip said.
Carter stood. “I’m hitting the bar. Anyone need anything?” He turned to Kyle. “Can I get you a beer for a change?”
Kyle laughed. “I’m okay.” It was probably silly, but knowing Eric didn’t drink made Kyle not want to drink either. “I might try to get a peek at some more of Eric’s art collection.”
“It’s nice, right? I need to get that classy son of a bitch to teach me about that shit someday.”
“It won’t help,” joked the mystery Swedish guy.
“Fuck you, Tommy.”
Tommy. Right. Kip and Scott were clearly lost in each other’s eyes at the moment, so Kyle turned his attention to Tommy. “I don’t think we’ve met.
I’m Kyle.” He held out his hand, and Tommy shook it.
“Tommy. Andersson.”
“Right! You’re the other goalie. Sorry I didn’t recognize you.”
Tommy smiled. He was really goddamned handsome. He looked like a Skarsgaard. “Don’t worry about it.”
There was nothing flirtatious about the way Tommy spoke to or looked at Kyle, but it occurred to Kyle that it was pretty cool that this probably- straight hockey player was calmly sharing a sectional sofa with three gay men. Like, he shouldn’t get a trophy for it or anything, but from what Kyle knew about team sports, especially hockey, it wasn’t an insignificant gesture. He wondered how big an impact Scott had made on the way his teammates viewed queer people.
“So you like getting hit by pucks too, huh?”
“Most of the time, yes.” He was so much younger than Eric. Kyle wondered if he was Eric’s competition, or if Eric was more like his mentor.
Maybe it was a bit of both.
“Do you like New York?” Kyle asked. It was maybe the most boring question he could ask, but at least it filled the silence.
Tommy, thankfully, seemed enthusiastic when he answered. “Yes, I am very lucky. Not only because it’s New York, but because I get to play with Benny. Eric, I mean. He was my hero, growing up.”
“Whoa, really? That’s nuts!” Kyle couldn’t imagine what that was like for Eric. It must make him feel old.
“Yes,” Tommy said seriously. “He is one of the best ever. He has been a great teacher.”
Kyle knew that Eric was considered to be one of the greatest goaltenders to ever play the game, but he kind of forgot about it when he was talking to him. He couldn’t quite reconcile the man behind the mask and the quietly intense man who collected art.
At that moment Maria dropped on the couch next to Kyle, and a very tall and beautiful blond woman snuggled up to Tommy. They began speaking to each other in Swedish, so Kyle assumed this was Tommy’s girlfriend or wife.
“How’s it going?” Kyle asked Maria. “How’s Operation Finland?”
Maria exhaled with enough force to blow the tendrils of hair that fell in her face straight out. “Terrible. Have you seen the women at this party?”
She subtly nodded in the direction of the woman Tommy was now kissing.
“How am I supposed to have a chance?”
Kyle’s gaze dropped to her chest. “You could try more cleavage.”
Instead of telling him to fuck off, like he’d expected, she laughed and then curled into him. “God, I look ridiculous. And desperate.”
Kyle kissed the top of her head. “You look gorgeous. So was Jalo a dick to you? I can beat him up. It might take a few days of punching him, but eventually he would feel it. I think.”
“I haven’t even tried to talk to him,” Maria said into his shoulder. “I don’t know what I was expecting to happen.”
“Well, what should have happened was that he spotted you across the room, and then parted the crowd with his massive shoulders and thighs so he could get to you. Then he should have swept you off your feet and carried you back to his place for six days and seven nights of lovemaking.”
“Like, would that have been so hard? Men. Honestly.” She sighed. “I’m going to die alone.”
“You’re not. You’re going to die during a threesome with Oscar Isaac and
Michael B. Jordan.”
“That’s really nice of you to say.”
“Do you want to look at art with me?”
She lifted her head. “I think I’d rather look at that bar over there.”
“Pace yourself, girl.”
“Fuck yourself, boy.” She playfully punched his arm before standing and heading for the bar. He turned his attention to Kip, who was actually for real booping Scott on the nose, so Kyle stood up and got the fuck out of there.
He headed out of the crowded basement and upstairs to the front entrance area. He’d noticed some paintings and sculptures on display there that he hadn’t had a chance to inspect earlier. He figured he could poke around a bit, maybe mix Eric another drink, and then hit the road. He wasn’t in much of a party mood tonight.
Eric’s house was undeniably beautiful, but Kyle wondered what it looked like when it wasn’t full of lively party guests. The stark white walls and modern, minimal furniture were ideal for displaying art, but Kyle imagined it might be a cold place to live alone.
There was a canvas hanging by itself on one wall that had caught Kyle’s eye earlier. It was hard to miss, really: an enormous abstract oil painting that was full of frantic angular scrapes of dark brown, indigo, black and stark white. Scattered in a few places were dots of eye-catching fuchsia.
Kyle lost himself in it for several minutes.
“Powerful, isn’t it?” Eric’s hushed voice rumbled behind him. Kyle hadn’t heard him approach, so he turned quickly, startled. Eric held up his hands. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“It’s okay.” He turned back to the painting. “This is really beautiful.”
“It’s called Guardian. I fell in love with it the moment I saw it, but the name really sold me.”
It took Kyle a moment. “Because that’s your job. Guarding the net.”
“Right.” Eric was standing so close that Kyle would only have to lean back slightly to feel Eric’s chest against his back. He had to close his eyes for a moment to fight the longing to have Eric wrap his arms around him from behind. For him to kiss Kyle’s neck and nibble his ear. For Kyle to press his ass against Eric’s crotch, and feel him grow hard against him.
These were all bad thoughts. Kyle took a step forward under the guise of wanting a closer look at the painting. “I love the energy of it. You can feel
the artist’s urgency.”
“Urgency?”
“In creating the guardian. Blocking out whatever it is they feared or
hated.”
“So the guardian is good, you think?”
Kyle turned to him. “You don’t?”
Eric frowned at the painting. “I’m not sure. I thought maybe the guardian was an obstacle to something better. The pink spots”—he pointed to a couple of them—“might be the good trying to break through.”
“Huh.” Kyle considered this perspective. It did make sense. “Then that makes you the bad guy.”
“In a way, I am. I keep people from scoring goals. From winning. I stand between them and victory.”
“Or you protect your own teammates from defeat.”
“Perspective is important,” Eric agreed with wry smile. “I’m glad you like the piece. When I showed it to Carter, he said it should be called Rectangles.”
Kyle laughed. “At least he knows his shapes.”
“It’s a start.”
The smile faded from Eric’s lips at the same moment Kyle felt his own heart seize in his chest. He couldn’t miss the way Eric’s gaze had landed on Kyle’s mouth.
What would happen if Kyle leaned in, just slightly? Would Eric kiss him?
Would he back away? Was Kyle misreading the desire he was sure was darkening Eric’s eyes?
Footsteps pounded up the stairs, and Eric turned quickly away from Kyle.
Kip, followed closely by Scott, came into view, pausing in surprise when they saw Eric and Kyle.
“Oh, hey guys,” Kip said. “We have to head out.”
“Early morning tomorrow,” Scott said apologetically.
“Right,” Eric said. His calm voice didn’t suggest that he’d almost been caught kissing Kyle, so maybe Kyle had been imagining things. “I remember. Thank you for coming. Let me get your coats.”
“Already on it,” Kip said, holding up a finger before returning to the basement. Scott crossed his giant arms in front of his massive chest and
smiled at Kyle and Eric.
“What?” Eric asked.
“Kip and I have been trying to get you two together for months.”
“What?” Kyle sputtered.
“Together? Why?” Eric asked, much more smoothly.
“We thought you guys could be friends. Y’know. About art and stuff.” He nodded at the painting.
So maybe Kyle’s sputtering was unwarranted. He turned back to the painting to hide his embarrassment while Eric said, “It is nice to talk about something other than video games and fantasy football.”
Kip emerged from the basement wearing his coat and carrying Scott’s.
“There are at least three guys playing Fortnight on their phones down there.
I’m going to write a tell-all about how uncool pro hockey players are.”
“You’d better not,” Scott teased.
“Oh, I’m going to have a whole chapter about your love of word search
puzzles.”
“They’re relaxing!”
Kip threw his arms around Eric. “Happy birthday, buddy.”
“Thanks.”
Kyle was hugged next, which was always an exercise in not nuzzling Kip’s neck. It was easier to resist with Kip’s fiancé looking on. “Goodnight, Kip.”
“I’m glad you came out tonight. Have fun, all right?” He gave Kyle an extra squeeze, then released him. Kyle could still feel Kip’s arms around him as he watched Kip take Scott’s hand and lead him out the front door.
When Kyle turned back to Eric, he saw that same sympathetic look on his face that he’d seen the night of Kip and Scott’s engagement party. He hated it.
“So,” Kyle said brightly, refusing to acknowledge the fact that his feelings for Kip were so fucking obvious that even this near-stranger noticed them. “Can I get you another drink?”
Eric’s face shifted into the quietly amused expression that Kyle greatly preferred. “Sure.”