Chapter Fourteen
“Do you ever get used to that?” Kyle asked over the roar of twenty thousand people cheering as Scott’s goal was announced.
Kip grinned, his eyes fixed on Scott’s face on the enormous scoreboard screen. “Nope.”
“Like, that’s your boyfriend. Your fiancé.” It was suddenly a lot easier to tease Kip about Scott. He no longer felt a stab of jealousy or longing when reminded that Kip was spoken for, and Kyle didn’t want to think too hard about why that was.
“I know,” Kip said. “We argued about coffeemaker settings this morning.”
Kyle laughed, imagining it. He’d felt a surprising lurch in his own chest when Eric was announced at the beginning of the game as the starting goaltender.
Eric wasn’t his boyfriend, but their night together had been incredible, and Kyle had been obsessing over it ever since.
And it wasn’t just the sex that he couldn’t stop thinking about.
It was all of it: the dinner, the conversation, the way Eric hadn’t dismissed him when Kyle had confessed that he was more passionate about bartending than academia.
In fact, every moment they had spent together had been wonderful, starting with their brief conversations at Scott and Kip’s engagement party. Eric had Kyle thoroughly smitten.
And now he was on the ice in full hockey gear, looking like a gladiator as an arena full of fans cheered him on. It was hard to believe he was the same man who’d shyly asked Kyle to boss him around a bit in the bedroom.
It was an afternoon game against New Jersey, so the building was rowdy. The score was now 2–0 for New York in the third period, thanks to some amazing saves by Eric.
“I want him to get a shutout,” Kyle said.
Kip nudged him hard. “Don’t say it out loud! You’ll jinx him!”
“Wow, Scott has really rubbed off on you.” Kyle regretted saying it immediately because he knew what was coming.
“All the fucking time,” Kip drawled.
Kyle looked at the clock. Six and a half minutes left.
Come on, Eric. You’ve got this.
He hadn’t gone to a game with Kip in a while, and he’d never been this on edge watching one. His stomach twisted with nerves, not just because he wanted the Admirals to win, but because he didn’t want Eric to get hurt. How did Kip deal with all this stress?
“We picked a venue,” Kip said, casually stealing a handful of Kyle’s popcorn. “For the wedding.”
“Really? Where?”
“We found an inn near Bay Shore—more of a resort, with a main building and cottages around it. We booked the whole thing.”
“That sounds...” Expensive was the first word to pop into Kyle’s head, but he finished with, “awesome.”
Kip smiled. “I know. It’s a total dream wedding. We wanted to do it out of the city, but not too far. And we wanted somewhere private. We’re hoping we can do the ceremony outdoors, near the water.”
“So no center-ice wedding?”
“Fuck no. Scott loves the fans, but this is for us.”
Kip gazed dreamily at the circle where Scott was now bending to take a face-off. Kyle’s eyes locked on Eric, crouching at the top of his crease. Kyle indulged in a brief fantasy of dancing with Eric at the wedding. It could happen, even as friends.
The crowd started yelling angrily, and his attention turned back to the game. One of the Admirals players had gotten a penalty.
“Total bullshit,” Kip grumbled. “That wasn’t even close to slashing.”
Kyle hadn’t seen it, but he agreed. “Fucking ridiculous.”
Now the Admirals would be short one player, and the face-off was happening in their zone, close to Eric.
Kyle wondered if Eric was stressed about that.
Or maybe this was fun for him. Maybe this was the hockey goalie equivalent of a skier standing on the rim of a headwall.
Kyle had lived for that feeling once, and still loved it whenever he got the chance.
New Jersey won the face off and, for the next fifty seconds or so, unleashed a barrage of hard shots at the Admirals’ net.
Eric was unbelievable, shutting down a scoring chance at one side of the net, then quickly sliding to the opposite side to stop the rebound shot.
A slap shot came from the blue line that hit Eric so hard in the chest that Kyle could feel it.
The crowd roared their approval. When the play finally stopped, they chanted Ben-ny, Ben-ny and the DJ started playing Elton John’s “Benny and the Jets.”
“He’s so fucking good!” Kyle said, beaming with pride like he was somehow responsible for Eric’s talent.
“He’s amazing,” Kip said. “I’ll bet he could play another five seasons at least.”
Kyle wondered. Eric seemed healthy and, based on his impressive upside-down yoga abilities, very fit, but how much longer could a body endure this level of punishment?
On the ice, Eric seemed to be shaking off that last save.
As if being hit with a hundred-mile-an-hour slap shot was the same as stubbing your toe.
The jumbo screens showed a close-up of Eric’s face as he flipped his mask up.
He looked remarkably calm as he squirted water into his mouth, like he was hanging out at the park instead of throwing himself in front of rocket-fast hockey pucks.
There were now less than four minutes left in the game, and one minute left in the penalty. Kyle handed Kip the rest of his popcorn because he was too nervous to eat anyway. Besides, he needed to clasp his hands together even though he didn’t believe in prayer. It just felt right.
He wanted Eric to get this shutout.
He wanted Eric to invite him over to celebrate tonight.
The possibility that Kyle might get to again have this man—the same man who was right now being loudly adored by an arena full of excited fans—was exhilarating. He wanted nothing more than the chance to take him over, and then completely take him apart.
He suddenly understood why Kip had been sexually obsessed with Scott for almost three years now. This was heady fucking stuff.
The last minute of play was announced. The penalty was over, but New Jersey had pulled their goaltender for the extra attacker.
Kyle resented them for it. It was so unlikely that they would score two goals in the next minute to tie the game that Kyle wished they wouldn’t bother trying. Why ruin Eric’s shutout for no reason?
They had several good scoring chances during that final minute, but Eric stopped any pucks that made it through the defensemen.
When the final ten seconds were being counted down, Kyle was yelling out the numbers louder than anyone.
Finally, the siren sounded to end the game, and Kyle leaped out of his seat. “Yeah! Fuck yeah, Eric!”
Kip laughed as he bent to gather his coat from his seat. “Looks like Benny’s got a new number-one fan.”
“I’m happy for him,” Kyle said, though what he was actually thinking was I want to fuck him. He watched as the Admirals hugged on the ice, then saluted the crowd with their sticks before leaving the ice.
“This is the boring part,” Kip said. “The post-game stuff takes forever. Especially after a win. You wanna go to Shake Shack?”
Kyle blinked at him. “You ate for pretty much this entire game.”
“There’s always room for Shake Shack. Come on. My treat.”
“No way. You provided the tickets. The least I can do is buy you a burger.”
Kip waved a hand. “The tickets were free. Come on.”
“Scott told me about Eric.”
Kyle froze, dangling the ShackMeister fry he’d been about to pop into his mouth in the air. Did Scott know Kyle and Eric had hooked up? “What about Eric?”
“That he’s bi. Scott told me Eric told you first, which is interesting.”
Kyle tried to play it cool. “Were you surprised that he’s bi?”
“Yes! I had no idea. Scott didn’t even suspect, and he’s one of his best friends.” Kip laughed. “Scott’s not really the best at clocking people, though. So why did Eric tell you?”
Kyle dropped his fry back into the container. “I don’t know. We’ve been hanging out a bit. I guess he just wanted to tell someone who wasn’t that close to him.”
“What, like he practiced coming out? With you?”
Kyle bit his cheek to keep from grinning. Eric had practiced a lot of things with Kyle. “Yeah. Something like that.”
Kip studied him, frowning. “What’s going on with you two?”
“Nothing.”
“Because I did the secret dating thing with an NHL star and it wasn’t—”
“I’m not dating him,” Kyle said truthfully, though he wished it were a lie. “We’re just friends. Like you wanted us to be.”
Kip smiled at that. “That’s cool. Scott told me Eric was in a great mood at practice yesterday. Maybe you’re a good influence on him. He needs to have some fun.”
Kyle looked down at his fries so Kip wouldn’t see the flush that was creeping up his neck. Had Eric been in a good mood because of Kyle? Had he also been unable to stop thinking about their night together?
Kip was looking at his phone, so Kyle pulled his own phone out. There was a message from two minutes ago.
Eric: Are you free tonight?
Kyle grinned at his phone, then quickly wrote, I am. Feel like celebrating?
Eric: I really do. Can you come to my place? Maybe in an hour?
Kyle: I’ll be there.
“What are you smiling about?” Kip asked.
“Uh, just a guy wants to meet up with me.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Someone I met at work.” Kyle realized as he said it that it wasn’t actually a lie. “So...” He stood up, grabbing what was left of his cookies and cream milkshake because there was no reason to waste it. “I should get going. Gotta freshen up a bit first, y’know?”
Kip grinned at him. “Have fun. Scott’s going to meet me here.”
Kyle quickly dipped and kissed him on the cheek. “Thanks for inviting me today.”
“Anytime. See you soon.”
Kyle rushed out of the restaurant and into the nearest subway station, giddy with excitement about getting his hands on Eric Bennett tonight.
Eric felt invincible. He was always charged up after a win—especially a shutout—but tonight he felt confident and attractive and horny as fuck. This must be how his teammates felt when they talked about needing to get laid after a big win.