Chapter 22 #2
I pour some of the sauce onto my burger then add the rest of my toppings—tomato, onion, pickles, and lettuce.
My mouth waters at the sight of it, and then I take a big bite.
Flavor bursts in my mouth—beef barbecued to perfection, a little sweetness and salt, a kick of heat, all pairing together with the lightly fried bun and my toppings.
“Taste good?” Eric asks.
I try to hold back a moan and nod a little too eagerly. “Oh my God, yeah, it does!”
Eric flashes his signature smile and takes a drink from his beer, overflowing with confidence and pride.
I go for another bite like a starving animal, and I have to cover my mouth with my napkin to talk. “Like what the hell, Eric? This sauce should be sold in stores.”
“Yeah? You like it that much?”
In interviews, Eric’s humble, always downplaying his talent as a goaltender. Yet here in his backyard, one on one, I’ve never heard him sound so smug.
“Yeah, God.” I lick a dribble of liquid sliding down the side of my hand and suck my fingers clean. My mother would scold me if she could see my table manners. “This could give any professional chef a run for his money.”
“So you’re saying after I retire, I should try out for a food competition?”
“Maybe.”
He chuckles. “Wait till you try it with the fries.”
I follow his suggestion, grabbing a handful of fries out of the basket. I drag a bundle through the drippings on my plate and take a bite. He’s right. He’s so, so right.
“Is there anything you can’t do?”
Eric scoffs. “Plenty. I can’t play an instrument to save my life, for starters. My sister gained all the musical expertise in the family.” He pauses and then adds, “I can’t sing either. Everyone covers their ears when I do karaoke.”
I wave him off while finishing the rest of the burger. To my immediate pleasure, he serves up another one for me, familiar with my appetite.
“You already know I love hosting parties for the team,” he explains after taking a bite of his own dinner. “I take pride in it. I’m the team’s best cook—just ask any of the guys. They’ll tell you I cook better than some of their wives. Not that I’m trying to brag.”
“You should. This is delicious.”
“Well thanks. I’m really glad you like it.”
When the sun starts to set, Eric lights the lantern on the table and turns on the bistro lights, bathing the area in a warm glow.
“So now that I’ve won you over with dinner… Do you feel a little better?”
I lower my half-empty beer back to the table and pause before answering.
I was right, earlier, about the difference in noise between the city and a neighborhood.
Around us, crickets softly chirp in his backyard.
Sprinklers go off in another. There’s a stray sound of a car passing on a street, but it’s gone as soon as it came.
The children I heard earlier are still out, their laughter distant but no less joyful.
“Yeah, I do.”
More than just a little.
I can see why Eric chose to live here. Quiet, lazy summers, cozy winters bundled up in front of a fireplace, the sounds of steady rain.
Eric’s backyard faces west across the valley, offering a view of the setting sun and dark silhouettes of distant trees—a sight he’s bragged about so often in our texting conversations.
The atmosphere reminds me of childhood summers spent at Cape Cod.
I always wondered what it would be like to live somewhere like this instead of the urban jungle.
For now, I’m Eric’s guest, relieved to have escaped from all the noise, the static, the pressure, the questions.
I don’t know how long I’ll be able to stay, but who am I to turn down a safe harbor in a storm?
When Eric starts to collect our dirty dishes, I move to help, but he waves me off.
“Just sit back and relax. Let me take care of you, James.”
Only a handful of words, and I stay put on the patio. I move to the outdoor couch to lounge and enjoy the view, my mind blissfully silent.
Sometime later, the sliding glass door opens again, and Eric returns with a blanket and a tray with two steaming mugs.
“Here,” he says, draping the blanket over me. “It gets a little chilly at night, and you’ll want to stick around to enjoy everything your first night has to offer.”
Then, he hands me one of the mugs with whipped cream and the distinct smell of rich chocolate.
“Hope you don’t mind hot cocoa for dessert.”
“Thanks,” I murmur, stunned yet again by his kindness. No wonder his teammates were all smiles in the photos of his parties. Eric takes being a host seriously.
He joins me on the couch, sitting close so we can share the blanket. Our shoulders brush together, his body warmer than mine. I would be lying if I said I didn’t wish I could curl up into his arms while we stared up at the stars.
“Every time I sit out here at night, I follow your instructions to find the North Star. I’ll admit, I’ve held back from looking up how to find other constellations.” He smiles sheepishly. “I hoped you’d teach me someday.”
If I wasn’t already certain I was in love with him, this moment alone would have carved those feelings into my heart.
If I were a bolder man, I would have leaned in and stolen a kiss, tasting the hot chocolate on his lips—but I’m not that man.
I tell myself our closeness is enough, our friendship enough, even though every bone in my body yearns for him, wishing he were mine.
We enjoy our hot cocoa while I tell him everything I know about the stars.
It’s so different here, faced with more stars than I’m used to thanks to less light pollution.
I’m a rusty teacher, but Eric listens attentively, his gaze following where I point up at the sky.
There’s no sense of time, only his steady breathing matched with mine.
When we both share one too many yawns, we end the lesson and call it a night. We head back inside, separating in the hallway to retreat to our respective rooms.
“If you need anything, just wake me up,” he tells me from his doorway across from the guest bedroom.
“Thanks again for, you know, inviting me up here. I had a great night.”
“First of what I hope will be many more to come.”
I close the door and lean against its frame, burying my face into my hands, smitten by Eric and the thought that if I need him, he’ll only be across the way.