Chapter 2
Chapter Two
LARSON FAULKNER III
Tomy and I went to high school together. I wouldn’t say we were friends, but we had a mutual understanding. We were gay in a place where that wasn’t safe, so we kept each other’s secret. I think we may have had a mutual crush on each other, too.
We kept in touch over the years. He isn’t into hockey, but he’s followed my career. He was the first who messaged me when I came out to the world once I’d been drafted into the NHL.
Over the years since high school, we’ve flirted and planned to get together. We’ve sexted from time to time. We’ve sent each other sexy photos and five-second cum shot videos.
It’s not that we’ve waited for each other to become single so we can get together.
Or that we’ve pined over each other and not dated others.
We’ve both had boyfriends since leaving high school.
Our flirting cuts off when one or both of us are in relationships, but it always picks up again when we’re both single.
It’s been a couple of years since we’ve been single at the same time, so when my team was miraculously scheduled for eight days off in a row over the New Year holiday, we decided that we’d actually give it a go and see what happened. See if all the flirty tension between us leads to something more.
We chose the Isle of Kala for the same reason so many people do—anonymity. I can explore this relationship in privacy.
We’d been on Kala for twenty-four hours before our boudoir shoot. We didn’t waste our time taking it slow, but jumped right into fucking as soon as we were led to our accommodations. I won’t go so far as to say it’s mind-blowing, but it’s… good.
I wonder if he also feels a little disappointed at the lack of chemistry between us in person. Then again, I wonder if maybe I only feel that way since we left the shoot a few hours ago. It’s difficult trying to remember how I felt before stepping into the studio.
Was I smitten? Was I convinced that it’s just as good in person as it had hinted at being over the phone?
“I can’t wait to see the photos,” Tomy says. “They’re going to be so hot.”
He’s a gorgeous man. He has classic good looks with perfect hair and the kind of smile that renders all genders stupid. He also has the kind of looks that transform with his personality and anything you put him in.
Then there’s his voice. It’s sweet and innocent, but he can also turn it deep and sexy.
But when he sings, it fucking breaks your heart.
I’ve been hypnotized by his voice when he’s sent me recordings.
There was one that I must have listened to on repeat for an hour.
Considering it was an eighty-second recording, that’s a lot.
“Yeah,” I agree.
“They were super nice there,” he says.
“Everyone has been.”
Tomy nods.
Just hours. It’s been only a few fucking hours, and I’m still thinking about Dylan Spruce. He was tiny, sexy in a one-piece and heels with just a touch of black around his eyes, making them loud.
I’ve never been so… captivated by a single person so instantly in my entire life. I’m not even sure what it is about him that made me stare like I did. If I’m being mean and maybe judgmental, I think Tomy is probably hotter than he is.
I glance at Tomy, ready to convince myself that’s the truth.
That’s the problem with attraction, though.
It’s entirely subjective. All my life, I’ve heard that there’s someone out there for everyone and that person, the one who’s made for me, will be my absolute everything. No one will ever compare.
Once, I might have thought Tomy was divine. Now I’m less sure. I see flaws where I once hadn’t, which is fucking stupid. He’s beautiful.
He feels me looking at him and meets my eyes with a smile. I sigh. “I’m sorry. I’ve been kind of quiet.”
Tomy shrugs. “That guy got under your skin.”
“I hid it well, I see.”
He laughs. “Neither of you hid it. You’re very obviously attracted to each other.”
I’m not sure it has much to do with attraction, if I’m honest. Yes, he took my breath away once I actually looked at him, but it goes deeper than that. There aren’t words to explain it because I don’t understand. So yeah, I’ll agree that we were attracted to each other.
I suppose that’s a comfort, right? It was clear we both felt it. Dylan Spruce was just as struck dumb as I was. Hell, I’m not known for being quiet, but I think I might have spoken no more than three words the entire time we were there. I’ve barely spoken more than that since we left.
I’m being a jerk. Tomy deserves better.
“What’s up now? Did we have plans?” I ask.
Tomy points. “You were going to check out the sports shop, and I was going to stop inside the old-timey movie rental place and look around. I want to see how the dinosaurs lived.”
I laugh. “We were both alive when movie rentals were common.”
“We were kids.”
“Wasn’t working in a movie rental store your first job?”
“For three months before they closed.”
We were both surprised and had a good laugh when we found out they had a movie rental store on the resort, specifically for the guests. There are televisions in all the rooms, but streaming is limited because technology is choked to protect their guests’ privacy and anonymity as promised.
And thus, there’s a rental store so we can load up on movies if we choose. It’s pretty funny, actually. I told him to check it out, and I’ll stop in the sports shop to see what they have. I imagine their hockey collection is limited, but maybe they’ll be open to expanding.
Always pushing my name, of course.
We pause at the crossroads, and Tomy leans up on his toes to kiss me.
It’s barely more than a peck, but it makes my stomach roll.
Not in disgust or anything like that. Tomy is far too good to ever make me feel that way.
But for some reason, I feel disloyal right now.
I’m not sure who I feel disloyal to. One makes sense, but the other feels more accurate.
I watch him head to the movie store and attempt to reinforce that I’m here with him. Tomy is the one I’m going home with at the end of the night. I came to Kala with Tomy, and I’m leaving with Tomy.
Well, I’m leaving as far as L.A., and then we’re getting on separate flights to head to our respective homes, but still. For this trip, I’m with Tomy Hollister.
With a heavy sigh, I turn to the sports shop and head inside.
As I suspected, it’s a mix of all sports.
There are pennants hanging around the perimeter, with a tool on each of them; a distinct soccer ball, a goal post with an American football, a baseball and bat…
there’s hockey, the familiar crossed hockey sticks with a puck between them.
Does that mean the store has something from every sport they represent on the pennants? There are a lot of pennants. The store looks decent-sized, but that’s still a lot of sports.
Ah, there it is. Not hidden in the corner at any rate. There’s a table with three tiers and a rack beside it filled with shirts and jerseys. And there’s a cool blanket on display with all the logos of the league. That’s really cool.
“Larson?”
My heart nearly stops. I’ve been to Kala a couple of times, and I’m never recognized. It’s one of the reasons I love Kala. It’s cool as fuck when someone recognizes you in the grocery store or pumping gas, but when it happens repeatedly, you remember that your life is never truly private.
Kala is supposed to be private.
I turn, and my heart stops when I see Dylan standing there.
He’s holding a softball in his hand. As I look at him, I wonder if there’s actually any place to play these sports.
Would you really come to a place like Kala with no professional team and buy sports memorabilia? Seems weird, but it happens, I guess.
“Hi,” I say.
He stares, and I can’t look away. Oh fuck. Why am I so spellbound by this man? Why does my heart race like this?
“Are you a sports fan?” Dylan asks.
I nod somewhat dumbly before I shake my head out of the clouds. “I play hockey.”
He tilts his head to the side and glances at the stuff behind me. “Hockey?”
“Uh-huh. I’m a center for the Purple Fins.”
“Professional hockey?”
“Yeah.”
Dylan smiles. “That’s so cool. Are you good?”
“I like to think I am. My stats are pretty good, and I’m getting better every year.”
“Do you get into a lot of fights on the ice?”
“You watch hockey?” I ask excitedly.
“Meh,” he says, shaking his hand. “I don’t watch anything religiously, but I’ve stopped on a game or two when I’m flicking through channels. Because of where Kala is located, it’s hard to catch games when they’re streaming live since we’re closer to Mexico than the US, you know?”
“That sucks, but don’t you get streaming? Wait, you live here, right?”
“I live on Bane, yes. And yes, we get streaming, but you’d have to seek it out, and I generally choose an app on any given day and click through the home screen until something catches my attention.”
“So you click through Sports Spot from time to time,” I say.
He smiles, and goddamn, the way my chest heats with excitement. “Yep. I’ve been known to get sporty from time to time.”
“Do you play softball? You can play sports on Kala?”
“There are a couple fields around the school on Bane. No ice, though. Sorry.”
“No place is perfect,” I tease.
“Oh no, Kala is perfect. I’m sure if there were any interest in playing hockey, they’d find a way to make it happen.”
“Ah. So you play softball then?”
His eyebrows knit together. “No. Why do you ask?”
I glance down at the softball in his hand. “You thinking of taking up a sporty hobby?”
Dylan follows my gaze. “Oh.” It’s cute the way he’s examining the ball as if it’s the first time seeing it.
I’m guessing he picked it up on his way by since they’re just inside the door.
“No. If I chose a sport, it’d be one where I don’t perspire or get dirty.
Or have to run. And I can choose what I wear. ”
I laugh. “So… chess.” His face scrunches, and I continue to laugh. Why is he so damn cute?
“I don’t think I could throw this. But I’m always looking for new props. I have very few sports props.”
“Equipment,” I correct, grinning. “Get some hockey stuff. Guys and girls love hockey players.”
“I hear they smell bad,” Dylan says, his adorable nose scrunching.
“Do I smell bad?”
Dylan takes a step closer. Then closer. Almost sensually, he walks into my personal space and puts his face to my pecs. He doesn’t touch me, but he very clearly inhales deeply. His eyes flicker up to mine. “No,” he says. “You smell good enough to eat.”
My dick jumps and heat flares. Blood rushes south so abruptly that I think I might sway at his words.
“Larson?”
I jerk backwards and look over the racks to find Tomy standing just inside the door. He’s looking around, giving me enough time to back away from Dylan.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur, feeling my cheeks flush. “I-I have to go.”
Dylan nods, eyes shimmering. He looks like a damn prince or something.
I walk away from him and toward Tomy. Tomy smiles, and it makes my chest tight. “Was that Dylan from the studio? He’s into sports, too?”
“He’s shopping for props,” I repeat and urge him out of the store.
Fuck.