Fourteen
OWEN
I watch him eat for a few minutes. Though it’s clear that Zak tries to slow down, there’s no doubt in my mind that he’s starving.
I’m reminded of how prominent his ribs were the last time I had him naked.
And how clearly I could see his hip bones.
Now that I’m really looking at him, his cheekbones are pronounced too.
My stomach rolls as all the little things that I noticed but didn’t pay attention to start to fall into place.
His dark eyes meet mine and he slows his chewing, now looking at me self-consciously. I lean in and kiss his forehead. “Eat,” I murmur and sit back again. This time, so he stops thinking so much about it, I pick up a bag and rifle through the contents until I pull out a cheeseburger.
Zak’s content enough now that I have food in my hand to continue eating his. After a few more minutes, he looks at me expectantly.
“The benefit is to raise funds for cancer research,” I tell him. “I donated a few things—signed jerseys and shit. There will be a lot of people there with their checkbooks. The night will be filled with peopling, a silent auction, a live auction, dinner, and… I may be missing a few things.”
He swallows and asks, “Cancer? Is that…”
I shake my head. “No. I usually lean toward supporting organizations and events around the LGBTQIA+ community. Or animals.”
Zak flashes me a smile and nods.
“When Coach asked if anyone wanted to donate to this, I volunteered. I didn’t realize I was volunteering to attend the event. But alas, here we are.”
He nods. A minute passes while he eats in silence. When he finally sits back, he studies me with a concerned expression. “Am I supposed to know something about the cancer thing?”
I shake my head.
“What if someone asks me about hockey?”
Chuckling, I shake my head again. “No worries. And I doubt they’re going to ask you more than whether you’re a fan or not.”
“It’s not that I’m not a fan,” Zak explains. “It’s just that I’ve never been exposed to it, I guess. My best friend is a huge fan, though. He also likes football, soccer, and swimming. Though I suspect swimming because of the Speedos.”
I laugh. “Fair.”
It isn’t long until the limo pulls up and the driver rounds to open the door.
Zak hurries to bundle up again, and I grin because he’s so fucking adorable, looking like he lives in Alaska or Antarctica.
Once he’s out, I tell the driver to keep the food if he can.
Maybe there was a fridge back there. It’s cold enough outside, he could just park somewhere and keep it on the roof.
Well, if we weren’t in the city where I’m not at all convinced the air isn’t toxic to breathe.
Turning my attention to Zak, he’s staring at the hotel with wide eyes. Eyes that are barely peeking out between his hat and scarf. Grinning, I take his thickly mittened hand and gently pull him to the door.
It’s cold out, yes. But the furthest I would be walking is between the limo and the door. That knowledge makes me look at Zak again. He’s not dressed to walk twenty steps, max. He’s dressed as if he walked twenty blocks.
I’m reminded that I didn’t pick him up at his place, but presumably the home of his friend. Did that mean he walked there?
As long as it’s clear he’s not walking home again, I’ll let it slide. For now. All these little hints are mounting up to something, though I’m not sure what yet. It’s right there, just out of reach that I don’t have time to think about right now.
Inside, there are attendants there to take our outside clothing. I try to contain my grin as Zak peels away the layers and hands them over. He’s flushed, his cheeks pink by the time he’s just in his suit.
Then he looks at me with horror. “My hair? Am I a disaster?”
It’s sticking up slightly from his hat, but it’s adorable.
However, I think he’ll be self-conscious about it all night since his hands are already trying to feel the damage.
Pulling his hands away, I bring them to his sides and then run my fingers through his hair to tame it into something that I’m sure he’ll think is acceptable.
“Better,” I tell him. Zak sighs, his shoulders relaxing.
That relief doesn’t last long when he sees the space we’re standing in. One of the things that I’ve always been bothered about were charity functions being held at places that you know cost a fortune. I mean, I get it. You have to spend money to make money. But the price tag on this place?
If I wasn’t already suspicious about everyone within the medical field and behind big pharma, I’d have a lot to say about it.
Instead, I keep my opinion to myself as we head inside.
It’s not that other charities aren’t held the same way.
Or that maybe there’s some big sponsor who paid for this space as their contribution. I guess maybe I’m just a little jaded.
There are more than nine figures to how much money is donated to cancer research every year. Every. Single. Year. And we’re no closer to curing it? I’m sure it’s because someone is lining their pockets.
When I look at Zak again, he’s watching me with a slightly amused expression. “What?” I ask.
He grins and looks away. “As soon as we stepped in here, you looked like you bit into a lemon.”
I snort. “Believe me, you don’t want to know my opinions on these events.”
“Oh, I do,” he insists.
There isn’t time for me to quietly whisper to him my thoughts, which truly have no place at a function meant to support cancer research. Not when I already see Elixon and Noah heading our way.
“Hey, Vinny,” Elixon says, hugging me. I get Noah after and he’s smiling so wide. Especially once he tucks himself into Elixon’s side again.
“This is Lix and Noah,” I tell Zak. “My friend Zak.”
“I love your suit,” Noah says.
I take a better look at what Zak’s wearing and yeah, not only does he look fucking gorgeous, but the seams are lined with a slightly different fabric. It’s elegant, subtle, and meant to be just a little over the top.
Zak both beams and blushes. “Thanks. You’re really pretty.”
Noah laughs, tipping his head to the side so it lands on Elixon’s shoulder. “Thank you.”
“Lix plays for Edmonton and Noah for Florida,” I tell Zak.
“Hockey?” Zak asks, making both Elixon and Noah grin in amusement.
“Yep.”
“You’re kind of far away for this, aren’t you?” Zak asks.
“We’re very charitable,” Elixon says, giving Zak earnest eyes.
Noah snorts. “We are,” he agrees. “But we live with an entire continent separating us, so we take whatever chance we can get to spend a few hours together.”
“Oh,” Zak says, his gaze moving between them. Connecting the dots.
Others join us and I get pulled into a conversation with a Sports Spot anchor, Adrian Tirico, as she asks about the season. She’s asking about my predictions on New York’s chances to make it to the playoffs when Zak dips behind me.
I shift so I can see him insert himself between the three people that were talking to Lix and Noah.
Noah takes a breath and rests a hand on Zak’s back for a minute before slinking off to tuck himself back into Elixon’s side while Zak expertly entertains the three people who had apparently accosted Noah.
“Excuse me,” I tell Adrian and then pull Zak away. He looks up at me with a smile.
“They haven’t asked about hockey or cancer,” he says.
I kiss him. Entirely inappropriately for this setting, but I can’t help myself. He’s breathless when I pull my mouth from his.
“Wh-what was that for?” he stutters.
“Besides the fact that I’ve been dying to kiss you for weeks?” I ask. He gives me a sheepish look. “Because you saw that Noah was struggling and came to his rescue.”
Zak smiles, his gaze flickering to where Noah and Elixon were, but are no longer. “I used to have social anxiety, so I recognize it when I see it. There’s nothing pleasant about feeling like the walls are closing in on you.”
I nod. “That was really big of you, Zak. Thank you for helping my friend.” His smile is shy now. “Sometimes we get so conditioned to be social and polite that we forget to watch out for our friends and just assume that they’re in the same position we are.”
“I could see his panic. I thought that the other guy—Lix?—was coming over but that man he was with kept pulling him back.”
“Another thing you’ll see,” I say and nod to a small group gathered around Gabe Zanderman, “is that people think they have a right to your attention when in places like this.” Gabe very clearly keeps trying to politely remove himself from the conversation, but the woman continues placing her hand on his arm or his chest to keep him there.
“It’s like social cues and personal boundaries have no meanings sometimes. ”
“Do you know him?” Zak asks.
I nod. Then shrug. “He’s a pro soccer player. A gay pro soccer player. So, yeah, I know him.” I chuckle though I doubt Zak understands why it’s amusing.
Snagging a little puff of something off a waiter’s tray on the way by, I feed it to Zak as I point out another familiar face. “That’s Hansley Bardot, a retired pro hockey player, and his supermodel wife, Jessica.”
“Supermodel,” Zak sputters. “That’s so cliché.”
I laugh and nod in another direction. “That man is Coach Adak Nemeczekk from Anaheim. Voted sexiest coach in the league by SCORE magazine.”
“I concur with that assessment,” Zak says.
I continue to point out the who’s who of the professional athlete world for a while until Zak asks, “Are there only sports guys here?”
The laugh that escapes can’t be helped. I love that he’s so undereducated about the world of sports.
However, his question makes me glance around.
“No,” I promise. “I guess because I’m an athlete, I can recognize them.
Especially when they’re gay athletes because we tend to get paraded around together as our leagues’ token proof of inclusivity. ”
“Athletes,” Zak mutters.
Grinning, I pull him to my chest and kiss his nose. “Keep saying sports guys. It’s fucking cute.”