Page 123 of Common Goal
There were a lot of friends and family, though; over two hundred guests were in attendance, but Eric only had eyes for Kyle. He was unbearably handsome in his tuxedo. Especially with his glasses on.
Scott turned and hugged Eric. “Thank you for being here.”
“Wouldn’t have missed it. I’m happy for you.” Eric meant that wholeheartedly. He was thrilled for his closest friend. And it was nice to be at the wedding of two people who were truly in love with each other. He hoped to have one of those weddings himself someday.
“I’m happy for you too,” Scott said. He nodded in Kyle’s direction. “He’s good for you. You should keep him.”
“I hope to.”
Scott gave him a final squeeze, then turned to grab his new husband’s hand. The guests had all been standing for the short ceremony, and the large crowd swallowed the newlyweds up in a sea of hugs and backslaps.
Kyle stepped toward Eric. “That wasn’t too disgusting.”
“Not bad at all,” Eric agreed.
Kyle leaned in and kissed him, which was a relief after looking at him for so long without being able to touch him. His lips were soft, and a bit cold from standing outside by the ocean, and Eric melted against him.
“Walk with me a bit?” Kyle asked.
Eric took his hand and squeezed it. “Of course.”
The inn had a path that led down to the beach. When they reached the sand, Eric slipped his shoes off, then bent to remove his socks. Kyle grinned and did the same. Being with Kyle had made Eric looser. He still liked routine—still exercised, still kept to a healthy diet—but he was more impulsive, and less concerned with what other people thought of him. He didn’t feel the need to be perfect, and obviously the weight of having to perform on the ice had been lifted.
Retirement, so far, had been pretty excellent.
He and Scott had officially become the new owners of the Kingfisher a month ago. The renovations were still a work in progress, but they were planning a grand re-opening party for when Scott and Kip returned in August from their month-long European honeymoon. Eric had recommended some spots in Greece that he and Kyle had particularly loved during their own trip at the end of May.
“It’s not Crete, but it’s not bad,” Kyle said now, as they gazed at the Bay together, toes buried in the sand.
On the beach in Crete, Kyle had been exquisite. His damp skin had glistened in the sun, exposed other than where it had been covered by his short swimsuit. Eric had snapped a photo of him peeking back over his shoulder, his long bare legs outstretched on the sand. That photo was now in a frame in Eric’s bedroom. He thought, if he’d had his camera with him now, he could take an equally stunning photo of Kyle in his tuxedo in the purple early evening light.
They still lived apart, but Kyle spent most nights at Eric’s. Eric hoped he would move in with him eventually, but he knew moving out would complicate things for Maria, unless Kyle just never bothered telling his parents he wasn’t living there anymore. It was a very real option Kyle had been considering. Why not let his shitty, rich parents pay for an apartment for his friend?
“We should go back to Greece,” Eric said. “Soon.”
“We just got back!”
“I know, but...” Kyle was always a delight, but in Greece he had truly come alive. Besides enjoying how great he’d looked in a bathing suit, Eric had been constantly impressed by Kyle’s knowledge when they’d toured historic sites and museums, and by how easily he had translated Greek for him. He’d loved hearing him speak the language to the locals. After full days of being turned on by Kyle’s brain, Eric had been eager to ravish his body at night.
“We should go somewhere else. Italy, maybe.” Kyle clapped his hands together. “Sicily!”
“Anywhere you like,” Eric said. It was true. Kyle could suggest the city dump and Eric would follow him happily.
“For now we should probably go back inside. The important part of the reception is probably about to start.”
“Probably.” Eric stole another kiss, and then they walked back up to the inn to celebrate the marriage of the friends who had inadvertently brought them together.
“What if I just asked him to dance?”
Kyle grinned at Maria, who was staring at Matti Jalo’s back across the room. “Then he’d be the luckiest man in the world.”
Maria straightened her shoulders, which made her breasts look even more incredible. “I’m going to do it.”
“Maybe wait for a slow song?” Kyle gestured toward the DJ, who was, at the moment, playing a Pitbull party anthem.
“Right. Okay. Good. Time for another glass of wine then.”
Kyle laughed as she marched toward a server with a tray of full wineglasses. A moment later, strong, familiar arms wrapped around him from behind.
