Page 15

CHAPTER 15

ETNA

The last goal Tampa scores is in the last eight seconds of the game. The horn grates, making me tense as I head for the bench. Fuck them.

I try to block out the announcer shouting about their goal. I’m just thankful Horny’s not in the net right now because he’d be in a really bad mood tonight. Losing always sucks, but losing to a team filled with assholes is really just a punch in the gut. It has its own special sting and flavor.

Thankfully, we don’t have much longer to suffer through this misery. We lose 3-5 and file off the ice toward the chute as the crowd cheers. I spend several long minutes under the water trying to wash away the game.

I get that they win a lot, but fuck, I hate Tampa. I swear, you need to pass an asshole test to even be accepted onto the team. It’s lame and I hate it. But whatever.

The entire team is quiet as we change back into our suits and load up our gear bags. I toss my bag under the bus and get on, finding a seat by the window. Keno joins me a minute later. This is one of those moments when I think a nice hug would help soften the misery of today’s defeat. But since we only told the team earlier today, I think keeping the PDA at zero is probably a good idea for a while.

As soon as the hotel room door shuts, I pull Keno into my arms. He immediately softens into my hold. I’m not sure who’s holding whose weight right now as we melt into each other.

“I know we agreed to go out, but I think I’d rather stay in like this,” I say.

“It’s already eleven. We can go out for an hour and come back to cuddle,” Keno offers.

Sighing, I nod. “Fine.”

Horny said that if we were almost anywhere else, he’d have seen what the guys on the other team had planned for the night. But the Tampa team is filled with assholes. Which makes losing to them tonight suck some rank balls.

Instead, he found a place on the beach offering games and food with an ‘ unobstructed view of the fireworks over the ocean .’ That seemed to hit all the marks for what he was looking for. Our friends aren’t big drinkers, so this sounded like a good idea.

“I’m changing, though,” I say and let Keno go. “Since it’s on the beach, I think gym shorts are okay, yeah?”

Keno nods. “Yep.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I watch Keno divest himself of his suit right down to his underwear. More and more, every time I see him naked, I get a little nervous. In the following days, we’re going to start getting reminders for some sexual things. We’re master cuddlers now. We cuddle so fucking good I think we should get awards for it.

And hugs, too! They’re the best. Simple kisses have become natural. Holding hands is pretty nice, too. Like a reminder that my person is right there. So close that simply holding hands is possible. Even for no reason at all, like standing quietly in a long line while we both doomscroll on our phones.

We’ve gotten the romantic things down; things that facilitate the beginning of a romantic connection and begin to spark some intimate moments, too.

Next is touch. Lots of touching of skin. And yeah, I’m nervous. I try not to be because I know Keno is. His fear of one or both of us not liking it makes him anxious, so I make sure he only ever gets confidence from me. But I’m definitely nervous too.

Only, I’m nervous for different reasons. I’m not all too concerned about whether we’ll like it. I don’t think that’s going to be an issue. Quite simply, hands down, guys like to get off. Close your eyes and a hand is a hand. A mouth is a mouth. And, following that line of thought, a hole is a hole.

Add to that the fact we do care about each other a lot and I think we’ll be just fine. I’ve always heard sex is better with the person you love. There’s no doubt in my mind that I love Keno. Maybe it’s not the romantic kind of love, but I still love him more than anyone in this entire world. That counts for something.

That’s why we’re getting married with the confidence that we’re going to be a great couple.

No. I’m not nervous about any of that. I’m nervous because this is Keno. My best friend. I’m going to touch his dick.

The days to that moment are ticking down. I know we both feel it. The pressure. Some nerves. The anxiety. And the excitement.

I slip into my shorts, a shirt, and my sneakers and then sit on the edge of the bed. I’m about to take out my phone when Keno stands in front of me. My eyes are right at crotch level. Raising a brow, I look up into his face to find he’s grinning.

“This is a good position to start, no?”

“You want to stay in and do this?” I tease.

He hesitates. I know he’s as horny as I am. It’s been a really long time since I’ve touched anyone else and gotten off. I also know it’s been just as long for Keno.

Which leads to more nerves because it might be over embarrassingly fast that first time or two.

Keno sighs and holds out his hand. “Come on, Etna. An hour. You can hold out for an hour, can’t you?”

Honestly, I thought I had him there. Taking his hand, I let him pull me to my feet.

“Do you really not want to go out?” he asks and then leans in to give me a quick peck on my lips. “If you really don’t want to, we can stay in.”

I shake my head. “It’s fine. I don’t know why I’m dragging my feet. Let’s go. I can survive an hour, as you said.”

He smiles. “It’ll be fun. Promise.”

The fun he promised turns out to be something none of us could have expected. We stand on the side and look out among the dozens of tables of older people playing checkers and board games. There are tiki poles lining the area and a big fire pit surrounded by food.

“I think you read the ad wrong,” Hilt says.

“Can I help you?” an older man asks as he comes closer.

“Uh… I think I misunderstood the flyer,” Horny admits. “I’m not sure we reach the age threshold.”

The man chuckles. “You’re welcome to join us. It’s $10 if you’d like to eat, but otherwise, the games with good company are free.”

Horny looks at us with an apology. Julian shrugs. “We’re here. Let’s go find some adoptive grandparents to take us in.”

Keno and I pay our combined $20 and grab a plate of food before we look for two seats together at a table with three older women. He asks if we can join them and they gesture enthusiastically to the seat.

“I’m Marge,” one says. “This is Lucy and Beth.”

“Nice to meet you,” I say. “Thanks for letting us join in.”

“Our pleasure,” Lucy flirts, waggling her eyebrows at us.

“And who are you strapping young men?” Marge asks.

“Keno. This is Etna.”

“Are you from around here?” Lucy asks. “I have a granddaughter about your age.”

Keno bows his head, taking a bite of food so he doesn’t have to answer.

“We’re visiting.”

“That’s too bad. You’ll make lovely babies one day,” Lucy muses, sighing wistfully. “I have lovely babies. And lovely grandbabies.”

“Lucy, dear. Hush,” Marge chides and turns back to us. “What brings you to Tampa?”

“Hockey,” Keno answers.

“Ohhh,” all three women respond. I laugh.

“No wonder you have all those muscles,” Beth says, her eyes on Keno’s arms.

“My grandson plays soccer,” Lucy says. “He’s ten, so he has a bit to go before he’s pro.”

“A few years,” I agree.

There’s something about old ladies and their inability to speak with a filter. My grandmother always says she’s lived her life; so as long as she’s respectful, she can say what she wants. The younger, sensitive generation just needs some thicker skin. In her opinion, they get offended far too easily.

When we’re done eating, we play a round of Sorry! with Beth narrating since there are only four colors. I’m a little surprised when Keno gets to his feet after the game. “Thank you, ladies. We really appreciate how welcoming you’ve been.”

“Dearie, you don’t need to leave yet,” Marge says. “It’s almost midnight. You don’t want to miss the fireworks.”

He grabs my arm and pulls me up.

“I’m afraid we do, but if you’re still here when we come back through, we’ll stop for another game,” Keno promises.

I have no idea what he’s talking about.

We share hugs with the grandmas and then Keno’s dragging me away. “Is that your excuse to get out of here?” I ask.

“No. Come on. We have ten minutes, and it’ll take us eight minutes to get there if we run.” Keno takes off down the beach.

I stare after him for a minute before I follow. If you’ve ever run on the sand, you know how incredibly difficult and challenging it is. I run a lot—it’s necessary for the sport we play. But running on sand makes me feel like I’m stupidly out of shape.

Keno leads us down to the wet sand, which is a big improvement on the loose sand, but he doesn’t slow down. He’s sprinting, and it takes all my energy to keep up with him. No breath to ask him where we’re going.

I eventually realize we’re headed to the docks in the distance. What feels like hours later, one painful cramp, and miserable thirst, we stop on the dock. I lean over, my hands on my knees as I catch my breath. Holy fuck.

“Come on,” Keno says, breathless. “There’s water on board.”

“On board what? An ambulance?”

He snorts, but it sounds tired. His hand grabs my wrist. “Come on, Etna.”

I let him pull me upright and find a large pontoon boat in front of us with a captain at the open fence or whatever special boat name it has. Keno guides me along, so I step on first. Then he follows.

As soon as we’re seated, we’re handed drinks and shown where there’s a cooler. I may chug down my water and crack open a second. When I’ve caught my breath and don’t think I’m going to pass out from dehydration, I say, “A warning you’re trying to kill me beforehand would be nice.”

Keno smiles. The boat is already moving along the water when the first burst in the sky makes us look up. The one-minute warning that we’re nearing midnight.

I look at him. “You booked us a boat ride for midnight?”

He’s still smiling when he meets my eyes. “Maybe.”

“I think you got romance down more than you think you do.”

I sip on my water as I stare at the sky. Waiting. The captain tells us from which direction they’ll be coming and where we should look for the best, clearest view. I’m still staring at the sky when the fireworks begin.

I’ve seen New Year’s fireworks all across the country over the last five years. I’ve been on sky rises, in fields, and on the streets of New York City. This is my first time on a boat, watching from the ocean.

They’re stunning. I look down to see if Keno’s enjoying them as much as I am, and my lungs empty of oxygen entirely when I find him on his knee and holding a ring. I can’t catch my breath, which is extra dangerous when you’re on a boat.

The fireworks burst overhead, coloring his face in a rainbow of colors. I can see them explode in his eyes.

“Will you marry me, Etna?” he asks.

For just a second—one frozen, unbelievable second—I stare at this man who’s dominated my world since the moment we met. As I stare into his eyes, the world around us fades away. This is the best, most right decision we’ve ever made.

“Yes,” I say, unsure if it’s loud enough for him to hear.

Keno smiles and takes my hand, slipping the ring on my finger. He stands and I yank him into my arms, gripping him so fucking tightly that maybe I hear his ribs crack.

“Not gonna lie,” I say, “that was super swoony.”

He takes a step back. “Yeah? I did okay?”

“Perfect, Keno. Pretty sure I just fell in love with you a little bit.”

A grin splits his face and I pull him against me again. The sky around us explodes in dazzling colors. The ocean rocks us gently. My heart beats against the only person in the world who has a rhythm just like mine.

This year is going to be epic. I know it is.