Page 9

July 2006

“We’ll probably be here for a while,” Riley said.

Adam glanced over his sunglasses at the front of the boat, where Harvey Tuck, behind the wheel, was chatting with the man who’d pulled his own boat up next to theirs. “That’s cool. I’ve got nowhere to be.”

To demonstrate, Adam folded his arms behind his head and slid lower on the bench seat, bare legs outstretched in front of him. He tilted his face up to the sun and smiled.

Beside him, Riley stood. “I might swim.”

“Yeah?” Adam watched him pull his shirt off. His broad shoulders were tanned and dotted with freckles, and his golden chest hair glistened in the sun.

“You comin’?”

Adam glanced uneasily at the dark water surrounding the boat. He didn’t trust the ocean, even the calm waters in the harbor they were puttering around.

“You’re not going to get eaten,” Riley teased.

“You can’t promise that.”

“I’ll fight any sharks off.” Riley flexed his biceps.

Adam believed him. Riley was always quick to fight anyone who touched Adam during games. “All right,” Adam said, removing his sunglasses. He didn’t trust the ocean, but he did trust Riley. “Fuck it. I’d love to watch you punch a shark.”

Riley executed a perfect dive off the small swim platform at the back of the boat. Adam, not interested in venturing too deep below the gentle waves, eased himself in via the ladder.

“It’s fucking cold,” he complained when he was only shin deep.

Riley laughed. “Come on, Ontario. Let go of the ladder.”

Adam descended another step, his breath catching in his chest. “No. What the hell. No, Riles.”

“You get used to it. Just jump.”

This was Adam’s fifth summer visiting Avery River, and he knew from experience that, yes, eventually his body would adjust to the frigid water, but he suspected it was only because his body simply stopped functioning.

“Ah, Jesus,” he yelped as he went as deep as his waist. “I’m never going to be able to have kids. My balls just fell off.”

“That’d be a shame,” Riley said, and Adam was pretty sure he didn’t mean about the kids.

They hadn’t touched each other since he’d arrived three days ago. Not like that. They hadn’t last summer either, not the entire three weeks that Adam had visited. Or any of the summers before that. He knew he shouldn’t be touching Riley like that anywhere, but for some reason it made sense during the hockey season. Not all the time, but sometimes.

They weren’t gay. Adam just liked having sex with his friend sometimes. He liked doing everything with Riley, so why not a bit of sex? It didn’t mean anything, and no one had to know. It was just for them. A way of burning off adrenaline after a game, or nerves before one. A way to kill time when they were stuck in a hotel for a few hours. A way to feel good when there was no reason not to.

But one day Adam would meet the woman he would want to marry. And he’d have to explain to her why his fucking balls had fallen off.

“I seriously can’t even fucking breathe,” Adam complained, slightly panicked. He glanced over his shoulder at Riley, who was treading water happily. “Are you a merman or some shit? How are you so comfortable?”

“You’re basically all the way in now anyway. Just swim, Shep.”

Adam squeezed his eyes shut, muttered, “Fuck,” and let go of the ladder. He screeched a bit as the water numbed everything below his chin, and Riley laughed.

“I h-hate you,” Adam panted as he swam toward Riley. “Fu-fuck you.”

Riley disappeared beneath the water.

“No,” Adam said. “Don’t. Where are you?”

Beneath the water, a hand clasped his ankle. Adam yelped and yanked his leg away. Riley popped up beside him, splashing water everywhere. Adam shoved him as best he could, but he was treading water and Riley was basically a cement wall.

He was also breathtakingly beautiful in that moment, all smiles with the sun glinting on his wet hair. Was that a normal thought to have about your best friend? Even one you’ve been recreationally fucking for a couple of years?

“See? It’s nice.”

“Yeah,” Adam said distantly. “Nice.”

Hours later, sunburned and thirsty, they entered the Dropped Anchor together. Harv had told them the owner had some jerseys for them to sign.

The kindest way to describe the Dropped Anchor was to call it a dive bar. A more honest description was a total dump. Just a sad, dark rectangular room full of white men of various ages. An older model television in one corner showed sports—baseball at the moment—and was the only source of entertainment.

“Benny,” Riley said as he approached the bar. “What’s happening, man?”

“Not a damn thing,” the man, Benny, said. “The Jays are losing.”

“Fine with me. I’m a Red Sox fan.”

Adam gasped. “I didn’t know that. Why are we friends?”

Riley looped an arm around his neck. “Because you need someone to fight sharks.”

By then, Adam had started to hear his own name being murmured throughout the tavern. It was something he’d gotten used to, as much as anyone could get used to it. Over the past season he’d evolved from an exciting young prospect to a full-blown hockey star, complete with an invitation to the All-Star game, and being named Toronto’s new captain only a couple of weeks ago. He was getting recognized a lot these days.

And, of course, everyone in town knew he was here, visiting Riley.

“Dad said you have some jerseys you want us to sign?” Riley said.

“Is that why those are here? No one tells me anything,” Benny grumbled as he ducked down behind the bar. He resurfaced with an overstuffed plastic bag. He thrust it at Riley. “Here you go.”

“You got a Sharpie or something?” Riley asked.

Benny patted his chest. “No.”

Riley shot Adam an exhausted glance, and Adam had to press his lips together to keep from laughing.

“I got one,” someone called from the end of the bar, a white man wearing worn and stained work clothes. He nearly fell off his barstool as he held the pen out. “I always have one on me for work. You can borrow it. You can keep it, um, Mr. Sheppard.”

Adam smiled and took the pen. “I don’t need to keep it. And you can call me Adam. Or Shep.”

“Yes sir, Shep,” said the man, who was at least ten years older than Adam. “And if it’s not too much trouble, would you sign something for me?”

“Of course. My pleasure.”

They laid the jerseys out on the bar and took turns signing. Riley was wearing a tank top that had really huge arm holes, exposing skin from his armpits to nearly his waist. When he leaned over the bar, Adam could see his nipple. He forced himself to look away.

By the time Riley and Adam were finally alone at a table with pints of beer, they’d signed the jerseys, a couple of ball caps, several five-dollar bills, and a bunch of scraps of paper torn from a notebook someone had.

“It’s fucking wild, right?” Adam said as he leaned back in his chair, sun drunk and happy. He tapped the toe of his sneaker against Riley’s ankle. “We can make someone’s whole fucking day just by writing our names on a piece of paper for them.”

Riley tapped Adam back, the side of his ankle brushing against Adam’s calf. “You can, maybe, Captain .”

“Oh fuck off. Like you’re not a star.”

Riley grinned and wrapped his right arm over his head, grabbing the elbow with his left hand to get a good stretch. It made his biceps look huge, and also exposed his hairy armpits, which Adam found fascinating for some reason. Most dudes had hairy armpits. Adam had hairy armpits. And huge biceps. And eyes and lips and strong hands. Riley wasn’t special.

They finished their pints, and then another round, talking and laughing as if they were old friends catching up, instead of two guys who should, by all rights, have nothing left to say to each other.

Adam was just tipsy enough from the weak beer to be wondering if there was somewhere private he could go with Riley. It would go against their unspoken rule of never fooling around in the summer, but he’d been pretty hot for Riley all day. The tank top wasn’t helping.

Something must have shown on his face because Riley tapped his foot against Adam’s ankle again and said, “I was thinking we could go to this beach I know. Maybe have a bonfire.”

Adam smiled. “Sounds cool.”

He learned, when he was back in Riley’s brand-new truck, that Riley had planned ahead. When Adam asked about firewood, Riley said he had everything he needed in the back of the truck. Adam felt a familiar twist of pleasure and panic, his usual reaction to anything Riley said or did that seemed romantic.

“Is beer one of the things?” he asked as a way of avoiding feelings.

“Yep. Got it on ice in a cooler.”

Adam wondered what else Riley had deemed necessary for this beach date. Blankets? Champagne? Condoms?

It’s not a date, dickhead , Adam scolded himself. You might fool around a little. Whatever.

But the romance factor got cranked way the fuck up when they reached their destination. The beach was a small, lonely crescent of sand, dramatically lit by the vanishing sun. Gentle waves lazily lapped at the sand, and other than a couple of gulls, he and Riley were alone.

“Not many people come to this one,” Riley said. “There are so many around, and this one’s small and doesn’t have parking or bathrooms or anything.”

“It’s awesome,” Adam said.

Riley looked pleased.

They made their careful way over some rocks to the sand below. Adam wasn’t looking forward to navigating those rocks in total darkness later, but that was a future problem.

“We should make the fire before the light is gone,” Riley said.

Adam had no idea how to make a bonfire, so he sprawled on the blanket Riley had indeed packed and watched him work. Secretly, Adam was pretty turned on generally by Riley being good at stuff. Especially macho caveman shit. By the time the fire was blazing, Adam was half-hard.

Riley flopped on the blanket beside him. “Beer?”

“Yeah. Cool.”

Riley handed him a can. It was icy cold and dripping wet. Heaven.

For a long time, they just lay next to each other, drinking beer and talking and watching the fire. The waves kept a steady rhythm on the shore, and a crescent moon hung high above them. It felt really fucking magical.

“Have you ever seen the northern lights?” Adam asked. He was flat on his back, and Riley was sitting beside him.

“Nope.”

“Me neither. I really want to. Where do you have to go to see them?”

Riley nudged him. “North.”

“Yeah, but where ? Like is there a cool place to travel to see them?”

“I dunno. Iceland?”

“Sounds right. I heard they have hot springs there. Didn’t Cheesy go there with his girl last summer? I should ask him.”

“I think you have to go in the winter, to see the northern lights.”

Adam scrunched his nose. “Well, that fucking blows. I don’t have time to see anything in the winter.”

“Someday, maybe.”

Adam reached his arms over his head and gave his whole body a stretch. “Someday, Riles. You and me, sitting in a hot spring, watching the northern lights.”

“You and me,” Riley agreed quietly.

In the firelight, Adam could see the way his gaze was fixed on where Adam’s T-shirt had risen. Adam rested a hand there, letting his fingers idly tease at the exposed skin. Riley kept watching.

Adam liked the way Riley always looked at him. There was no question about it. He liked that he could spark heat in those wintry gray eyes just by exposing a bit of skin, or by smiling at him a certain way. Adam smiled at him that way now.

He liked that Riley was hot for him. It made Adam feel less weird about being hot for Riley.

Riley bent the knee that was closest to Adam, which meant he was probably getting hard. Adam sat up so he could get closer.

Riley turned his gaze to the sky, so Adam did too.

“Jesus. I’ve never seen so many stars,” Adam said, legitimately awed.

Riley inched closer. “You can see a bit of the Milky Way there.”

“Oh wow,” Adam whispered. He brushed Riley’s leg with his bare foot, then draped it over Riley’s shin.

“And I think that’s Jupiter.”

“Where?”

“The really bright one. Look.” Riley took Adam’s wrist in his hand and guided it up. “Stick your finger out.”

Adam did, and Riley rested their heads together so he could almost see what Adam was seeing. Adam’s heart started racing.

“There,” Riley said, very quietly. “See it?”

Adam looked at the end of his own finger and saw a star that was brighter than most of the others. “That’s Jupiter?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s crazy that we can see it, y’know?”

“I know.”

Adam turned his face, just slightly, toward Riley’s. For a moment, he felt Riley’s breath against his lips, and he wondered if they were really going to do this. Then his question was answered when Riley’s lips brushed his own.

It got really heated, really fast. One minute they were gazing at the stars, the next they had their hands down each other’s shorts. The combination of the darkness and being outdoors and it being Riley had Adam so keyed up that he couldn’t even be embarrassed about how quickly he came. Whatever. He was young. He could do another round.

He and Riley had never gone more than one round in one night. They weren’t like that.

Maybe tonight could be like that. Maybe tonight could be…different. It was a scary thing to want, but Adam fucking wanted it. It felt safe here, so far from their teammates, and hockey journalists, and Adam’s parents.

Riley came less than a minute after him. They lay next to each other when it was over, both breathing hard.

“I gotta clean off,” Riley said when he’d caught his breath.

“You mean…” Adam glanced warily at the pitch-black ocean.

“Yeah. Come on.” Riley kicked off his shorts, which were barely still on his body anyway. Naked, glowing in the firelight like a god, he reached for Adam.

And how could Adam refuse?