Common Goal (Game Changers #4)- Rachel Reid Page 0,12

who had a well-earned reputation as a ladies man, who was a famous hockey player from Russia, for fuck’s sake—calmly approaching them in a gay nightclub. To this day Eric couldn’t wrap his head around it.

“So he’s in New York City, home of some of the best nightlife in the world, and he wants to hang out with you?”

“Yeah. Because I’m very cool and fun now. Haven’t you heard?” Scott nudged him playfully. Eric forced a smile, but having Rozanov there would...complicate things. Eric wasn’t quite ready to tell Scott his true reason for joining him tonight, let alone Ilya Rozanov. Eric wanted to come out to Scott—he thought he might want to come out to everyone—but he didn’t like to do anything until he had all of his ducks in a row. For whatever reason, it made sense to Eric to try out flirting with a man first. Maybe going on a date or two, or kissing a man; anything that might make his bisexuality seem real. If he did that, he might be able to tell his best friend, with confidence, that he was bisexual.

The ridiculous thing was that he could hear Scott’s voice in his head, scolding him for believing he needed to prove his own sexuality to himself. But still, Eric wanted to be sure, and he didn’t want Scott to guess that Eric was at the bar to ogle Kyle. Unfortunately, Rozanov seemed a lot more observant. A lot more into giving people shit too.

The car pulled in front of the bar, and Scott and Eric thanked the driver as they slid out of luxurious leather seats and into the bracing cold of late November. They hurried inside, with backpacks crammed full of their discarded clothing slung over their shoulders.

The Kingfisher was, as always, warm and lively, despite being noticeably rough around the edges. Most of the chairs and tables had patches where the wood stain had worn off. The wallpaper was torn and peeling in places. The speakers in the corners that pumped pop music into the bar were in desperate need of dusting. The large television in one corner showing a West Coast NBA game was an older model. It was a bit of a dump, but there was something comforting and inviting about the place.

Most of the tables were full, but Kip dashed over as soon as he spotted Scott and gestured to an empty table near the bar. It had a little reserved sign on it, which Eric was sure was only ever used for Scott’s visits.

Kip greeted Scott with a kiss, which went on long enough that Eric had to look away.

“You were amazing tonight, sweetheart,” Kip said, his arms still looped around Scott’s neck. “We had the game on in here. You were awesome too, Eric.”

“Thanks.” Eric scanned the room and spotted a familiar trim body in faded jeans and a form-fitting white T-shirt. He was at a table across the room, standing with his back to Eric, but Eric had no problem recognizing him.

“Have a seat,” Kip said cheerfully. “I’ll bring you boys a lager and a soda water with lime?” He glanced at Eric with raised eyebrows, silently checking to make sure he’d remembered Eric’s usual correctly.

“Soda with lime, yes. Thank you.”

Kip left to get their drinks, and Scott never took his eyes off him. Eric carefully turned his gaze on Kyle, letting his eyes linger for a few seconds, and then looking away. Kyle was smiling at an attractive young man who was standing at the bar in the same space Eric had been standing the other night. The wicked glint in Kyle’s eyes as he talked to the man now was the same glint that had been there when he’d been flirting with Eric that night.

A hot stab of jealousy bloomed absurdly in Eric’s chest. This was Kyle’s job. He flirted with countless men like this all the time. Eric had just been one of them. He wasn’t special.

But then Kyle’s gaze met Eric’s, and Kyle’s eyes went wide as the smile fell from his lips. It was only for a second, and then Kyle snapped out of it and turned his attention back to his customer, lips turned up in a seductive smile once again.

* * *

Oh no. What was he doing here again?

Kyle could accept that Eric Bennett was here at the Kingfisher to keep his friend company. It probably had nothing to do with Kyle. But that would mean ignoring the way