Common Goal (Game Changers #4)- Rachel Reid Page 0,35
ready?” Kyle asked as he practically leaped off his seat to put some distance between himself and Eric.
“Yes. I think. Probably,” Eric stammered, lurched forward in the direction of the coffee maker, then stopped when he realized that’s where Kyle was headed. “You can, um. Check.”
“It looks done. The light is—”
“Green. Yes. The green light means done.”
“Okay.” Kyle almost laughed at how ridiculous they both sounded. “How do you take it? Black, right? Just a guess.”
“Black. Yes.”
Kyle promised himself to stop being flirty with poor Eric. It wasn’t doing either of them any good. He found two clear glass coffee mugs—all of Eric’s drinkware seemed to be clear glass—and filled them both with coffee. “Another guess: you don’t have cream.”
“I have oat milk.”
“Holy hell. All right. Where’s the oat milk?”
“In the fridge. It’s an unmarked glass bottle, but it’s the only thing that looks like milk. It’s beside the green juice.”
Kyle opened the fridge and stared for probably a full minute. It looked like a cold storage unit at a lab more than a fridge. It was immaculate, for one thing. One shelf held an array of unmarked glass bottles containing various colors of very healthy-looking liquids. Another shelf held jars full of what looked like some sort of oatmeal or wet grains. There were eggs, yogurt, berries, and a few condiments, all neatly organized. The crisper drawers appeared to be full of fresh produce.
Kyle thought of the fridge in the apartment he shared with Maria. It was crammed full of god knows what. Definitely cheese, beer, and leftover takeout. There might be a vegetable in there.
“This looks like a magazine advertisement for refrigerators,” Kyle said. “This is what I imagine Gwyneth Paltrow’s fridge looking like.”
“There are no jokes you can make about my diet that my teammates haven’t made a million times.”
“You’re so healthy. How do you do that?”
“It’s important. I can’t perform at my best if I don’t take care of my body. Especially at my age.”
“Right. Such an old man at forty-one.”
“In hockey years I’m ancient.”
“Well, you look all right to me.” Oops. He handed Eric a mug of black coffee, meeting his gaze and finding the same interest he’d seen last night. Kyle pulled his hand back quickly, not trusting himself not to brush Eric’s fingers with his own. Stupid sexy Eric.
Kyle took a sip of perfectly brewed coffee that was only slightly hindered by the oat milk, and tried to think of a way to throw a bucket of ice water on the conversation. He definitely needed to steer things away from sex.
But Eric ruined everything by saying, “I’ve been thinking about sex a lot lately.”
“Oh?” Kyle asked, a little squeakily. “Any reason?”
“Yeah. I’m, um. I’m...bisexual.” Eric blew out a breath after he said it. “I’ve never said that out loud before. Wow.”
Wait. What the fuck? “You’ve never told anyone that before?”
“No. Not yet, anyway. I want to. I just...haven’t. Yet.”
“But you’re telling me?”
Eric’s brow furrowed. “Should I not have?”
Oh god. Kyle was being a douche. “No! No, I’m glad you told me. I’m...flattered. That you felt you could trust me. You can, you know. Trust me. I won’t tell anyone.”
“I appreciate that. I want to tell everyone soon. But for now... I just wanted to tell someone. If that makes sense.”
“It does! Totally. And I’m honored. But it doesn’t really answer my question about why you’re thinking about sex a lot lately.”
“Right. That wasn’t what I meant.” Eric laughed uneasily. “It’s more that I’ve been thinking about maybe, you know, dating. Men, I mean. But I don’t really know how.”
“How? Like...you don’t know how to have sexy times with a man?”
“I don’t even know how to find a man to have sexy times with.”
Kyle grinned broadly. “I’m no expert—actually, that’s a lie. I totally am—but I think you could probably walk into a gay bar and walk out with, like, five very willing men. You’ve seen yourself, right?”
Eric shook his head, but he was smiling. “Do I whistle or something to announce my presence?”
“Yes. Or, if you can do one of those hog calls?”
“Oh god,” Eric said, laughing. “Yuck.”
“I mean, you asked how to pick up men. Don’t blame me if you don’t like how it works.”
“If,” Eric said, still laughing, “you think of any actually useful advice for the forty-one-year-old divorcé who is looking to meet a nice man, please let me know.”
“Are you looking for someone to date or just, like, trade blowjobs?”
Eric’s whole face turned pink, which was incredible to witness.