The Play of His Life

by Amy Aislin

  But seriously, where was Christian? Why wasn’t he snuggled up to Riley so they could rub one off on each other before they had to start their days?

  “’Morning.”

  Riley raised his head. His eyes were blurry with sleep but he could make Christian out, sitting in a wingback chair next to the closet, feet on a matching ottoman, laptop on his thighs, wearing nothing but his boxer briefs and a scowl. Riley knuckled the sleep out of his eyes.

  “Time’s it?” he asked, admiring the way the dark hair on Christian’s thighs and arms made them look so muscly. The size of those shoulders he could see over the laptop. His pouty mouth pursed in a frown. The disheveled dark hair that was, sadly, out of its pompadour style and hanging half in Christian’s face and half straight up in the air. He looked like the character with the crazy hair from Dragon Ball Z. Riley’s morning wood tried to convince him to make his way over there and straddle Christian’s lap, but mostly he was happy to lay here and admire him. He went all mushy inside when he realized that, at some point, Christian had put on his T necklace.

  “Seven thirty.”

  Oh, hell no. They’d spent hours talking after Christian’s mom interrupted what would’ve been a stupendous blowjob, finally falling asleep around three in the morning. Seven thirty was way too early. Riley let his head drop onto the pillow and closed his eyes.

  “Come back to bed,” he said.

  Christian grunted. “In a bit.”

  Riley’s chest rumbled with annoyance. “What’re you doing?” Come cuddle with me!

  “Fixing your website.”

  “Huh?” Riley popped an eye open. “What? Why?”

  “Because it’s a piece of crap,” came the honest reply. Maybe Riley ought to rethink the whole not-an-asshole thing.

  “Hey! I paid good money for that.”

  Christian just looked at him.

  “Fine,” Riley grumbled. “I did it myself.”

  The tap-tap-tap of the keyboard filled the room. It should’ve been annoying, but he found it oddly soothing. Maybe because he knew it meant Christian was right there, within reach, and he could finally relax and stop dwelling on the past.

  “How’d you get my login info, anyway?”

  “Please. You’ve had the same username and password since high school.”

  And Christian remembered it. All these years later. Aw. Riley’s heart swam with affection.

  “You don’t even have your menu on here,” Christian muttered, click-clacking away. “Or pictures. Or information about who runs it or anything about the fact that you’re nut-free and have gluten-free and vegan options. There’s nothing about your delicious, magical hot chocolate. You should really advertise that. And you don’t even say that you’re a former NHL player.”

  Riley sighed. Seven thirty was way too early to talk business but fine. If Christian wanted to do this now, he was game.

  “Because I don’t want people coming into the shop because I’m a hockey player,” he explained. “I want them to come because the food’s good.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  Groaning, Riley shifted until his head was half buried under his pillow. “You’re making my head hurt.”

  “You want to advertise that a former NHL player owns, and works at, Warm Glow,” Christian said, slowly, like he was explaining something to a toddler. Or a really old person. “Playing pro hockey makes you a celebrity in Canada, you know that right? So they come in to check out the shop and see what the hockey player is up to. And let’s face it: probably also to get an autograph and a picture. But then they come back because the food is delicious and the ambiance is awesome and the service is flawless and you have magic chocolate.”

  Huh. That actually made sense. Everything except the magic chocolate, that was.

  “How do you know this stuff?” Riley asked.

  “I work in digital marketing.” Christian said it like that was information Riley should’ve known. Which he did. He just forgot. Or maybe “forgot” was the wrong word. Purposefully didn’t think about it? Yes, that was more accurate. He’d even thought once, very briefly, about asking Christian for help with the website. Back when he and Sam first started talking seriously about going into business together. But he’d chickened out and so had pushed the thought far away. Very, very far away.

  “I also made you a Facebook page. And I bought you a domain name and signed you up for a new theme and re-skinned your WordPress website,” Christian was saying now.

  “I literally have no idea what you just said.” How the hell was he supposed to make changes to his site if he didn’t know how to use the damn thing?

  Christian must’ve read his mind. “I’ll write you a user guide.”

  Riley perked up. Though he didn’t come out of his pillow nest. “Yeah?”

  Knowing Christian, the user guide would have screenshots and arrows and be so detailed even his Grandma Geneviève would be able to navigate the backend of his new website even though she’d never touched a computer in her life.

  Speaking of backend…

  “Can’t you do that later?” Riley asked.

  “Yeah.”

  Riley waited. When Christian didn’t get the hint, he said, “So, why don’t you?”

  “’Cause I’m doing it now.”

  Oh, for the love of… The man was impossible.

  “If I offer to blow you, will you come back to bed?”

  Silence. Riley emerged from his nest. His hair was probably a mess and he had morning breath but they’d never cared about that kind of thing, so screw it.

  Christian was looking at him curiously. “Are you offering to blow me? Or are you just saying that so I’ll come cuddle?”

  Riley thought about it for a second, then said, “Both. Blowjob first. Then cuddles.” He lifted the bedcovers and patted the empty space next to him in invitation.

  Christian took it, thank Christ. The man finally got the picture. Mornings weren’t for working. They were for morning shenanigans.

  The day’s first kiss from Christian gave Riley butterflies. After last night it felt like they could do this without their past getting in the way. Christian’s lips were soft against his, a direct contrast to how hard his body was. Christian clearly kept himself in shape, though he hadn’t played hockey in years. Or maybe he did, in some kind of rec league in Vancouver. Something to ask about later. When Christian’s tongue wasn’t in his mouth.

  Never taking his lips away from Christian’s, Riley pushed Christian so he was flat on his back beneath him. Their legs tangled under the covers, thighs against thighs. Their erections collided and it felt fucking amazing even through cotton and they both groaned at the contact. Christian’s hands slipped into Riley’s underwear to cup his ass. Riley shivered and captured Christian’s bottom lip in his mouth.

  Riley was always surprised at how hot Christian’s icy blue eyes could get. Like they were right now, charged with want and desire. Riley was sure Christian’s passion was reflected in his own eyes.

  Wanting Christian’s dick in his mouth desperately, he kissed his way down Christian’s chest, sucking a nipple into his mouth and—

  “Christian! Riley!”

  Riley froze. Christian’s nipple popped out of his mouth.

  “Are you fucking serious, right now?” Christian asked no one in particular.

  “Crepes will be ready in ten minutes!”

  “How does she know?” Christian asked, looking genuinely perplexed. “It’s like she’s purposely trying to cockblock me.” Riley couldn’t help it. He started to laugh. “My blue balls are gonna look like the fucking Smurfs.”

  Laughing too hard to hold himself up, Riley fell next to Christian on the bed. He noted that like Riley’s, Christian’s boner had all but wilted.

  “Next sleepover’s at my house,” he said.

  “Deal.”

  * * *

  A few minutes later, Riley lay in Christian’s bed listening to the sounds of Christian rifling through his sui
tcase. God, he was tired. They’d fallen asleep so late and he’d been up at six yesterday morning and… Maybe he could take a nap later. Christmas Day was for doing nothing, especially when your family wasn’t around.

  Everything was so different now than it had been a few days ago. Sunnier. Not that his life hadn’t been fulfilling. He had Warm Glow and Sam and his friends. But now he had Christian too and that just made everything better.

  Not that Riley had any idea what the future held for them. By mutual agreement it appeared that that particular conversation was off the table for now and they were just going to…wing it? See where the next few days took them? It was probably not the greatest way to move forward. They’d end up hurting each other again that way. Riley told himself not to get his hopes up. They had the next eight days to get to know each other again and to—hopefully—fool around some. Then Christian would be on a flight to Vancouver and they’d go back to being just friends who visited each other every once in a while.

  Could they really do that? Christian hadn’t moved back home after he graduated from UBC because he thought Riley didn’t want him here. Riley thought he’d made it clear last night that that wasn’t the case. So maybe Christian would move back now.

  Don’t get your hopes up, you idiot!

  His sigh was miserable to his own ears and he snuggled deeper into the bed, wishing he could go back to sleep. Only the thought of that potential afternoon nap convinced him to open his eyes.

  Gaze snagging on Christian’s scrapbook, Riley brought the bedcovers up over his mouth so he could smile stupidly without Christian seeing him. That scrapbook was proof that Christian hadn’t forgotten about him, that he wasn’t mad at him. Proof that Christian still cared. Christian hadn’t mentioned it but Riley had seen the ticket stubs for his Toronto at Vancouver games. From what he could tell, Christian had been to all of them. He wanted to kick himself in the ’gnads for all those missed opportunities. What must it have been like for Christian to sit in the stands and watch him play? What must it have been like for him to come visit Riley in the hospital after his injury and see him surrounded by friends and family? Had he felt like an outsider looking in? Like he didn’t belong? Like Riley had moved on with his life and didn’t need him anymore?

  Eyeing the scrapbook again, he swallowed past the ball in his throat. That scrapbook was proof that Christian was still taking care of him, all these years later and despite all those years apart and the way Riley had left things six years ago.

  It had always surprised Riley that Christian didn’t play goalie. He’d always been so protective of the people he loved, it just made sense. Sure, he was a grumpy fucker most of the time, but he took care of his family and he put everyone he loved before himself. And he took care of Riley. Always had. The way he was with Riley was a hard one-eighty to how he was with everyone else. More patient. More careful. More tender. Goalie just made sense, but no. The guy wanted to play defense.

  Actually, now that Riley thought about it… Okay, yeah. Defense made a lot of sense. Defense was who Christian was. How had he not seen that before?

  I’m sorry for not being strong enough to hold on to you.

  Christian’s words from last night reached down into Riley’s soul and twisted it viciously. As Christian zipped his suitcase, Riley rubbed a hand over his chest. How did he convey to Christian that none of this was his fault? Or at least, not just his fault. They’d both fucked up.

  Riley hadn’t been lying when he’d told Christian that he’d thought he could have it all. It was why he’d stayed in Colorado for hockey camp that summer. He’d been a stupid kid, high on himself and his budding career, who thought the world was within reach and all he had to do was take it.

  All he’d wanted, for as long as he could remember, was hockey and Christian. And for a while everything had been amazing and he’d had both.

  And then he’d had hockey but no Christian.

  Now he had Christian but no hockey.

  It was blatantly obvious to him now in hindsight that he couldn’t have everything, despite what Christian said. He wished someone would’ve told him that a long time ago. Because he would’ve picked Christian, hands down.

  Rolling to the edge of the bed, Riley stuck an arm out from under the covers. “T?”

  Christian finished pulling up a pair of faded-gray sweatpants before crouching next to Riley’s head. The way he took Riley’s hand and brought it up to his mouth to kiss the back made Riley’s vision blurry.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Please don’t ever break up with me again.

  If I asked you to move home, would you?

  If I moved to Vancouver, would that be okay?

  I’m sorry.

  I was an idiot.

  I missed you so much.

  It was only the second time in his life that he had no idea what to say to Christian. How to express what he felt and what was in his heart. The first time was six years ago when Christian’s dad died. What did you say to someone whose life had just shattered?

  Nothing, as it turned out. Because there wasn’t anything that could make it better.

  The necklace around Christian’s throat caught his attention. The leather cord was long enough that the T sat right between Christian’s defined pecs. Riley reached out and picked it up, tracing his thumb over the metal.

  The fact that Christian was wearing it meant everything. The fact that he wore it without knowing what it meant was even better.

  Not that Riley would ever tell him that he’d started calling Christian T from the moment they met because he thought his name was Tristan for an entire week before he’d learned otherwise. Christian and Tristan sounded the same to his seven-year-old ears and he was still too embarrassed to own up to it.

  Not to mention that telling Christian would ruin the magic of it at this point.

  Forcing his melancholy mood away, Riley smiled at him and said, “Think the crepes are ready?”

  Christian tilted his head and regarded him with those eyes that saw too much. He seemed to debate with himself for a second on what to say. Finally, he smiled back and used the hand not in Riley’s to pull the covers off the bed and thus off Riley.

  “Let’s go see.”

  They walked into the kitchen a few minutes later. Riley felt severely underdressed… It was Christmas. He should at least put on a pair of clean jeans and a nice shirt, not the flannel pants and hoodie he’d climbed through Christian’s window in last night. But Christian was dressed similarly to him. And so was Sylvie Dufresne, as it turned out.

  “Finally!” she said. “I was about to send Trevor to look for you.”

  Underneath the kitchen table, Trevor lifted his head at his name. When no one gave him any food, he settled his little black and white head back onto his paws.

  Sylvie stood at the stove in a bathrobe over a nightgown, wielding a spatula like a goalie wields his hockey stick—with ease and experience.

  Christian started pulling stuff from the fridge and pantry for the crepes—maple syrup, brown sugar, cottage cheese, fruit—so Riley made himself useful and set the electric teakettle to boil before getting plates to set the table. He and Christian moved around each other with ease, as though they’d done this a million times or like their awareness of each other caused them to instinctually sidestep each other.

  Riley was grabbing cutlery from a drawer when Sylvie said, “So…how’d you sleep?” Was her voice full of innuendo or was that Riley’s imagination?

  Behind him, Riley heard Christian’s forehead thump against the cabinet.

  “Very well, thank you,” Riley said, suppressing a chuckle.

  “I don’t know why you still bother sneaking in the window,” Sylvie said, flipping the crepe in the pan to cook the other side. “We have a front door.”

  “It’s tradition,” Riley explained.

  “Ah. Yes. I understand. My son, he’s big on tradition.”

  “He is.”

  “I’m standing righ
t here,” Christian reminded them unnecessarily.

  “Yes, we’re aware. It’s impossible to miss your grumpiness taking up all this space in my kitchen.”

  Riley’s snorted laugh contrasted sharply with Christian’s almost-subvocal growl.

  Christian scowled at Riley. “Don’t encourage her.”

  Amused with them both, Riley finished setting the table. When the teakettle went off, he made a cup of tea with a touch of milk and honey and handed it to Christian before getting a mug of his own and pouring himself some of the coffee Sylvie had already made.

  Turning for the bread box on the counter so he could make them some toast, he found Christian staring at his mug as if he’d never seen tea before.

  “You’re supposed to drink it,” Riley explained.

  Christian’s stony look was unimpressed.

  Chuckling to himself, Riley maneuvered around him to get the bread out of the bread box and—

  —Jesus. Sylvie could start her own Warm Glow mini-market with the amount of stuff she had in here from his shop. Scones and tarts and four different kinds of bread and pound cake and croissants. What did she do with it all? It was way too much for one person. Shrugging, he took out everything but the bread and put it on the table. Whatever the reason, it was sweet that she wanted to support him. Five minutes later, bread toasted, fruit cut, and crepes made, they sat around the table and dug in.

  Sylvie slathered a blueberry scone with butter. “These are my favorite.”

  Riley toasted her with his coffee mug before taking a sip. “I’ll tell Sam you said so.”

  “How come you don’t have donuts in your bakery?”

  Blinking, Riley looked at Christian seated next to him, who looked equally as confused.

  “Because Timmies,” Christian said.

  Sylvie waited for further explanation but when Christian went back to fixing his crepe she turned to Riley.

  “Tim Horton’s kind of owns the donut parade,” Riley explained. He ignored how warm Christian’s quiet chuckle made him feel and continued. “There’s no sense in competing with them.”