The Play of His Life

by Amy Aislin

  Riley shrugged. “There’s no practice today or tomorrow. I’m only missing two practices and the game on Thursday night.”

  “You might make Thursday’s game,” Christian said.

  “Maybe if we leave early tomorrow. But I already told them I wouldn’t be there, so…” He shrugged again. “I’ll be back bright and early for Friday morning practice.”

  Christian’s eyes seemed to glitter and he ran his knuckles over the scruff Riley hadn’t bothered to shave this morning. “I missed this face,” he whispered to himself.

  The joy Christian’s words produced made Riley feel like he was flying. He closed the inches between them and kissed Christian again, softly, just lips on lips.

  When he pulled back, Christian said, “Had I known you were coming, we could’ve left today. But I promised Eric a last night hanging out before I leave.”

  “That’s okay. Oddly, now that I’m here, the urgency to have you home has faded.” Christian grinned at Riley’s words. “I’m sorry I’m intruding on your night.”

  “Don’t be.” Christian kissed his temple. He couldn’t seem to stop kissing Riley. Not that Riley minded. In fact, had Eric not been here, Riley would’ve dragged Christian straight to the sleeping bag Riley knew he was using as a bed since he’d sold his bed frame and mattress last week.

  “Where are you guys headed?” Riley asked, wondering if he’d be invited (of course he would, who was he kidding?) and whether or not he’d be suitably dressed in jeans and a T-shirt seeing as those were all he’d brought with him in addition to a toothbrush.

  “Nowhere.” Christian jerked his head to an open box against the wall. “We’re staying here.”

  Riley finally released Christian to peer into the box, and couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re staying in to play board games instead of going out and getting rip roaring drunk?”

  “Yup.” Christian took a game called Name 5 out of the box. “I don’t want to be hungover tomorrow and Eric doesn’t drink. We’ll probably play this one. Last time Eric couldn’t name five dog breeds.”

  “Who doesn’t know five dog breeds?”

  “In my defense,” came a voice from the other side of Christian’s closed apartment door, “I’m more of a cat person.”

  Christian told his friend to come in. Riley watched them argue about whether or not Christian had told Eric to bring food, and breathed easily for the first time in thirty-two days.

  * * *

  Watching his man coach hockey was hot as fucking hell, but holy shit, Christian was tired.

  “Fuck,” he groaned into the couch cushion. “Why am I so tired?”

  He’d fallen face-first onto Riley’s couch as soon as they’d finished unloading the truck and hadn’t moved since.

  “Because we’ve been driving since Monday.” Riley’s voice came from above him. “Anyone would be tired after four days of driving. Here.”

  Christian rolled his head and saw Riley holding out a sweating beer bottle. He almost salivated.

  “God, I love you,” he said, sitting up to take the bottle. “And not just for the beer.”

  Riley chuckled and sat next to him, feet on the coffee table.

  The brew was cold and refreshing after a long few days hauling his crap across the country. Having Riley as company had made the trip infinitely more fun, but it had still been long, especially since he’d done most of the driving. Riley could only drive for so long before his old knee injury made itself known.

  “Why do I feel like twice run over roadkill,” Christian said, “and you look spry as a fucking daisy?”

  Riley tipped his head back and laughed. “I’m not not tired,” he said. “I’m just…”

  He didn’t seem able to find a word, so Christian filled it in for him. “High on adrenaline?” He poked Riley’s foot with his toe and laid his head on Riley’s shoulder. “Your team won tonight.” Miraculously, they’d made it on time for the seven o’clock game. Of course, it meant that it was almost ten by the time the game ended and Riley was free to leave. Then the twenty-minute drive home and unloading the truck in the dark, in weather that froze their fingers and toes. It was now almost midnight and Christian was wrecked.

  “Yeah,” Riley said. Christian could hear the grin in his voice. “I can’t take any credit for that, though. I’ve only been on the coaching staff for two weeks.”

  “Your goalie’s already playing better, though,” Christian told him.

  “You think?”

  “Definitely.”

  “I thought I was just seeing what I wanted to see.”

  “Compare tape from tonight’s game with one from last month,” Christian said. “You’ll see.”

  They sat together for a few minutes, relaxing, eyeing Christian’s boxes next to the fireplace. Riley eventually maneuvered them so that he sat with his back in a corner of the couch, Christian resting against him with his back to Riley’s chest, feet tangled on the coffee table.

  Being here with Riley, in his home—their home now—was surreal. He felt the stress of quitting his job, packing his belongings, selling his stuff, renting his apartment, just…fall away. It was crazy how everything they’d been through since they’d met in second grade had brought them here, to this point. Together again, still madly in love but still best friends too, sexual chemistry off the charts.

  Speaking of sexual chemistry… Riley was warm and solid behind him and he felt lust pool in his belly. He wasn’t that tired that he didn’t want to christen his new home. He set his beer on the table, but a deep sigh from Riley and what felt like an unclenching of every muscle in Riley’s body had Christian pausing.

  “You were worried,” he realized.

  Riley snorted an unamused laugh. “Seems stupid now.”

  “It’s not stupid,” Christian protested. Riley’s left arm was around his shoulders, his hand resting on Christian’s chest. Christian raised his palm to his lips for a kiss. “I’m sorry I didn’t realize.”

  “It is stupid,” Riley argued. “I mean there was this part of me I couldn’t shut off that was afraid you’d break up with me again, but at the same time I knew you wouldn’t. So, see? Stupid.”

  Christian’s heart squeezed for him. “I wish you would’ve told me.”

  “No. ’Cause like I said: stupid.”

  Christian smiled and placed a second kiss on Riley’s palm. “Okay, I get it. You’re stupid.”

  “I’m not stupid,” Riley corrected. “My thoughts are stupid.”

  “Same damn thing.”

  “Is not.”

  “Is too.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Fuck you, too,” Christian said cheerfully, matching Riley’s tone. Behind him, Riley’s chest shook with laughter.

  “Hey, what’s in that box marked ‘crack whore’?” Riley pointed with his foot.

  “My bong.”

  “Your…what?” Riley sounded shocked and insulted and faintly horrified.

  Christian patted his leg. “Don’t worry, I never used it.” He’d played hockey in the same leagues as Riley until university. Even as kids they’d known drugs could seriously fuck them up, and they’d needed to stay in shape, so they’d promised each other early on that they wouldn’t put that shit in their bodies. “I have a friend who does glasswork and she did a show once,” he explained. “I felt bad leaving without buying anything, so I got a little mini bong.”

  “Seriously? There wasn’t, like, a bowl or a trinket dish or something equally mundane you could buy?”

  “Well, I guess I sort of did get a bowl,” he quipped.

  “Har har,” Riley said blandly. “You’re such a weirdo.” His words were gentled by a kiss to Christian’s head.

  “I’m weird?” Christian tickled Riley’s palm. “Says the French Canadian with the first name Riley.”

  “That’s not my fault.” Riley trapped Christian’s hand against his chest. “I didn’t name myself. And I don’t think Christian is French either.”

&nbs
p; “It’s more French than Riley.”

  Riley released a sound of disbelief. “If you say so.” He pointed with his foot again. “Why is there a box with my name on it?”

  Damn. So much for hoping Riley wouldn’t notice.

  “I’ll show you tomorrow,” he hedged, and hid a cringe when he realized his mistake.

  “Oh, you have to tell me now,” Riley said, laughing. He tried to get up but Christian pressed his back against him and trapped his legs on the table. “Ooh, you don’t want me to see! That means it’s gotta be good.”

  They tussled on the couch for a few minutes. By the time Riley had successfully managed to extract himself from Christian’s clutches, Christian was half hard and wishing Riley would forget about the stupid box. Didn’t Riley realize they had a bed to christen? Not that they hadn’t had sex in Riley’s bed before; they totally, definitely, mind-blowingly had. But now that they lived together it was different. More permanent, more solid.

  He stretched himself out on the couch, head pillowed on his bicep, and watched Riley move a couple of boxes out of the way to get to the one with his name on it. Despite obviously wanting to get in there, he looked back at Christian with a raised eyebrow.

  Christian’s sigh was full of resignation, and he waved a hand at Riley. “Go ahead.” Might as well get it over with.

  Grinning, Riley sat on the floor with the box between his legs and peeled off the packing tape. The smile on his face went from gleeful to confused when he saw what was inside. He pulled out a rectangular box wrapped in snowman-covered wrapping paper, another with black and white polka dot wrapping, another with a blue-and-green plaid pattern, and yet another with cartoon reindeer.

  “They’re all wrapped,” Riley said. Brow furrowed, he peered into the box, where Christian knew there were at least ten more wrapped boxes. “Why? Who are they for? Are you donating them to a charity or something?”

  Christian could go with that excuse and save himself the humiliation that was to come, but he’d never lied to Riley and he wasn’t about to start now.

  A great sigh escaped him and he heaved himself off the couch to take a seat next to Riley on the floor in front of the fireplace.

  “Don’t laugh,” he warned Riley. “But I, uh…” He cleared his throat. “Look, I’m sure you already know that I missed the hell out of you over the past few years.” Riley quit playing with a rip in the snowman wrapping paper and looked at him. “I shouldn’t’ve broken up with you, and… This was just my way of feeling close to you.” He realized how pathetic he sounded but Riley already knew what a goner he was over him.

  Riley blinked at him, his mouth forming a little ‘O’ of surprise. “These are…all mine?”

  “Seven years, give or take, of Christmas and birthday presents.”

  Riley looked like he had trouble deciding between crying and ripping into his gifts. He did neither. Instead, he dropped the box he was holding, crawled to Christian, pushed him onto his back, and kissed him.

  Christian made a sound of surprise. Then he got with the program and hugged Riley closer. Their tongues danced, their legs tangled. Riley’s kiss was slow and sweet and filled with longing. Christian’s heart thumped in his chest.

  Riley pulled back and stared at him, his heart in his eyes.

  “What?” Christian rasped.

  But Riley just shook his head. His thumb traced Christian’s wet bottom lip, swept over his stubbled jaw, brushed his cheekbone. The amazed look on Riley’s face, wide eyes, unsteady breathing, mouth opening and closing without a sound… It almost looked like Riley couldn’t believe Christian was actually, finally, here.

  Christian understood how he felt. He’d spent every day of the past few weeks—every day since he’d returned to Vancouver after New Year’s—wondering if Riley had been a dream, if he’d made up their reunion over Christmas. But no. To his astonished wonder, Riley still loved him too.

  “I wanna take you to bed,” Riley whispered, thumb still tracing Christian’s face.

  “I want you to take me to bed,” Christian said, his hand finding its way into the back of Riley’s jeans.

  Riley sat up, and as if Christian was tethered to him, he followed. Yet instead of standing, Riley straddled Christian’s lap and kissed him quietly, lazily, like he had all the time in the world. The only sounds in the room were their labored breathing, the scritch of Riley’s hands on Christian’s shadowed jaw, the whisp of Christian’s hands flitting over Riley’s T-shirt, lifting it up. They broke the kiss only long enough to get the shirt over Riley’s head.

  “T?” Riley said when he pulled back, voice hushed.

  The T necklace around Riley’s neck caught Christian’s attention. His heart melted at the sight of it and he ran his fingers over the worn metal. It didn’t even matter anymore what the T stood for. Besides, he had a feeling knowing would make it lose its mysteriousness.

  Didn’t mean he wouldn’t spend the rest of their lives bugging Riley about it, though.

  “T?”

  Christian placed an open-mouthed kiss on Riley’s shoulder and felt Riley’s full-body shiver against him.

  “Riley, honey?”

  Riley framed his face, bringing his head up so their eyes met. Everything Christian felt was reflected back at him in Riley’s eyes: acceptance, comfort, hope, adoration, love. He squeezed Riley tighter, wanting him even closer.

  Riley’s eyes were glassy and when he spoke next, Christian had to blink the wetness out of his own eyes and swallow past the knot in his throat.

  “Welcome home.”

  * * *

  Curious about Mitch and Alex? Read their story in On the Ice, available wherever books are sold!

  Thank you for coming along on Christian and Riley’s journey.

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  Amy's lived with her head in the clouds since she first picked up a book as a child, and being fluent in two languages means she's read a lot of books! She first picked up a pen on a rainy day in fourth grade when her class had to stay inside for recess. Tales of treasure hunts with her classmates eventually morphed into love stories between men, and she's been writing ever since. She writes evenings and weekends—or whenever she isn't at her full-time day job saving the planet at Canada's largest environmental non-profit.

  An unapologetic introvert, Amy reads too much and socializes too little, with no regrets. She loves connecting with readers. Join her Facebook Group, Amy Aislin’s Readers, to stay up-to-date on upcoming releases and for access to early teasers, find her on Instagram and Twitter, or sign up for her newsletter.

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