“No. I, ah.” Ryan’s face heated. “I’m a little turned on. Seeing you in those clothes. I know that’s awful.”
Fabian smiled and sauntered over to him, then wrapped his arms around his waist. “Well, in that case, go team go.”
Ryan laughed. “Have a seat.” He gestured with the spatula to the high stools that lined the breakfast counter. “You want toast with your eggs?”
Fabian hoisted himself onto one of the stools. “That would be wonderful.”
“Coffee? Tea? I’m mostly a tea drinker, but I like coffee in the morning.”
“I love tea, but yes. Coffee, please. Would you like me to make it?”
“Nope. You just sit.” And before he could stop himself, he added, “If you stand any closer I’ll get distracted and burn the eggs.”
Fabian laughed at that. Ryan loved the sound of Fabian’s musical laughter. He really couldn’t believe that Fabian was actually here, in his kitchen, after an incredible night and morning of exploring each other’s bodies. It didn’t matter that they’d only fooled around a little, or that Ryan hadn’t gotten off—it had absolutely been the best thing that had ever happened to him. And he was a Stanley Cup champion.
When the eggs were done and the toast had popped, Ryan split everything between two plates and set them on the counter. He poured them each a coffee, and hoped Fabian didn’t take cream in his because Ryan still hadn’t bought any. But if Fabian liked cream, Ryan would fill his fridge with it.
“Do you take anything in your coffee?”
“Nope. Black is perfect,” Fabian said cheerfully. He waved his nose over the steaming mug. “This smells divine.”
Ryan laughed. “It’s just Folgers.”
“Actual brand-name Folgers? Not the knockoff generic stuff? Okay, moneybags.”
Ryan stood at the counter directly opposite Fabian. “Wait’ll you see the brand-name dish soap I use to clean up with later.”
“Stop. You’ll spoil me.”
Ryan beamed, then leaned across the counter and kissed him. “You’re a better kissing height now.”
Fabian smiled back at him, then pushed his plate away. “I’m suddenly full.”
“You haven’t touched your food. Eat.”
Fabian rolled his eyes dramatically as he retrieved his plate. “Fine.”
As they ate, Ryan marveled at how comfortable he was in Fabian’s company. Even when they’d been teenagers, and even with the terrifying attraction he’d always had for him, Ryan had often felt at ease with him. He knew it hadn’t been easy for Fabian to see past his prejudice toward hockey players—a prejudice that Ryan could completely understand because he’d heard countless homophobic slurs during his hockey career. He’d seen the way high school hockey players treated boys who were like Fabian. But Fabianhadseen Ryan, even back then. Not just another jock, not a threat, but a person worth sharing small parts of himself with.
“What’s on your mind?” Fabian asked, because Ryan was probably staring at him with a dreamy expression on his face.
“Nothing.” Ryan shoveled the last of his eggs into his mouth.
“I don’t believe that for a second.”
“I was just thinking about before. Back when we were young.”
“I’mstillyoung. But if you mean when we were teenagers, I’ve been thinking a lot about that lately myself.”
“I guess our cards are on the table now, so I’ll just tell you: I was obsessed with you back then.”
Fabian rested his chin in his palm and smiled. “Obsessed?”
“Pretty much. I just thought you were so...beautiful.”
Fabian waved a hand. “I was a skinny, awkward teenager who was trying way too hard to be edgy.”
“No. You were amazing. You’restillamazing.”
