Chapter 3
Eric lay in the bed for quite some time after Sam left, trying to relive the one shining moment of pleasure he’d had since the day he’d been carried off the ice in a stretcher, already knowing in his heart that his pro career was over. In that single moment his whole life had been taken away from him; everything he’d worked for and everything he’d loved. Hockey had, in fact, been everything. He had few friends and even less family; his parents had both passed away and his only sister Joan lived a good two hours out where she was busy with a failing marriage and a kid. And while being known as a jerk might have helped him stave off the rumors of his sexuality, or stave off human attention in general, the unfortunate byproduct was that now he was completely alone, without a clue as to how to reinvent himself. But for the first time since losing everything, he’d found something-or someone-that had made him smile.
So Sam Miller likes to kiss, Eric marveled, recalling the memory of his lips. In most of Eric’s often brief sexual encounters, mainly with other closeted players he’d met along the way, there hadn’t been a lot of kissing. Perhaps because there hadn’t been time to waste on such luxuries. With grueling training schedules and the necessity to remain incognito there was little opportunity for much more than quick fucks. And certainly no time for relationships-- not that Eric had ever wanted one.
Sam was probably the relationship kind of guy, Eric reasoned. And maybe there was something to be said about working on the same man day after day; maybe you could perfect a skill better with the same set of conditions for a while. Because whatever experiences had lead Sam to this point, the encounter Eric had just had definitely ranked among his top.
So ‘the lawyer’ had become Sam. Sam with the nice eyes and the incredible mouth. Maybe life had thrown him a bone with Sam.
Or maybe not. Eric was out of his element and out of his safety zone. He didn’t know anything about Sam, other than that he dressed well and apparently liked to fold his clothes. Sam could talk and spill his most carefully guarded secret-not that Eric had a reputation to protect anymore-but he still wasn’t ready for talking, or relationships, or for being himself. He didn’t even know who he was without hockey.
The dull throbbing in his shoulder started again as the endorphins from the sexual experience wore off, so he opened the pill bottle and swallowed a few down dry.
*
Sam didn’t call for several days, even though the retainer agreement had yet to be signed. So technically, the firm wasn’t getting any money from him just yet, Eric thought with some pleasure. Though he was by no means in the poorhouse, he wondered how long he could last on disability and the money he had saved before he’d be forced to rejoin the workforce as a nameless nobody instead of an up-and-coming national star.
But mostly he wondered about Sam. He wondered what Sam thought of him, as after the fact he realized he’d done nothing for the man, other than appear naked and give him a few kisses. And he didn’t hold himself in high enough regard to consider that enough to keep a man’s interest. Not that he was sure he wanted to keep Sam’s interest.
He could try to lie to himself all he wanted, but even the vicodin and the beer couldn’t take the edge off the loneliness as days turned into a week. Somehow having that brief fiery connection had undone some of the numbness he’d built around himself since the accident, making him all the more vulnerable to the human needs of socialization and companionship. So when Sam called on the tenth day out, he had to struggle to keep his tone reasonable and the conversation short. He’d adopted the curt, abrupt persona as a means to hide his insecurities, but when he was especially nervous there were still times where he couldn’t stop strange streams of words from coming out of his mouth.
And now that he’d started to care, his usual apathetic approach to grooming didn’t seem like it would be sufficient. So he cleansed thoroughly and decided to dress himself like an adult, with a real button-up shirt and a clean pair of jeans. He even decided to shave. Afterwards, however, he stared at his reflection in the mirror and wondered if he’d gone too far. After all, he didn’t want to look desperate.
Eric’s self-appraisal was cut off by the knock, and he had to count to ten to make sure he didn’t open the door in a mad rush. So it was after a slow, even swing that he found Sam waiting for him that afternoon, dressed in a suit as usual, and wearing a very shy grin.
“Hi,” Sam said awkwardly.
“Hi,” Eric replied.
Before he even stepped through the door Sam thrust forward a paper and produced a pen from his shirt pocket. “Uh, here’s the retainer for you to sign. I forgot to get it last time and Lexy-she’s my paralegal-she’s been bugging me . . . she likes to keep the files up to date.”
“Right, right.” Eric nodded, taking the paper and signing his name sloppily. “Wouldn’t want you to get in trouble.”
Sam blushed and looked down.
“Uh, come in,” Eric backed up, suddenly realizing he’d been blocking the doorway again.
Sam stepped forward. “Do you want to talk about business?” he asked.
Eric bit his cheek and tried to keep himself from smiling like an overeager child. “No. Not really.”
Sam nodded but looked a little distraught, his eyes dancing from tile to tile on the floor. “So, about last time . . .”
Eric blinked rapidly. He knew what Sam was going to say-- it was a mistake, an error in judgment. The words weren’t even out of Sam’s mouth yet and he already felt like he’d been run over by a steamroller. Eric’s expression grew pained, but for once it wasn’t the physical pain that was overwhelming him. For whatever reason, Sam seemed infinitely more attractive to him this afternoon, and the thought of being rejected was leaving him with a hollowed out sense of worthlessness.
But Sam leaned forward awkwardly, pulling back for a moment and then inching in again, like he was testing the waters. Then he finally pressed in close enough to make his message clear and their lips connected.
*************
Sam had put off calling Eric for as long as he could, but the pestering paralegal had finally forced him to confront his fears. And he’d been pleasantly surprised to hear Eric stutter on the phone like maybe he was actually waiting for the call-like maybe he really wanted to see him again.
It was a strange feeling to think he had that kind of power over a man, especially as he’d been filled with self-doubt since the end of his last relationship. And it was even stranger still for it to be over someone as gruff and masculine as Eric. He wondered if all that masculinity came from playing hockey for so long, or from playing straight, since it seemed quite clear that playing straight was very important to Eric.
All the same, Sam had tried his best not to expect anything. He’d told himself he had no intention of engaging in a repeat of the previous experience, because then it would go from a one-afternoon-stand to a two-afternoon-stand, and that would make things much more complicated. But his careful preparation flew out the window the moment Eric opened the door and smiled at him with those defined dimples and bright blue eyes.
Eric seemed nervous as well, and apparently too sober this afternoon to try the same move he had pulled last time. But there was also a neediness in his eyes, and Sam couldn’t help but take it as an invitation. Even though he thought he’d pieced together a generally accurate impression of Eric as a closeted, emotionally disconnected man, he decided that it wouldn’t be fair to judge him without further investigation. So he surprised himself with his boldness, moving in as close as he dared to make it clear that if Eric wanted, well then he might just be able to give.
And Eric apparently did want.
After their first hesitant kiss, Eric wrapped his hand around in Sam’s apricot tie several times and pulled him into a deeper more passionate one. Sam had figured Eric wasn’t a fan of kissing, but evidently he’d found something he liked about it now because they wound up kissing all the way to the bedroom. This time Eric started on him first, and then Sam returned the favor. When they were done they both lay in silence for a good ten minutes, closer than they had during their first encounter, but still not quite touching.
“So,” Sam said after a while. He’d always felt a need to fill awkward silences.
Eric rolled his head slightly towards him with a hint of exasperation in his eyes, as if he would have preferred for them to keep their verbal distance. But eventually the look of objection dissipated. “So . . . you’re the best lawyer I’ve ever had,” he said wryly.
“Oh?” Sam grinned back at him playfully. “Had a lot of lawyers?”
Eric blushed. “Well, not like this,” he said. “But seriously, you’re, uh, really good. Have you . . . had a lot of practice?"
Sam pondered his response for a moment. He’d had practice, yes, but he didn’t know if it qualified as ‘a lot.’ He’d had a series of serious of relationships in his adult life and was known to his friends as a sort of a “serial relationship-ist.” He didn’t feel free-spirited enough for the casual sex thing, so instead he’d tried to make relationships work that probably shouldn’t have been started in the first place. In the end they’d all collapsed one way or another-some more painfully than others-either because the other party was pushing for more or because he was. He just never seemed to find anyone on the right page at the right time.
“Uh, some,” he responded shyly. “You’re . . . not so bad yourself.”
Eric grinned.
“You know, you look really nice when you smile,” Sam found himself saying. “You should do it more often.”
Eric shifted his weight, grimacing a bit as it jostled his shoulder. “I haven’t had much to smile about lately,” he muttered.
Sam rolled over and rested his arm against Eric’s bare chest, then stretched to brush his fingers lightly against the cast. “Are you okay?” he asked.
“It’s fine,” Eric said quickly. “Just a dull throb.”
“No.” Sam shook is head and gently touched Eric’s cast again, fully aware he was breaking boundaries that would be best left unbroken, but unable to stop now that he had started. “I mean with everything . . . the injury . . . not being able to play hockey . . . losing your career . . . being here alone . . .”
Eric retracted from Sam’s touch and stared up at the ceiling. His smile was definitely gone now. “You should probably get going,” he said.
Sam sighed. Without a word he made his way out of bed and started dressing while Eric got up and went to the bathroom.
He was just about to head out when Eric reemerged, leaning against the doorframe. “Hey,” Eric called out. “Maybe if you’re not busy . . . I mean if you have some time . . . I thought maybe,” he stopped talking, grinning at the difficulty he was having with forming a coherent sentence. “Could I see you tomorrow?”
Sam smiled. It was very, very nice to be wanted, and he hadn’t felt wanted in quite some time. Despite his mind’s misgivings, he found his heart-or some other part of his anatomy-had other intentions. “Yeah,” he said.
*************
Next: Chapter 4