Page 18 of Snowed In

“I have water and wine. The champagne is for New Year’s Eve.There’s juice and milk, though I mostly got that for breakfast and cooking.”

“Water, please,” Edries says.

I grab two glasses and use the nozzle inside the door for cold water. Then I return to the table, setting them down. He’s standing behind his chair, hands behind his back as he waits for me. It feels weirdly formal, and Edries doesn’t make a move to sit until I do.

As I pick up my fork, I watch as he drapes his paper napkin in his lap.Veryformal. Though I try not to watch him while we eat in somewhat awkward silence, we steal glances at each other. I’m not sure what it is about the way he takes a bite of his broccoli when I finally recognize him.

“Edries Franklin!” I say, as if I just won a prize for identifying him.

He gives me an amused half smile. “Yes.”

“Honestly, your first name alone should have triggered that memory. It’s not a common name,” I say, still slightly proud of myself for finally figuring it out.

“Indeed,” he muses.

We eat quietly before he asks, “Are you going to tell me your name?”

“Oh, right. Sorry. Gabe Zanderman.”

He nods. When he finishes chewing, he says, “Soccer player, or is that a coincidence?”

I grin. “Yes, soccer. I’m surprised you didn’t say ‘gay soccer player.’ It’s like an official job title.” I roll my eyes. It used to bother me, but now I just smile proudly. Yes, I’m gay. And yes, I’m a pro soccer player. Eat me, asshole haters.

Edries’s eyebrows knit together. “That’s… kind of inappropriate, no?”

I snort. “Yes. Very. Still, no one seems to care.”

“I suppose it’s the same as people referring to me as ‘Edries Franklin, eccentric billionaire,’” he muses.

“I was pretty sure you had that trademarked by this point,” I say.

He grins and… I don’t hate it.

“I decided something a long time ago. I’m going to be remembered and while the first thing that people might think about when they hear my name is that I wore a flamingo print suit as a teenager—once—and they’ve never let me live that down, there’s also going to be a legacy left behind. Organizations, franchises, investments. I’ll have done good. And all these people who scoff and snicker because I’m ‘eccentric’ will anonymously disappear into history as if they didn’t exist.”

My fork paused on its way to my mouth about halfway through his explanation. I’m left staring at him, reconsidering this man entirely. A smile forms on my mouth as I finally bring my bite home. I like this guy. That’s kind of a fuck you to the world without actually saying it out loud.

“I get that. I’ve thought something like that too, but maybe not consciously,” I say and take a sip of my water. “All the haters out there bitching because I’m gay and playing soccer are usually washed up or wannabes. Those who couldn’t cut it in the league or weren’t good enough to make it pro. But here I am, living their dream and my sexuality just gives them something to hate.”

Edries smiles. “Exactly! The loudest haters are only shouting their jealousy. You’re leaving a legacy behind, but one that’s even bigger than just your game.”

“Yeah? If you say I’m hot, I’m going to forgive that you barged into my cabin.”

He laughs. “No, I was going to say that you’re helping to pave the way for younger gay kids who want to play but don’t think they’re allowed to. I might have enormous bank accounts and my name plastered all over different organizations, but you’re going to be remembered and revered for ages as a proud gay man who didn’t hide his sexuality just so he could live his dream. Your place in history is going to shine much brighter than mine, as it should.”

Okay, if he keeps complimenting me, I’m going to have a hard time resenting the fact that he’s here.

“Also,Ipaid for this room. You just got to it first,” he says casually, bringing a bite to his mouth. The playful smile on his lips makes something inside me flutter.

“I think my credit card says otherwise,” I retort.

“We can compare transactions when we’re back in reception. I’ve been told that the Wi-Fi isn’t going to work during the storm. For now, you’re just going to have to accept that you’re the interloper.”

“Ha! Not to sound like a six-year-old, but I was here first.”

Now Edries is smiling. And hell, so am I.

We finish eating in a much less awkward silence, and he tells me that since I cooked, he’ll clean up. I don’t hate this idea, so I leave him in the kitchen and head for the living room, where I pop in a movie and make myself comfortable in the oversized chair.

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