Page 27 of The Shots You Take

Beneath the water, a hand clasped his ankle. Adam yelped and yanked his leg away. Riley popped up beside him, splashing water everywhere. Adam shoved him as best he could, but he was treading water and Riley was basically a cement wall.

He was also breathtakingly beautiful in that moment, all smiles with the sun glinting on his wet hair. Was that a normal thought to have about your best friend? Even one you’ve been recreationally fucking for a couple of years?

“See? It’s nice.”

“Yeah,” Adam said distantly. “Nice.”

Hours later, sunburned and thirsty, they entered the Dropped Anchor together. Harv had told them the owner had some jerseys for them to sign.

The kindest way to describe the Dropped Anchor was to call it a dive bar. A more honest description was a total dump. Just asad, dark rectangular room full of white men of various ages. An older model television in one corner showed sports—baseball at the moment—and was the only source of entertainment.

“Benny,” Riley said as he approached the bar. “What’s happening, man?”

“Not a damn thing,” the man, Benny, said. “The Jays are losing.”

“Fine with me. I’m a Red Sox fan.”

Adam gasped. “I didn’t know that. Why are we friends?”

Riley looped an arm around his neck. “Because you need someone to fight sharks.”

By then, Adam had started to hear his own name being murmured throughout the tavern. It was something he’d gotten used to, as much as anyone could get used to it. Over the past season he’d evolved from an exciting young prospect to a full-blown hockey star, complete with an invitation to the All-Star game, and being named Toronto’s new captain only a couple of weeks ago. He was getting recognized a lot these days.

And, of course, everyone in town knew he was here, visiting Riley.

“Dad said you have some jerseys you want us to sign?” Riley said.

“Is that why those are here? No one tells me anything,” Benny grumbled as he ducked down behind the bar. He resurfaced with an overstuffed plastic bag. He thrust it at Riley. “Here you go.”

“You got a Sharpie or something?” Riley asked.

Benny patted his chest. “No.”

Riley shot Adam an exhausted glance, and Adam had to press his lips together to keep from laughing.

“I got one,” someone called from the end of the bar, a white man wearing worn and stained work clothes. He nearly fell offhis barstool as he held the pen out. “I always have one on me for work. You can borrow it. You can keep it, um, Mr. Sheppard.”

Adam smiled and took the pen. “I don’t need to keep it. And you can call me Adam. Or Shep.”

“Yes sir, Shep,” said the man, who was at least ten years older than Adam. “And if it’s not too much trouble, would you sign something for me?”

“Of course. My pleasure.”

They laid the jerseys out on the bar and took turns signing. Riley was wearing a tank top that had really huge arm holes, exposing skin from his armpits to nearly his waist. When he leaned over the bar, Adam could see his nipple. He forced himself to look away.

By the time Riley and Adam were finally alone at a table with pints of beer, they’d signed the jerseys, a couple of ball caps, several five-dollar bills, and a bunch of scraps of paper torn from a notebook someone had.

“It’s fucking wild, right?” Adam said as he leaned back in his chair, sun drunk and happy. He tapped the toe of his sneaker against Riley’s ankle. “We can make someone’s whole fucking day just by writing our names on a piece of paper for them.”

Riley tapped Adam back, the side of his ankle brushing against Adam’s calf. “You can, maybe,Captain.”

“Oh fuck off. Like you’re not a star.”

Riley grinned and wrapped his right arm over his head, grabbing the elbow with his left hand to get a good stretch. It made his biceps look huge, and also exposed his hairy armpits, which Adam found fascinating for some reason. Most dudes had hairy armpits.Adamhad hairy armpits. And huge biceps. And eyes and lips and strong hands. Riley wasn’t special.

They finished their pints, and then another round, talking and laughing as if they were old friends catching up, insteadof two guys who should, by all rights, have nothing left to say to each other.

Adam was just tipsy enough from the weak beer to be wondering if there was somewhere private he could go with Riley. It would go against their unspoken rule of never fooling around in the summer, but he’d been pretty hot for Riley all day. The tank top wasn’t helping.

---