Page 3 of Cross Ice

To talk to a guy I was attracted to.

He watched me approach, expression unreadable but not unwelcoming. Up close, he was even more attractive—light scruff, blue eyes that looked almost gray under the colored lights, an inch or two shorter than me, leaner build. He looked out of place, like someone who didn’t come to gay clubs often.

“Hey,” I said, pitching my voice loud enough to be heard over the music. “I’m Nico.”

He looked at me for a moment, assessing. Weighing something. Probably the same thing I’d weighed when I’d decided to walk over here. Risk versus reward. Safety versus possibility.

“Evan,” he said finally. His mouth formed the word carefully, and he held eye contact when he said it.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

“I have one.” He lifted his glass—something clear with lime.

“Then can I keep you company while you drink it?”

The corner of his mouth twitched. Almost a smile. “Sure.”

We moved away from the crush at the bar to a spot where we could hear each other better. The music was still loud, the lights still pulsing, but we’d created a small pocket of space just for us.

“First time here?” Evan asked, eyes sharp, like he could see right through me.

Aiming for charming, I hoped I landed somewhere close. “Is it that obvious?”

“Little bit.” His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You have that ‘I’m not sure what I’m doing here, but I’m going to pretend I know’ look.”

Despite myself, I laughed. “That accurate, huh?”

“Pretty accurate.”

“What about you? You come here a lot?”

A shrug. “Occasionally. I’m more of a quiet-coffee-shop-with-a-book kind of guy. My friend dragged me out tonight and then abandoned me.”

“Terrible friend.”

“The worst,” he agreed, but that careful smile appeared again.

We leaned closer to hear each other over the pulsing music.

“So, what do you do?” I asked.

“Consultant.” A sip of his drink.

Waiting for him to elaborate seemed futile when he clearly wasn’t going to.

“That’s… vague,” I said, grinning.

“Very.” He gave me a small smile that suggested he knew exactly how vague it was. “Marketing strategy, brand development, that kind of thing. Most people’s eyes glaze over when I start talking about it.”

“Doesn’t sound boring.”

“You say that now, but wait until I lecture about it,” he said. “What about you?”

“I’m… in sports.”

An eyebrow raised. “Now who’s being vague?”

“Good point.” Laughter escaped me. “I work for a team.”