Page 50 of Survival Game

For the rest of the evening, Kyle put on a great show of his card skills, amazing everyone with his dexterity. He chatted civilly to Eric, as if nothing had changed, and was gratified to see the confusion in his face that Kyle seemed unaffected by their parting.

Secretive bastard, Kyle thought savagely. See me not give a fuck. See me getting over you. And yet the whole time he was performing his famous croupier shuffling skills and showing his friends the magic tricks he’d learnt in Vegas at the side of the Great Hazzy Houzzini, Kyle was dying a little bit inside.

The 606 Club in Soho was one of Kyle’s favourite jazz places. Intimate and bohemian, it was one of his go-to places when he needed cheering up. And cheering up was just what he needed.

It had been two days since he’d seen Eric at Club Delish, and since then he’d received one short message saying that it had been good to see him and Eric would be in touch soon. Kyle had responded back with a thumbs-up icon, and that had been as much as he could manage. So, when he sat in his favourite booth with a whisky sour—a drink of sheer perfection created by the legendary bartender Sergio—tapping his fingers to the strains of jazz floating across the room, the last thing he expected to see when he opened his eyes was Eric.

He looked tired; his eyes were shadowed, and he seemed thinner. He still looked good though, in ripped jeans and a white long-sleeved tee-shirt.

“Hey.” Eric said, slipping his thumbs into his belt loops and leaning forward slightly.

“Hey, back.” Kyle stared for a moment, and then realising it was getting them nowhere, he motioned to the seat beside him. “Want to sit down?”

Eric slid into the booth, the heat and touch of his body in the closed space instantly causing Kyle’s groin to react.

“How did you know I was here?” Kyle asked then chuckled. “Don’t tell me. Ryan.”

Eric nodded. “He said you were coming down here tonight. That he’d given you the night off while he sees how Kellie does managing the club on her own.” He frowned slightly. “She seems to be settling in well. Is everything okay there? Ryan’s not thinking of replacing you or anything is he? Because you’re one of the best things to happen to that club—”

Kyle reached over and pressed a firm finger over Eric’s lips. “Don’t be daft. I’m quite happy with having a bit more time off, to be honest. You know what my days off are usually like—popping down to check on things, catch up on paperwork I can’t do when I’m there at night and do stock takes and shit. It’s nice to not be the only one anymore. And Ryan would never do me wrong.”

Eric didn’t look convinced and Kyle’s chest filled with warmth. He’s worried about my job. That’s too sweet.

“Well, okay. As long as you’re happy.”

Kyle decided the time had come to let Eric know exactly how he felt. It couldn’t do any harm. After all, Eric had taken the time to seek him out, hadn’t he? That must mean something.

“I haven’t been happy for a while,” he admitted, raising his glass and taking a sip while Eric beckoned a waitress over. “I missed you.” There, I said it. Deal with it.

Instead of backing off as he half expected, Eric leaned over and fixed his eyes on Kyle’s. They really are like peridot, he thought dreamily. So damn beautiful.

“I missed you too.” Eric reached up and traced a warm finger along Kyle’s cheekbone. “Like crazy. That’s why I swung around tonight. To apologise and tell you I care about you and I’m not going to let you go over a stupid spat.” He shrugged. “I had plenty of time to think about things and I think I’m in a better place to talk to you about it.”

Kyle struggled to draw a breath after that admission. His insides were all tingly, and something else was getting happy too. Finally, he managed to respond.

“Glad to hear it,” he murmured. “Maybe I should finish up my drink and we can go back to my place, finish what we started the other night?”

He gasped as Eric’s hand reached under the table and squeezed his thigh. “ Let me finish the drink I just ordered, watch this next set and then we can go. Deal?”

“Deal,” Kyle agreed.

They sat in contemplative silence as the next band came on. Kyle’s body swayed to the saxophone and drum work, and for a while, he lost himself in the rhythm.

Jazz, whisky and a sexy—and hopefully repentant—man beside him, willing to take whatever punishment Kyle offered.

Things were looking up.

They reached Kyle’s house around eleven o’clock and he mixed them a drink. Eric looked around the flat with surprise.

“Your place is looking really tidy,” he muttered as he took in the obsessively re-organised in alphabetical order DVD collection. His eyes drifted to Kyle’s dice collection. “And you’ve added a few more of those.”

Kyle looked over at his pride and joy fondly. He’d been acquiring dice for years and had quite the collection. “I had some time to hunt them out and buy a few more. Pretty cool, huh?”

“A few more?” Eric snorted in amusement. “You’ve bought a lot more than a few.”

“Did you come here to talk about my dices—dice? Dicii? I never remember the plural for the damn things—or do you want to tell me what happened the other day that put you in such a bad mood?” Kyle plonked down beside Eric, making sure their legs touched.

The sigh Eric heaved seemed to have been dragged from deep inside. “I guess.” He took a deep gulp of his drink and Kyle could see he was garnering courage for whatever he was about to tell him.