The sight of Etna makes me stop. He’s shirtless, in nothing but shorts. They’re not the super long ones that hang looselyaround his knees. This pair is tighter, emphasizing the shape of his ass. They’re also shorter, falling to about mid-thigh. His skin is bronzed from the sun and glistens in the afternoon rays.
I’ve seen him mostly naked countless times. Seriously, countless. We share a locker room. We sleep in the same bed. We do lake activities that require little clothing and nothing but swim trunks. We live together and have started showering together at home. This isn’t anything new.
But for some reason, my breathing gets shallow as I stare at him. The only words going through my head arehe’s mine.
When did I become so possessive?
Etna looks at me over his shoulder and smiles. “Hey,” he says, turning off the hose. “What’s wrong?”
Who said anything was wrong? I’m staring at the hottest man in existence. I’m quite confident about that. Though I’ve never thought to rate men on their hotness, there’s a first for everything, right?
“Uh…” I answer. “Oh. Is there a way to turn off commenting on ShareIt?”
“I don’t know,” he says. “I never tried. Did you tap the three dots on the post?”
Turning my phone back on, the post is still open. I click the three dots and read my options. Yep, there it is. Turn comments off. I hit that bitch hard, but don’t see any change in the post. When I click the little talking bubble, the line to comment and the option to reply are gone. Okay, at least it worked.
“What happened?” he asks, moving closer to me.
“Nothing. Just some bigots commenting.”
“Ah. I’ll take care of them later. Don’t read them.” He kisses my cheek and pushes me toward the house. “Back inside. We have work to do.”
I grumble, glaring at him over my shoulder. “What work?”
“We need to get back to choosing a venue and a theme. I think we’re at a standstill until we have both.”
“Oh. It can’t be that hard, right?”
Etna shrugs. “I agree, but we’ll see.”
“What do you think about a hockey theme? Is that lame?”
He grins. “I was thinking that too. And had the same question. Is it cliché for the hockey players to have a hockey-themed wedding?”
“I hear that the party and stuff are for the guests,” I point out.
“Fuck that. It’s all for us. So how dowefeel about it?”
I hesitate. “I feel like people are going to think it’s tacky,” I admit. “I know it’s for us, but will we think it’s tacky in fifteen years and cringe as we look back on it?”
Etna tilts his head to the side. “We’ve spent twenty years of our lives breathing hockey. I can’t imagine we’re going to feel any different in fifteen years.”
Chuckling, I shrug. “You’re probably right.”
“Let’s leave it as an option.”
“Divide and conquer?” I suggest, grinning widely. It’s kind of become a running joke, but also something that’s working out for us. “I’ll take venue hunting, and you take theme research.”
“Done.” Etna takes his usual place on the couch while I curl up on my favorite chair and grab my tablet. I type in ‘wedding venue Arizona’ and see what pops up.
Oh… thousands of search results. Awesome. That was sarcastic, mind you.
Immediately, I find an issue. There are indoors and outdoors, warehouses and churches, country clubs and mansions, mountains with cactuses and on the shores of the river, hotel resorts and spas, wineries, art galleries, groves, sanctuaries, gardens…
“Okay, I’m going to need some guidance,” I say.
Etna chuckles. “Yeah?”
