“Hey,” Laiken says, and I watch as they hug. Then Laiken’s hand is on my lower back, and he moves me forward a step. “This is Deryke. My boyfriend, Elijah.”
Oh my god, he called me his boyfriend in front of someone! I’m caught between looking at Laiken with wide eyes and trying to be polite to Deryke.
Deryke chuckles. “Does he know he’s your boyfriend?” Deryke asks, amused. I wasn’t expecting the accent. It’s really sexy. I’m such a sucker for accents.
Laiken grins, his arm wrapping around my waist. “He does. He just doesn’t hear me proclaim it often.”
“Or ever,” I say, and finally get myself together enough to offer Deryke my hand. “Hi. Nice to meet you. I thought he was making you up.”
Both men laugh, Laiken rolling his eyes.
Deryke takes a step back, letting us in. “I’m real.”
“You come to a gay island, but Laiken says you’re not into men. I’m trying to puzzle this out,” I say, eyes narrowed.
Laiken shakes his head, bringing me onto the couch.
“I play professional hockey,” Deryke says. “So everything I do is plastered all over the internet, no matter what it is. There’s nostraightplace quite like Kala, where everyone signs an NDA and is not allowed personal electronic devices, which means, for just these weeks in the summer, I’m anonymous. I’m just a person. Allowed to live my life without a camera in my face.”
“You can have gay affairs!” I say, grinning.
“Or,” Deryke says, “I can be like you and everyone else here and simply exist.”
I study him for a minute. “That sounds like an exhausting life.”
“It is,” Deryke agrees. “That’s the price I pay for having the job I do.”
“Hockey.”
He chuckles. “I can tell by the look on your face that you aren’t a hockey fan.”
I think to argue, but instead, I just shake my head. “I’m not sure I’ve seen a game. I’m familiar enough to know you play it on ice with sticks and nets. That’s it.”
“Blasphemy,” Deryke mutters.
I grin, looking at Laiken. “You’re not a hockey fan, either. Does he curse you in a sexy accent, too?”
“Constantly. Also, I’ve made it a point to watch a couple of Deryke’s games when I can. For the most part, it’s about access to the networks that broadcast them. We get some West Coast U.S. channels, but Deryke isn’t on the west coast.”
“Where are you?” I ask Deryke.
“St. Louis.” When I look at him absently, he smirks. “Missouri.”
That’s only barely better. I gather from context that it’s not the West Coast at any rate.
“What do you do, Elijah?” Deryke asks.
“I work at the bar with Laiken right now. It’s not a forever job, but after my disastrous experience in college, and until I find what I’m passionate about, it occupies my time in a productive way.”
“If you don’t mind me asking, what happened in college?”
“I failed?—”
“No, you didn’t. He was bullied for his sexuality, and when it crossed a line to a point where he no longer felt safe and the school was failing to protect him, he came home. As he should have. No education is worth risking your safety,” Laken says.
I shrug.
Deryke frowns. “What college?”
