” As he pulled on his pants, Jack asked, “How much time is left?” “Just over seven minutes.” I answered. He quickly buttoned his shirt and sat down on the couch. I asked, “Can I get you anything?” “I'd love a beer.” “I'd like one too.” Jack and I turned. Still naked, Jeanne was standing in the doorway to the living room. She quickly walked over to the couch, picked up the hockey jersey, slipped it over her head, pulled it into place and sat down next to her boyfriend. As I hurried out to the kitchen to get three bottles of Heineken I smiled. This was our agreement. Jack was Jeanne's boyfriend. She was with him until the evening ended. When I returned to the living room Jeanne was snuggled up to Jack. I handed them each a Heineken, sat down in my easy chair and took a swallow of my own beer. The remainder of the game was exciting. The two teams played with ferocious intensity. Both of them had several shots on the net, but the two goalies were impenetrable. With a minute left St. Louis. “You know I have been in this town for almost a year and haven’t met anybody. Did you have that problem when you moved here?”“Not really,” I began. I had to speak carefully. Even if the signs were there—the touching, the glances, and the keywords—I could have the guy all wrong. “I was in a relationship that moved us here, but it ended.” Again, I patted his leg and asked, “What about you?”“I just wanted to get away from the winter,” he said.Safe answer, I thought. “So, why are you having a problem meeting people?” I asked.“I don’t know,” he said looking into my eyes again. What he didn’t say with his words, he said with his eyes. The look was one of longing, a weariness that guys like us recognized immediately. I saw struggle, sadness, and I saw a need. I saw these things because, now, they resided in me.I didn’t know what to say to that but I did know I wanted to kiss his full lips. I wanted to run my hands along his face and cup his furry chin. At that moment, his dark-pink lips had.
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