“So, you and Clark aren’t even remotely together …” Even if it’s a statement, it’s posed as a question.
“Uh …”
“Use your words, Oliver. Keeping your mouth shut is what made you resent me for so long.”
I blow out a loud breath. “I don’t resent you. I never have. And I shouldn’t complain, because any gay kid would be lucky to have this family. But faaaark, I need space sometimes.”
She seems to understand even if hurt shines in her eyes. “Guess New York was a good thing after all.”
I’m beginning to see it really was. “I hated it at first, and I’m pissed Boston’s still in the running for the Cup while I’m sitting on my ass, but being away from everyone for the first time in my life, I think I’ve grown up a bit.”
“Says the boy who just got high with his sex toy in a treehouse,” she says.
I screw up my face. “First, eww, please don’t ever say sex toy ever again, and second, Lennon—”
“Nuh-uh. You started with the lie, so he is forever Clark in this house.”
“You guys have seriously weird punishments, but fine. Clark and I haven’t even had sex, so you’re wrong. We’re friends.” Despite the epic blowjobs.
Ma sighs. “Promise me something.”
I tense and automatically assume she’s going to start talking about putting Lennon’s feelings and needs before my career like she would’ve said to me any other time, but what she does say surprises me.
“When I’m being overbearing, just tell me.”
“We try to,” I argue.
“Try harder. Come up with a code word, so I know when I’m pissing you off, because as your mother, I still have the right to butt into your life. That will never change. But I don’t want to upset you. Any of you boys. You’ve been my whole life.”
“What about Dad?”
She waves me off. “Eh. He’s all right. Like, if there was a zombie apocalypse or something, I wouldn’t shoot him in the leg, but you boys would be my first priority.”
My mother, the badass zombie hunter … apparently.
“I think we just found our code word. Zombies.”
“Deal. Now, seeing as we’re on this talking and opening-up business, you need to tell me what happened between you and Ash, because I get the feeling you didn’t tell me that whole story either.”
“Zombies! Zombies!”
“Nice try, but you’re only allowed to use it if it’s dire, and I think it’s about time you told the truth about you and Ash.”
With a grunt, I tell Ma about all the other issues we had—the imbalance of give and take in our relationship and the way I sacrificed a lot of little things because Ash had to sacrifice one big thing.
We keep talking even when my brothers come outside and join in. When I ask where Lennon is, they tell me they carried Clark upstairs to bed after he fell asleep on the couch.
I laugh, because Lennon probably loved that.
Dad eventually comes home from dropping Grandma off, and even though it’s been an eventful and drama-filled day, it’s the first time in years we’ve felt like the family I grew up with.
There’s still the ribbing and the teasing, but there’s also an underlying awareness that wasn’t there before, and I can’t say that it’s a bad thing.
And I owe it all to Clark. Err … Lennon.
So, when Lennon passed out, he passed the fuck out. Which is probably why I’m woken up in the middle of the night by a very handsy, wide-awake, and horny reporter. Because he’s been asleep for twelve hours, and now he’s experiencing some sort of marijuana-induced jet lag.
His fingers trail down my back. When I came to bed, his shirt was on, but now I feel his skin against my chest.
“That’s one way to wake me up,” I mumble, my mind half-asleep but my dick fully awake.
My hand finds his face in the dark and cups his cheek.
He turns his head and kisses my palm and then my wrist. “I contemplated letting you sleep, but then I thought where’s the fun in that? I should make the most of this.”
I hear the unspoken words. This: our little window of time where the rest of the world doesn’t exist.
Our something real is something temporary, and I think we both know that. As much as I’d jump at the chance to try more with Lennon, it’ll always come down to asking him to step back into the closet for me, and I won’t do that to another person, no matter how good his lips on my neck feel.
Or the way his hand slips into the waistband of my boxers and massages my ass cheek.
All thought is lost when he grinds against me, our hard cocks meeting through the fabric of our boxers.
“You didn’t get all the way naked before you pounced on me?” My voice is breathless already. That doesn’t bode well for how long I’m gonna last.