See You In Boston (CU Hockey 5.50)

If I only have to wait a few weeks to get as much of him as I want, it’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make.

The car ride home is silent, and I want to tell Tyson it’s okay to be himself—it’s always okay to be himself—but I don’t want to put that kind of pressure on him. Hopefully it won’t take him too long to realize my dad is the last thing from intimidating. Even if his expensive suits and the way he smiles sometimes in a knowing way makes him look like Italian mafia. Dad doesn’t look tough, but he looks like money. I think he plays into that stereotype sometimes for the fun of it.

We arrive at the house, and Tyson takes a deep breath.

The need to reassure him on the way in is strong, but the best I can do is an encouraging touch to the small of his back as I practically shove him toward the front door.

The smell of Mom’s cooking wafts in the air before we’re even inside.

Mom greets us with kisses on our cheeks, even to Tyson, who stands there looking stunned. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Gian lies.” There’s the real Tyson slipping through.

She laughs. “Good to know, but I actually meant from Robert.”

“Oh. Well, he doesn’t lie. I mean, not that I know of. I’m assuming. Because he’s all grown-up and mature, and—” Tyson’s mouth slams shut, and it’s probably mean of me to find his rambling amusing, right?

“Did you almost call me old?” Dad asks.

“Oh, no! Definitely no. No.” Tyson shakes his head. “No, no. No, I …”

Dad puts his hand on Tyson’s shoulder. “I was playing with you. There’s no need to be nervous here, okay? Just be yourself.”

I don’t want to tell Dad that Tyson’s usual self is a flamboyant twink who talks about sex nonstop. Then again, that might be the image he’s used to putting out there. Deep down, I know Tyson is much more than that. He’s smart. He’s levelheaded.

He may act impulsive and blurt random things, but he’s not a himbo.

The thing I think I find most surprising about him is as we sit down to eat, I can see this happening in the future. Tyson next to me, eating with my family. Not as Dad’s employee but as my … boyfriend? Partner? Whatever the label. It doesn’t matter to me.

Mom dishes out osso buco with risotto and puts a plate in front of Tyson. “I hope you’re not a vegetarian.”

“No, I like meat.”

I almost choke on my spit. I pat my chest. “Went down the wrong pipe.”

Shit. Even that sounds sexual. Why does everything Tyson do or say make me think of sex? I bet it has to do with the fact we haven’t been able to get together again.

The thought of sinking inside his tight body has need thrumming through my veins.

“I’ve been enjoying your leftovers at work,” Tyson says. “Gian has been nice enough to share with me.”

“If I didn’t, you might starve.”

“Where are you from?” Mom asks.

“Providence. My family is still there, so I’m renting a small studio until I find permanent work to get myself a proper place.”

“I don’t think you’ll have any trouble finding work,” Dad says. “You’re a solid intern. You don’t slack off like some.” He sends a pointed glare my way. “I’ve said as much to the partners.”

“Thank you, sir,” Tyson says softly.

“Since when am I slacking off?” I ask.

“Oh, you don’t think Mitch chose you so he didn’t have to be professional twenty-four seven?”

Okay, I’ll admit, working with Mitch is fun, but it’s not like he does nothing all day. “We have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Dad laughs.

“Eh, take the light workload when you can. Come fall—”

“I know, I know. Balls to the wall busy with study again.” I’m not looking forward to that part.

“So, were you two friends back in Vermont?” Mom asks.

Tyson and I stare at each other, and I think back to the night we met. The amazing night we met. And there I go, picturing him on his knees.

We need to find time to get off together just so I can focus.

Tyson breaks his gaze first and answers Mom. “We actually only met toward the end of senior year.”

The very last day, to be exact, but saying that would undermine what I told Dad when I found out Tyson was one of the other interns.

“It turns out I inadvertently helped Tyson apply for the internship,” I add. “You know, like one of those chain messages. Tyson asked Seth, who asked Cohen, who asked me type thing.”

I’m grateful I was unaware of it now because had I known Tyson was going to be working for my dad this summer, I know I wouldn’t have hooked up with him that night.

Having the freedom of never seeing him again gave me the courage to try it, and I never expected it would make me want more.