A mistake. Obviously. A little voice in the back of my head told me this was a strong wine and I hadn’t eaten all day because of my nerves, but did I listen to said voice? Nope.
“So, Ali and Kira?”
“I’ve, um…known Kira all my life. Our parents are best friends. I’m pretty sure they were hoping we’d grow up and get married, but it was very clear from a young age that we both like boys.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, I hear ya. I think I knew pretty early that I was bisexual, though I didn’t yet have a word for it. It took me a long time to be okay with it and come out. My dad was…the macho sort, ya know? We were your typical blue-collar, lower-middle-class family. My parents didn’t know or weren’t friends with anyone who was queer. I already felt like an outsider with my brothers—I have three of them. They’re all a year apart from each other, but I’m five years younger than Nolan, the baby outside of me. So they were all closer to each other than they were to me, and I just…didn’t like the things they did. Not in the same way.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, just as the waiter returned. He asked if I wanted another glass, and yes, yes I did.
I took a sip right away.
“It’s hard to explain. We played sports. We all played sports, and I liked them, was good at them, but I wasn’t obsessed with them, and they all were. We all worked with my dad in his construction business, and I can build the hell out of anything. There’s nothing I can’t fix, and yeah, it’s a good quality to have, but it’s not where I find my joy. My brothers all love that shit, but it’s more take it or leave it for me. And none of them even thought of doing anything other than working with Dad and eventually taking over when he passed, and I felt guilty for not wanting to do it. My brothers say I think I’m better than them, and obviously I don’t, it’s just…”
“Not your ting? I mean, thing.” Oh shit. I drank my second glass of wine while he was talking? I needed to slow down.
“Exactly.” He took a sip, and I could see him trying not to frown. He pursed his lips.
“Oh my God. You don’t have to drink it if you don’t like it. Wine isn’t for everyone.”
“Thank God. That shit is gross. Here, you can have mine.” Will passed it over. When he did, our fingers touched, and I could swear a whole fucking fireworks display went off. Like I heard a loudspeaker in my head saying shit like, This is it! This is your fling! Think of those hands on your body, and oooh, he licked his lips.
Maybe it was the wine. Okay, it was probably the wine, but still, it made me chuckle. I was such a dork.
“What’s so funny?” he asked.
“Nothing.” I tried to keep a straight face, but the thing was, I realized I wasn’t nervous. I wasn’t shaking or embarrassed. Hell, I was feeling pretty good.
I took another drink. I had this date in the bag.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Will
“I’m sorry about your dad,” Jameson said when I told him he’d passed away, but there was something off about his voice. It sounded lighter, more airy.
“It’s okay. I was twenty-two. Cancer. What about you? Both your parents still around?”
“Oh God, yes. Wait, that came out wrong. It sounded like that’s not a good thing, and it is—obviously, it’s a good thing. They’re my parents, and I love them, and I feel like I’m talking fast. Am I talking fast?”
I chuckled. “You’re fine. It’s cute when you ramble.” And it was. He was either rambling or not wanting to speak at all. There was no middle ground, it seemed.
“Good. I just wanted to make sure. But they’re great, my parents. I never had to worry about being accepted. I never went without something I needed. They work hard, love hard, Dad works a little too hard. Mom is the best, but she’s also a mom, and she’s always in my business. She tried to set me up on a blind date the other day.”
“Hey, tell her to wait her turn. I have you right now.”
His eyes darted away, and he bit his lip. Oh, that was cute. Super cute. Who knew that clichéd lip-biting thing was so adorable?
“Anyway, I guess I feel similar to you? Like I’m letting them down in some ways. I’m, well, me.”
I hated when he said that, like there was something wrong with him.
“I’m awkward and a sociology major. I start graduate school in the fall for my doctorate and—”
“Holy shit. Check you out. That’s awesome.”
“Thanks.”
Please bite your lip, please bite your lip, please bite your lip. Okay, wow. I liked that maybe even more than I realized.