“I did a Charity last month,” the one with the shorter hair says, prompting his twin to chuckle. “Haven't seen her since then.”
“Mason, behave yourself. Please pretend we're somewhat normal in front of our guest,” their mom scolds, pointing her spatula at the one named Mason, her other hand on her hip.
“Ah, Mom, please don’t hit me with that thing, don’t be mean.” Mason gives her a swift hug–avoiding the spatula–before turning to the table and me, offering me his big hand which I shake. “Hi there. Name’s Mason, but you can call me Mase. Are you one of my idiotic little brother's football buddies?” He grabs Tyler’s cap and flicks it on his own head, revealing Tyler’s messy short hair. I didn’t think it was possible to be even bigger than Tyler–or Lamar–but these guys manage to pull it off.
Before I can respond, he goes on. “Oh, and that shitbag over there is Jason.” He points at his brother, who's busy fetching the coffee pot and more mugs. “But don't call him Jace, though, he hates it.”
Tyler buries his head in his arms as Lamar begins chuckling, but Jason pipes in before they can speak up. “Yeah, it’s stupid. Like Mason and Jason were brilliant names to begin with–no offense, Mom–but Mase and Jace are way, way worse. You can call me J.”
I grin like a fool while they both take a seat and fix their gazes on me.
“What? Have I got something stuck in my teeth?” Mason inquires before flashing his brother his pearly whites.
“Keep your stinky mouth away from my face, loser. I don't want to know what you had in there last night.” J shoves him away and turns his attention back to me. “So, are you?”
“Am I what?” I ask, slightly confused.
“One of my imbecile little brother's football buddies.”
“Watch your language!” their mom chimes in as she slams a plate of bacon onto the table and disappears again.
“Sorry, Mom. Love you!” Mason makes some exaggerated kissing noises, which prompts me to join in with Lamar and Tyler's chuckling.
“No. I’m new to SSU, transferred from Europe, and am in one of their management classes.” I motion toward my classmates and sport a grin like the Cheshire Cat. “Oh, and my name is Jace.”
Two identical pairs of eyes blink at me before the twins erupt into laughter.
“Well,” Tyler interjects once their laughter subsides. “If you two dicks are done being dicks, I wanted to bring him over this afternoon to show him the gym.”
“That’s perfectly fine,” J says, tying his longish hair up in a man bun as he smirks at me. I kind of want to drool all over him–and over the tattoos that stretch over his impressive biceps–but that probably wouldn’t be welcomed. “And sorry, man, Jace is undoubtedly a cool name.”
“I totally believe you.”
“Alright, boys,” their mom addresses us as she sets the remainder of breakfast on the table. “Show me the money.”
All the guys retrieve their wallets and toss a five dollar bill onto the table. I raise my brows at Anne in question.
“These boys are eating me into poverty. If they want to eat, they pay,” she explains, her eyes twinkling with amusement..
Grinning, I reach for my wallet, totally loving this family-vibe. As I place a five-dollar bill on the table, she nudges it back toward me before settling down beside Mason.
“Put it away, dear,” Anne instructs. “You’re our guest. The first time is a freebie. But you're a good sport.”
“Uh, no, he's not a good sport,” Ty interjects as he piles his plate high with a shitload of eggs. “He thinks European Football is the true football, not American Football.”
“The balls aren't even round,” I counter with my go-to argument. “Balls are supposed to be round.”
“I concur with that.” J winks at me as he takes the plate of bacon from Tyler and I can’t help but grin. Okay, maybe hewouldwelcome me drooling all over him. “Speaking of football, where's Dad? He was ecstatic about your win last week.” J gestures toward Tyler with his fork.
“Your father headed to the diner for the breakfast shift. Your aunt Edna was feeling a bit under the weather this morning. And I’m proud of you as well, honey.”
Tyler just grumbles something about it just being a practice game, his mouth full of eggs.
“Aw, don't be modest, Tyler honey,” Mason mockingly coos as he flicks a balled-up napkin at him. “We all know you're the family superstar, the state's superstar, actually.”
“Hey, what about me? I won too,” Lamar pipes in.
“Eh, you're decent. Still not the number one tight end in the state, though?”
