I don’t care about PDA, I never did, my family is way too open for that. But when Jace becomes pliant in my arms, opening up his mouth to let the first sweep of my tongue in, someone clears his or her throat.
I let him go, stepping back, and I can’t help but grin at the dazed look on his face, a blush warming his cheeks.
“So, are you going to punch him again, or should I?” Mase asks, his arm slung around his twin, who cringes. “He did try to kiss Jace after all.”
Before I can reply, my dad pipes up. “No more punching. More eating, please.” He unlocks the hallway cabinet that houses a big array of liquor. “But I think it’s time to bring out the good scotch.” He waves a bottle our way, before disappearing back into the dining room. My mother and brothers follow him, leaving me and Jace alone for a bit.
“So,” I start, my arms automatically wrapping back around his waist. “Welcome to the family, I suppose? I’ll make sure to have some Advil on hand whenever we visit.”
He lets out that deep throaty laugh of his, before giving me a quick peck on the lips, grabbing my hand and pulling me with him to the living room. “Leave the Advil. You punching someone who’s hitting on me might make my head hurt, but not the one on my shoulders. Totally hot.”
“Heard that! That’s gross!” Mase shouts and I grunt, welcome to the family indeed. A crazy one that is.
“I still can't believe you never had turkey before.” My mom starts when we’re lounging by the television after dinner, finishing upsome orange thing that she’s knitting next to my dad on the loveseat. The rest of us are stuck together on the other couch watching a god-awful Christmas movie. “How is that possible by the way? Are turkeys extinct in Europe?”
I smother a laugh at Jace’s perplexed expression at my mother’s question. If I know her–and I do–she’s trying to lighten the mood a bit after the debacle in the hallway, keeping things normal. Not that that’s needed in this family. Half of them are probably halfway gone to drunkytown because of all of the eggnog and scotch, and the other half–meaning my brothers–don’t have enough brain cells to care that much.
I know my mom’s joking… But Jace doesn’t and starts to explain that the Netherlands don’t have any spectacular wildlife and he only ever saw a turkey in the petting zoo when he went there with his nanny.
As I smile and listen to their chit-chat, I throw my arm around Jace’s shoulders and put my socked feet on the coffee table, making myself comfortable.
No way that I’m not gonna own it now that I’m out. My parents obviously don’t mind this at all, since I can see the happy glimpses my mom keeps throwing us. So if I wanna side-hug my man in public, I will.
Well sort of public anyway. My parents and brothers actually agreed that we are smart about keeping this under wraps. The media should be focused on my achievements in the game and not on my sexuality.
Which makes me a bit ragey, because if Jace were a girl? Then there wouldn’t be any handling and avoiding necessary.
I get why we do it, I do. Besides the fact that the focus would be on the wrong thing and I would hate the extra attention, the world can also still be a fucked up place for queer folks. I know what kind of shit happened to Jace. And that's the very reason Iwant to show him that in this house people are cool about it, and can accept us for who we are.
So I let my fingers slide around his neck, digging in and softly massaging the knots loose with my finger tips. He lets his head fall sideways and gives me a heart-stopping smile.
“You’re so cute together,” Mom pipes in, her needles clicking against each other. “I’m sorry that I didn’t have a Christmas gift, Jace. So this is for you. It’s going to be a scarf in the team colors!” She holds up the wool, beaming.
“What the hell does he need a scarf for in Southern California?” Mase asks.
“Why thanks, Mom! Why didn’t we get any presents?” J butts in before she can answer.
“Because you guys ate enough today to make us get a second mortgage. And Jace is not on my shit list yet.”
“What did we do?” They ask at the same time.
She points a knitting needle in Mase’s direction. “Besides throwing your brother off a damn roof?” The needle switches to J. “Or trying to maul your brother's boyfriend?” Now it’s my turn. “Or not telling your dear old mom who has been nothing but kind to you that you had some existential crisis? No, you’ve not been good boys this year.” She winks at me as she says it, though.
“Yes. All three of you are idiots. Now shut up and watch the movie, knuckleheads,” Dad says.
“Can’t we watch a game? Those two might like this.” Mase waves at Jace and my global direction from where he’s seated on the floor. “But this lovey-dovey shit is boring. Unless it’s Die Hard, I don’t think it counts as a Christmas movie.”
“Yippeekayay, motherfucker!” J holds up his fist to his brother and they knock one out.
“All in favor?” Dad asks, and all three of us immediately raise our hand so he changes the channel to ESPN, looking for a game to watch.
Chuckling, I focus on Jace, but he’s staring at Mom, a shy smile on his handsome face.
“Thank you,” he says to her in a soft voice. “It’s beautiful. I’ll make sure to wear it when I’m in Amsterdam. It’s way colder there.”
“See? He can use a scarf,” Mom says with a smile in her voice, knitting along.
While J and Mase are now solely focused on a game–I don’t even care which one–I pull my guy closer. Not that he’s noticing, because he’s staring at the tv mighty hard.
