I snort and he laughs.
“Shit,” I say, remembering. “I didn’t ask you how your game went. Who were you playing, Harvard, right?”
“It’s called amatch,and yeah, we won 7-0.”
He tilts his face to kiss me and I catch his lips gratefully. They’re—heis—like one fucking good thing in a sea of shit. I want to wrap myself up in his world. Tennismatchesand country clubs. Even if it is fantasy. Even if it’s only temporary.
“Does it hurt?” he asks. His voice is just above a whisper now.
“No, come here.”
I pull him in by the waist, kiss him properly, my nose stinging when it squishes against his, but it’s worth it.
I put my hands on his neck, kissing him deeply while I grind my cock against his and he sighs into my mouth.
“Evan,” he pulls away, breathless, putting his hands on my chest to keep me at arm’s length. “Fuck, I want to, but we can’t. Not here.”
“I know, relax. I was just teasing you.”
“Asshole.” He grins.
We’re both smiling when we come back into the kitchen. Ma frowns at us.
“So, what’s for dinner?”
I let Stacie steal Nate after dinner to playNHL-something.Nate doesn’t even know the rules of hockey and I can hear her kicking his ass while I help Ma with the dishes.
She’d usually be smiling her head off over me helping her, about Nate being here, but she keeps side-eying me like she’s gonna cry.
“Stop looking at me like that, Ma.” I dry a plate and put it in the cupboard.
“I can’t help it, you’re my baby. I hate seeing you hurt.”
“I’m not a baby, I’m twenty-years old.”
“You’ll always be my baby.”
She hands me another plate after rinsing off the bubbles.
“I wish you’d stop hanging out with those losers.”
I dry the plate and put it in the cupboard.
“Did one of them do this to you?”
“It was just a stupid fight, Ma. It happens.”
“No, you and Nate never got into fights.”
“Yeah, we did.”
“You never came home like this.”
“That’s because Nate’s a pussy.”
She tuts at the word.
“Sorry, Ma.”
