Before I can snap back, my brother Thomas joins us, giving James a once-over that makes my blood boil.
"Interesting choice, Caleb," he says. "We thought after Christopher, you might go for someone more...established."
The mention of Christopher makes my stomach turn. James stiffens beside me, clearly recognizing the name.
"Actually," James cuts in smoothly, "Caleb and I were about to get some drinks. If you'll excuse us."
He places a hand on the small of my back, gently guiding me away from my family. When we are away from them, I feel like I can breathe normally again.
"Thanks."
"Your family is exactly as advertised," he says dryly. "I'm surprised they don't have pitchforks and torches."
That startles a laugh out of me. "The night is young."
We make our way to the bar, where I order a scotch neat. James opts for club soda with lime.
"Not drinking?"
"I think I should stay sharp in this crowd," he says with a small smile. "Besides, I want to remember every excruciating detail of this evening to torture you with later."
Grinning at his opinion of this event. "Fair enough."
Gavin joins us a moment later, looking pleased. "Your aunt introduced me to some bigwig from the athletic department at State. He's a huge football fan."
"Networking already?" Raising an eyebrow at Gavin, who smirks back at me. "Impressive."
"I contain multitudes," Gavin says, ordering a beer. "So what's the plan? Mingle? Hide in a corner? Start a conga line?"
"We should probably make an appearance with my father. Get it over with."
"Lead the way," Gavin says with a wink.
My eyes roll, but I smile at the same time. Gavin is a surprisingly amazing guy to have around. I haven’t tried to get to know him, but now I think I’ve been missing out.
James's hand stays firm on my back as he guides me through the crowd, and somehow that steady pressure is enough. For a moment, I forget that we don't yet know if this is real or pretend.
This feels real.
We find my father holding court near the stage, surrounded by his usual entourage. He's in his element, all perfect teeth and practiced sincerity.
"Ah, and here's my son!" he announces as we approach. "Caleb, I was telling Governor Richards about your work with underprivileged communities."
Blinking, I'm momentarily confused. The only "work" I've done recently is helping James with redesigning websites for LGBTQ+ charities, something my father doesn't know about.
"Don't be modest," my father continues, clapping me on the shoulder. "Caleb has a real heart for service. Gets it from his mother."
The governor, a portly man with shrewd eyes, nods appreciatively. "Wonderful to see young people engaged in giving back. Will you be joining your father's campaign staff after law school?"
"I'm focusing on non-profit law, actually," ignoring my father's slight frown. "And these are my friends, James Hunter and Gavin Robins."
Handshakes are exchanged, and my father's gaze lingers on Gavin with obvious approval before dismissing James entirely.
The governor perks up. "Robins? From the Pacific Coast football team?"
"Yes, sir," Gavin says. "Defensive end."
"Outstanding game against Tech last month," the governor says, then turns to me. "I attended it with your father. He never misses a game."
