What I didn’t count on was that my dad would recognize Diego on the doorbell cam footage.He gave me a lecture about hanging around with the “wrong people” the next day.Something about Diego’s dad being a “druggie” back in their school days, and Diego’s brother Frankie being a “druggie and a thief”—which was technically true, but he didn’t know that for sure.And then, just when I thought he was done talking to me about how my choices today would affect my football career tomorrow, he came out with,Doesn’t it bother you when guys act all faggy like that?
Jesus Christ.I hadn’t thought about that in forever.Even if you didn’t know your son was also a fag, what a fucked-up thing to say to him.
I cleared my throat and started grinding the pepper.Better to get it all done before, since the dish came together really fast once it was in the pan.“You never invited me over.”
“I mean, obviously.”He smiled again.
Yeah, his house was pure chaos.Everyone in the county knew it.And it was part of why Dad didn’t want me hanging out with him.“So?”
“Fair.I guess.”He shrugged, then relaxed his shoulders again.“Sorry.We’re supposed to not think about that.Before-stuff.”
A rush of regret hit me, frayed and familiar.“No.I don’t want…” I knew what I wanted.I wanted this: Diego, here in my kitchen, talking to me like we’d always been friends.But I didn’t want it to be fake.Built on a lie.
Should I tell him what my dad had said about that night?No.It’d just fuck with his head—or make him think I didn’t care if it fucked with his head, which was just as bad.
But mostly, “I want… you to be able to say anything to me.And me to you.”
“So, nothing like last time,” he said wryly.
“We were kids.”I smiled.“We’re not anymore.”
“We certainly are not.”His gaze slid down my bare front, then back up again.He licked his lips.
Jesus Christ, he was good.
“There was a lot we didn’t say last time.”He finally looked away, releasing me.
I turned my back to check the pasta, which was just about done, the water barely covering it now.“Never again.”
“Big words.”
“I’m not just a pretty face.”I glanced over my shoulder and smiled, trying to lighten things back up again.
This time, his smile showed the adorable gap in his front teeth.“We’ll see about nothing going unsaid.I’m quick to fuck, slow to talk.”
“I got time,” I promised.
He let me feed him and declared my cacio e pepe perfection, which felt pretty nice.Then, after dinner, I couldn’t help saying, “You could stay.”
He glanced up at me sharply, eyes narrowed, as if trying to figure out what I meant.
“I mean, for a movie.Or as long as you want.Overnight.”Again, blushing seemed so fucking dumb, but I couldn’t help it.
He smiled, finally.It lit up his eyes like the sun through stained glass.“Let’s not push it.Invite me out sometime this week?”
I opened my mouth to suggest tomorrow.
As if he knew, he cut me off with, “Thursday, maybe?”
I shut my mouth and nodded.Of course, wait a day or two.He had a life.Jesus.
I kissed him at the door, and he bit my bottom lip playfully to finish it off.“Thanks for dinner.And letting me have dessert first.”
I leaned down to press my forehead into his.“Thanks for coming.”
He laughed, which made me realize the double entendre too late, and then twisted out of my arms.
I watched him go from the doorway, and then stood there a few minutes after, just thinking.Hoping.
