Give me an existential crisis why don’t you
ok
“MAT?”
I looked up from the selfie Miles had sent of himself lying in the sun, his silver necklace gleaming on his bare chest. “Yeah?”
Dad stood at my open bedroom door, his skin extra tan against his pale knit sweater. “Thought we might celebrate your birthday a week early. Since you’ll be in Washington for it this year. So, what’ll it be? Red velvet cake? Black forest? Tiramisu?”
He smiled as he spoke, this conversation a tradition we’d had almost as long as he’d been making me birthday cakes. Every year he made a bunch of random suggestions and every year I asked for the same thing, my choice so predictable that the recipe was written in the family cookbook asMatteo’s Carrot Cake. He’d probably already bought the carrots and cream cheese.
“How about . . .” My intention had been to play into the joke by dramatically stretching out my answer, yet as I paused, I found a different answer leaping to my tongue. “Chocolate mousse cake.”
Dad’s brows shot up. “Mousse cake?”
“Yeah.”
“Who are you and what have you done with my Matty,” he laughed, stepping in to set a hand to my forehead. “You’re not feeling sick, are you?”
“No, I just thought I’d pick something different.”
“Sure. I’d better warn Nonna though so she doesn’t have a heart attack.”
He turned to go, but before I could return to Miles’s bare shoulders and teasing smile, Dad looked back. “You still taking Nico tomorrow?”
“Yeah, if that’s okay.”
“Sure, I think it’ll be good for him. Needs to make up his mind if he wants to take the game seriously or not, and sooner rather than later.”
He went out, leaving me to smile at the handful of messages Miles had left in the mere minutes I’d been distracted.
nothing
seriously?
or did my pecs murder you?
oh my god mat are you jerking off?
at least call me if you’re going to do that
Not murdered! I was just talking to my dad
Which is also why I’m not calling you to jerk off. I live with my parents, remember?
Hell, I can hear my brothers arguing and its not conducive to getting hard no matter how hot you are
The phone rang.
“Challenge accepted,” Miles said, the words a purr in my ear. “I hope you’re alone or this is going to get embarrassing for you real fast.”
“I said we’re not doing this!” I laughed. “Can you hear that?” I added as in the next room Nico complained that Benji was cheating and told him very loudly that he could get fucked.
“Oh, you’re not doing anything. You’re just going to listen and tell me how hard you get.”
I looked around at the mess that was my room, a space caught between still being the bedroom of a sporty teenager and the storage closet it had become. Next door, the argument was getting heated. “It’s not happening,” I said, lying back to stare at the handful of glow-in-the-dark stars I’d never bothered to peel off the ceiling.
“Mmhmm,” he agreed sceptically. “Sure, so imagine it. It’s sunny, it’s hot, and I’m lying beside my pool in just a pair of shorts.”
