Page 66

“Oh, we are. Canoeing. Hiking. Archery. Emotional trauma. The classics, ya know,” I said, peering to the side when I heard another voice behind my father.

“Pastor Carter?” The man carrying the boxes stepped closer. I hadn’t paid much attention to him before. But that changed quickly.

He was twenty-five. Maybe twenty-six? Definitely an adult. He had dark-brown skin, close-cropped hair, glasses, and a church polo tucked neatly into a pair of tan pants. A little gold hoop in one ear made me smile because my father hated jewelry.

I blinked, and my father looked at him. “What?” Dad barked.

“You asked me to remind you about the meeting with Director Cooper.”

The man glanced at me. Mostly my outfit. His mouth twitched but not with the usual cruel sneer. That caught me off guard. He almost seemed… intrigued?

My father checked his watch. “We have fifteen minutes to finish up here. I will leave you to handle the affairs needing done. I trust you won’t screw that up.”

“Fourteen.” I stared at the assistant and he stared back…

Then he smiled. Actually smiled. At me?

It was not the polite church smile people gave before telling me they were praying for my soul either. It was a real one. His eyes dropped briefly to the pom-poms, while my father’s mouth hardened again when a very unfortunate Darius caught his eye.

“Hello, Mr. D’Angelo. You have a minute? Your mother left me a message this past weekend…”

I tried to eavesdrop, but my dad had yanked Dee too far away for me to hear much of anything. Based on his facial expression, though? Whatever it was made his asshole pucker tighter than when my tongue was deep down his throat a few days ago.

“You coordinating spirit week?”

I narrowed my eyes and returned my attention to the interesting assistant in front of me. He appeared easygoing and stocky and didn’t look anything like my closeted little grump, but the guy was cute.

“Are you making fun of me?”

“Nope.” He looked me over a second time, and I felt myself actually blush at the way his eyes traveled over my body. “I was going to say you’re pulling it off.”

My brain short-circuited, and I froze with my mouth hanging slightly ajar.

“Mr. Carter?” Trevor whispered behind me, and I held up one finger.

I was processing this interaction and the fact that my very broken gaydar was definitely pinging.

The assistant’s smile grew, and my father saw it even from several feet away, where he appeared to be grilling a very uncomfy DeeDee.

Honestly, you deserve it, ya dick.

“Omar,” my dad called out.

“Yes, sir?” my new friend replied.

“Take the donation boxes to the office.”

“Sure,” Omar said before turning back to me. “Nice meeting you, Alvin. I’ll see you again very soon.”

I stared. He knew my name.

Obviously he knew my name. My father probably introduced me as the homosexual tragedy he’d unfortunately produced.

Still. Something strange happened in my stomach. Not butterflies, because I didn’t do butterflies anymore. Those were dipped in boiling acid, thanks to DeeDee. This was more like a moth. A very-confused, singular moth.

“Yep,” I said too quickly, nearly choking on my tongue.

Omar’s eyebrows lifted.