Chapter 13 #3
He’d thought this would be tough, but he’d never imagined just how difficult it was.
Especially the deeper they got into dinner, and he had to keep pretending-slash-ignoring how much of a couple he and Lane had become.
And the things that kept coming up didn’t even feel particularly recent.
Some of the stuff they’d been doing went back to the fall or even the summer, when Trevor had first come to Toronto.
Lane’s takeout places that had become their favorite takeout places. The games they played on Lane’s PS5. The puzzles Lane begrudgingly helped him with. The hockey they’d started watching more and more frequently, especially since they’d become friends with Ramsey.
Tom had just finished his crème br?lée, pushing the empty dish with a little groan and a rub to his mostly flat stomach, and said, tone morphing from amused to serious, “I really mean it. You two have become such a team. Didn’t think it was possible, but here you are, forming this bond we weren’t sure you’d make. ”
“I mean it’s not always great,” Trevor tried to say, though it mostly always was.
Even when they were arguing or disagreed on things like Lane’s video study, for example, they still liked each other.
Trevor was still crazy about the guy. Still wanted to go to bed next to him and wake up with his grumpy face on the pillow next to his.
“We do kinda bicker sometimes,” Lane admitted.
“Over what?” Delia asked, leaning forwards, interest clear in her face.
“Um, well.” Trevor shot an apologetic look at Lane, but he couldn’t be pissed off that Trevor was going to tell their parents about how much film he watched and how good it was, because Delia and Tom weren’t exactly football players.
“Like, I didn’t know how much video Lane studies until I came to Toronto? Because he keeps it a secret?”
Lane groaned in the back of his throat, but he didn’t look mad. Vaguely annoyed maybe, but the corner of his mouth quirked up, like he was trying to hold back a smile. “Not this again.”
“What, really?” Delia sounded surprised.
“I know that’s a big thing for NFL players,” Tom said. “Why’d you keep it a secret?”
“It wasn’t a secret,” Lane said, shooting Trevor a faux glare that Trevor knew for a moment he didn’t mean. There was too much amusement dancing in his blue eyes.
“He didn’t want anyone to know how smart he is,” Trevor said, answering for him.
Lane groaned again.
“What, honey, why? Of course you’re smart,” Delia said. “You’ve always been so smart.”
Lane turned to Trevor, and his mouth lost the battle, half of it quirking up into a grin. “Now you’ve done it.”
“I thought I did it when I told Aidan,” Trevor said.
“You did. And now you’ve just done it again.” But Lane didn’t sound that mad, even.
“I’ve got to side with Trevor here,” Delia said, “you shouldn’t be ashamed of having brains and brawn.”
Lane rolled his eyes. “Guess not now, since the secret’s out of the bag.”
“A good thing,” Tom agreed.
Lane changed the subject then, asking their parents what tourist things they had booked this week.
“A walking tour later in the week, and Casa Loma tomorrow,” Delia said.
“We should take them to Vault later in the week, too,” Trevor suggested. “I can text Ramsey. Get us on the list. It’s a bar our hockey player friend owns,” he explained to their parents, “and it’s got an old bank vault in it, which is why it’s called that.”
They both expressed interest, but Delia said firmly she didn’t want to keep them out too late any night before the big game, and so they agreed they’d go after.
“To celebrate the win,” Tom insisted, like it was already decided that the Thunder would be able to beat the Piranhas, when it was hardly a given.
“We’ll see,” Lane said.
When they were finally in the Uber back to their building, Lane turned to Trevor the minute the car pulled away from the sidewalk. “How could such a good time be so fucking torturous?”
Trevor burst out laughing. “Dude, you decided that we weren’t going to tell them yet.”
It had been so hard; there’d been so many times he wanted to just blurt out the truth. Especially every single time his dad looked over at the two of them like he was pretty certain he’d already figured out what was going on.
“I know, I know, but I was thinking it would be harder to tell them. But really, it’s harder not to,” Lane grumbled.
“Except now we haven’t,” Trevor agreed.
Lane sighed. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think you might be right.”
“What?”
“I just . . . I thought it would seem weirder, but you’re right. It’s time. We need to do it. Maybe after the game? Mom’s right, we don’t need any more distractions.”
“Are you saying I’m a distraction?” Trevor teased, leaning close. Not so close that the driver would be able to tell for sure that something was going on, but close enough that he could see Lane’s eyes grow a shade darker, like he was already imagining Trevor being the most distracting.
“You know what you’re doing,” Lane grumbled, but the obvious fondness in his eyes gave away just how he felt about it.
“You like it.”
Lane leaned in, and now there probably wasn’t plausible deniability, but that was okay, too, because Trevor was already beginning to think they wouldn’t be keeping this relationship under wraps much longer. “Baby, I love it.”