Eight
OREN
It’s been six days and I’ve been floating on cloud nine.
Getting home past one in the morning the night Traer pulled me from the stands to meet Adak, I found all of my brothers and father waiting for me.
Frankie had never looked at me with such resentment before.
Dane looked at me suspiciously. My father with a severe frown.
And Haze… I almost thought he was there for support.
Which was silly. He never said anything in my defense.
I’d had the foresight to make a plan for what I was going to tell them when I got home. Though I thought I’d have time to really flesh out details and a believable lie overnight, mistakenly thinking they’d already be asleep. That was very obviously not the case.
So I gave them the most basic information. I got to meet the team. Then I was invited to ‘hang out’ as they wound down from a tough game. And then the coach himself drove me home.
I repeated it over and over again, no matter how many times they asked.
While I didn’t make a habit of lying, I knew I needed to keep it simple.
Anything ornate and I’d give myself away.
For example, to keep up appearances that I worked at Nutter Bean, I had to be there as often as I said I was working.
Eventually, unable to find me in a lie and not coming to any conclusions about why me of all people would be gifted such a privilege when Frankie was far more deserving, I went to bed. Haze didn’t join me that night.
Adak and I texted continuously for the next couple days and when he could tell I was feeling stressed one day, he invited me to his practice. The way the team treated me was… incredible. I’d never been immediately embraced like that before. It made going home all the more difficult.
That evening I got home late. Shelton had texted me that my dad had stopped in when I wasn’t there. He told my dad that I was running errands and gave me a list of things I did that day. As Adak drove me home, I memorized the list.
Everyone was home, and Dad was not happy.
I repeated the list many times, never wavering from the simple story until they eventually let it go.
There wasn’t a chance in hell that any of them believed me.
More than anything, I wanted to lash out and say that I’m an adult. I can do whatever the fuck I want.
I didn’t do that. It’s been a long time since my older brothers have physically hurt me. Not since we were kids. But my gut said they wanted to and that my dad wouldn’t stop them. So I kept my mouth shut.
Now, I’m waiting for Adak to pick me up. I made sure to give him a time when I knew Frankie would still be asleep, but after everyone else would have already left for school and work. I’m waiting outside, sitting on the steps, so I don’t have to worry about the doorbell waking Frankie.
My heart leaps when his car pulls down the street.
I race to the end of the driveway so he doesn’t pull in.
I don’t want to take the chance that his engine wakes Frankie.
Even with as quiet as his car is and though there are times when Frankie could sleep through a sinkhole swallowing him, there are other days when a fly might wake him up. And I don’t want to deal with him.
I don’t want to have to come up with an explanation right now.
“Hi,” I say when I climb in.
Adak smiles and it makes my stomach flutter. “Hey,” he says, reaching for my hand.
I settle onto the seat, securing the buckle, and grip his hand tightly.
Something I’ve learned since meeting him is he likes to hold hands.
As someone who’s never held hands before, I find the feeling of his skin against mine to be the best feeling in the world.
How securely his hand grasps mine, as if he doesn’t want to let me go.
He keeps my hand in his while we drive through the busy streets of Anaheim.
“I know I said I’d take you out to lunch, but how would you feel if I cooked for you instead?” Adak asks.
“At your house?” I ask dumbly, and then wince. Where else would he mean?!
But he just grins. “Yes. If that’s okay. If you’re not comfortable?—”
“I’m comfortable!” I say quickly and probably a little too enthusiastically, and feel my face heat. Jesus, I can be such a loser sometimes. “Sorry. I’m excited and nervous.”
His hand squeezes mine. “It’s okay.”
Our conversation is quiet as we talk about work. I decided on the very first night that I was never going to tell him even a smidgen of a lie, even if that means risking the fact that I’m not who I present to my family ends up coming out. Even if that means that I am forced to come out.
The idea terrifies me because I can only imagine how hellish home will become then. I’m not entirely sure if my family is homophobic. As with everything, I get mixed signals. But they’ve already made it clear they don’t like me as I am, so I don’t want to give them any more ammunition.
So when he asked what I did for work, I was honest and told him about moderating Second World. He seemed curious and interested in that. As we move through the streets of Anaheim, he asks, “How’s work going?”
I smile because no one has ever asked me that.
“It’s good. Kind of fun looking through code for cheats, you know?
And I like being able to ban people who harass others.
There are some sick people out there and in a game like Second World, the number of online predators is a little scary.
It feels good being part of the solution. Even if my part is so little.”
Adak looks at me with concern. “Online predation is one of those things that you read and hear about, but rarely find someone who has lived through it in the world I live in. Are you safe?”
His worry makes my chest warm. I grin. “Yes. Very safe.”
He nods. “You’ve caught predators in your game?”
“When I took this job, I had to watch a lot of online videos about what I’m looking for as far as predation and grooming and how to tell if someone isn’t who they pretend to be.
It’s difficult because online, you can be anyone.
Determining whether that persona you present is a complete lie or maybe your authentic self when you can’t be that person in life.
Once I think I stumbled upon a real one.
A real predator.” Remembering makes chills race along my skin, raising all the little hairs as if someone walked across my grave.
“It was… surreal. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.
Luckily, following the channels to report it to the big guys at Second World was easy.
Their response was immediate, and we got the police involved. ”
“Wow,” Adak says, looking at me with reverence as we sit at a red light. “A real-life hero. In my car.”
I laugh, my cheeks heating. “Not even close.”
“Oren, you might have saved countless lives. That’s heroic.”
“It’s just what I’m supposed to do in my job,” I say, shaking my head. “I was getting paid to find people misusing our game.”
“Are firefighters who save people from burning buildings any less heroic because it’s their job?” he asks. “Are soldiers who fight for our country any less heroic because they’re getting paid?”
I chew the inside of my lip and shake my head. “No.”
Adak doesn’t push any further than that. A moment of silence passes between us as I consider his words. I never thought about it as being heroic. I’m not sure I believe it, but I am happy that I was able to maybe stop them from hurting someone else.
Adak pulls off the busy streets and we’re immediately transported into a beautiful neighborhood with large houses and super green grass.
It’s remarkably quieter here, as if there’s a bubble protecting it from the city noise.
That is, until I hear the roar of an airplane overhead and duck low in my seat to try to see it out the window.
“That’s why these houses are as affordable as they are,” Adak says, chuckling. “We’re directly under the flight path.”
“I don’t think I’d mind,” I say as the plane disappears. “Watching planes is kind of cool. How something so big and heavy flies is just… incredible.”
He’s smiling at me as we pull into what I presume to be his driveway. The house is big. Three stories of classic colonial style with a ton of huge windows and pillars. I stare because I can’t help myself. I’ve never been this close to something so… grand.
Adak parks the car, and we climb out. Offering me his hand, Adak leads me to the door as I stare in awe. Inside is just as breathtaking as the outside and I’m left staring. There’s a mix of period colonial pieces mixed with modern touches. I don’t know where to look first.
“This is beautiful,” I say.
“My sister will be pleased to hear you say so,” he says.
“Does she live here too?”
He chuckles. “No. But she decorated it for me when I bought it.” His fingers touch my face and gently guide my gaze to his. I flush. “Are you starving, or can you wait an hour or so to eat?”
“I can wait,” I say, breathless.
“I have a quiche prepped, but it’s going to take a while in the oven.”
I nod. “That’s okay.” I ate a granola bar this morning, as I do every morning. It’s a force of habit at this point more than hunger first thing in the morning.
“Want to look around while I get it going?” Adak asks.
“Can I see your kitchen?”
His smile does things to me. I’m pretty sure my knees shake when he smiles. “Absolutely. This way.” He brings my hand to his lips and kisses the back of it, his eyes never leaving mine. He steals my breath in that one move. With my hand still secure in his, Adak leads me to his gorgeous kitchen.
I stand at the side of the counter and watch as he sets the oven and pulls a few containers from the fridge to assemble the quiche components. I’m sure this man would look good shoveling cow poo, but boy, does he look good in the kitchen.