Chapter 40 #2
I pulled back enough to look him in the eye. “You don’t want a profound conversation?”
“Absolutely not.” Dean took my hand. “I want food, a locked room, and several uninterrupted hours where nobody asks either of us for statements.”
I stared at him again. “That is the smartest thing you’ve said all week.”
“Thank you.”
I bit back a smile. “It’s a low bar.”
He let out a mock gasp. “I’m not sure I like your improved command of English.”
I snorted. “I will not forget your comments to Mila at breakfast this morning.”
Dean gave me an innocent glance. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“No? Then let me remind you. There I was, doing my best to produce fluid, emotionally nuanced English, and—”
“We were discussing breakfast cereals,” he said with an eyeroll.
“Fluid, emotionally nuanced English,” I repeated, my jaw set, “and Mila stared at me and said ‘Who are you and what have you done with my partner?’”
Dean chuckled.
“When I replied that I had always been capable of excellent English, you told me—and I quote—that I had been ‘holding out.’ And when Mila pointed out that I had used a metaphor, you gave her a wide-eyed look and said ‘I know!’”
Then he laughed, and whatever irritation I’d been holding onto dissipated.
“You’ve been practicing. It shows. That better?”
I sniffed. “Maybe.”
“I’ll make it up to you later, I promise.” Dean squeezed my hand and we started walking toward the exit.
For once, I didn’t stop to catalogue every possible consequence before taking the next step. The world hadn’t become safer.
I was simply tired of letting fear make every decision first.
As we neared the main doors of the arena, his phone vibrated, and he removed it from his jacket pocket. “Ah.”
“Your parents?” I guessed.
He nodded. “They’re asking where and when we can meet.” He glanced at me. “And before you start panicking, I’ve told you. It’ll be fine.”
I thought quickly. “You should meet them first, without me.” He opened his mouth, no doubt to disagree, but I silenced him with a quick kiss. “Listen to me. This is a talk that belongs to the three of you. When you are done, then I will meet them. Maybe somewhere for dinner?”
Dean regarded me steadily for a moment. “You know what? You’re right. I’ll message them to meet me at that cafe near the Forum. Then I’ll text you when—”
“When it’s safe to enter the lions’ den.” I smiled. “A joke, but you do understand.”
“Yeah, I do.” Dean pulled me to him and pressed a kiss to my cheek, and I marveled at how easy it had become to do this in public.
I’m not afraid anymore.
I pulled back. “I was serious about dinner. I would love to eat somewhere that isn’t the cafeteria.”
“Hey, we can totally do that. I’ll get them to book a table.” Then Dean focused on my face. “Have your parents been in contact?”
The question caught me off guard.
I swallowed. “No.” Not after the kiss, not even after the silver medal.
For a second, disappointment flared before I could stop it.
I had spent years preparing myself for conflict. Somehow silence hurt more.
Dean’s expression softened immediately. “Hey.” Then he smiled. “This is where I warn you. My mom’s a hugger.”
“I have nothing against huggers,” I quipped. “Tell them where to meet you, then we will catch the Metro.”
Another kiss, and Dean’s thumbs got busy.
I could send a message to my parents, force a reaction.
Then I reconsidered. If they want to talk to me, they will.
I knew they would.
Eventually.
Dean
Mom frowned as I approached their table, staring past me. “Where is he?”
I laughed. “Oh, I get it. You don’t want to see me. Thanks. I’ll go now, shall I?”
She squinted at me. “Give your mom a hug, or you’re a dead man.”
I gave her a hug, and she returned it.
“Carol, go order him a coffee,” Dad instructed.
I knew that tone.
Dad wanted A Talk.
Mom shrugged. “I was going anyway. I wanted another cannoli.” She rolled her eyes. “Dear Lord, the pastries here are just—”
“Carol.” Dad gave her a hard stare.
“I’m gone.” She walked briskly toward the counter, and I pulled out a chair.
Dad gazed at me for several seconds, until I couldn’t wait a second longer.
“I haven’t grown another head, have I?”
He blinked. “Not unless it’s someplace under your clothes, no.”
“Okay. I’m still me. I just happen to love a guy.”
That got me another blink. “Love?”
I gave him a wide smile. “You think I go around kissing every guy I meet in front of the whole world?”
“Well, when you put it like that…” He cocked his head. “So you’re a… bisexual?”
I chuckled. “How can you make bisexual sound like alien?”
He held his hands up. “Hey, I’m just trying to keep up.” He paused. “Have you always been this way, and you just never told us?”
I rubbed the back of my neck. “I don’t know.”
Dad blinked. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.” I laughed. “I mean, I dated girls. I loved Claire. None of that was fake.”
He listened quietly.
“I never spent much time putting labels on myself,” I admitted. “Maybe because I never had a reason to. Then I met Luka and I stopped being able to explain it in a way that made sense.”
Dad let out a breath. “Because you fell in love with him.”
“Yeah.” I smiled. “Because I fell in love with him.”
Saying it out loud still felt a little unreal. Not wrong, just… new.
Mom appeared at my side. “I see you started the interrogation without me,” she teased.
“I’m not interrogating him,” Dad protested.
“So where is he? Where’s Luka?”
I sighed. “I told you. He said he’ll meet us for dinner tonight. Remember? Right before I asked you to book a table for four?”
Dad snickered. “Relax. I’ll do it. Your mom’s been addled ever since she saw the pair of you kissing on TV. God knows how many texts she’s had from friends back home, all dying to know more.” He cackled. “And she couldn’t tell them a damn thing.” He studied me. “But you’re happy?”
I smiled. “More than I’ve ever been.”
Mom’s face glowed.
Dad leaned back in his chair, and some tension I’d never even noticed before now seemed to leave him.
“All I needed to know.”
Mom reached across the table and squeezed my hand.
“Good,” she said simply. Then she smiled. “Now, about the approximately seven thousand messages I’ve received…”
I laughed.
“Kyle’s sent a ton of messages.” She blushed. “He said to tell you that you have good taste in men.”
I couldn’t help smiling. “Kyle’s gay, right?”
“He hasn’t come right out and said that, no.”
Dad cackled again. “I see what you did there.”
Mom rolled her eyes, then returned her attention to me. “But I think I have what they call a gaydar.” I arched my eyebrows, and she shrugged. “I usually know which students will end up marching in Pride parades, put it that way.”
I tilted my head. “Bet you didn’t think you’d see me at one of those.”
“No, sir, I did not.” Then her face glowed. “But seeing you this happy? I’ll take being wrong every single time.”
My phone buzzed, and I glanced at it.
“That Luka?” Dad asked.
I shook my head. “It’s from Mark. He wants to see me.” Then another message popped up, and I blinked. “In two hours’ time.”
“Sounds important. Forget your coffee. I’ll buy you a cup after dinner. I’ll text you the restaurant details.” Dad reached across the table and grasped my hand, squeezing it. “Love you, kiddo.”
Warmth filled me. “Love you. Both of you.” I stood, then kissed the top of Mom’s head. “I’ll see you tonight.”
As I hurried out of the cafe, my phone buzzed again.
Mark: I need to see you, Luka, and Mila. Your room in the Village.
Okay, something was going on.