21. Home （Super） Sweet Home
21
Home (Super) Sweet Home
Rockwell
C lay’s right behind me as we walk through the front door of my childhood home. I’ve always been self-conscious about the size of our home and how outdated it is inside… but I always remind myself that it’s the love and memories that fill these walls that really matters.
I’m not surprised at all when Clay’s dad was radio silent because we fucking swept today. He only calls when he feels like he has something to bitch about, and today there wasn’t one thing that he could’ve found wrong with our game today.
1 I can feel Clay’s body heat with how close he is to my back, so I turn around and throw my arms out. “Well… this is the living room.” It’s big enough to fit a couch and loveseat, a couple of end tables, and an entertainment center with the TV mounted above it.
The thing I love the most about our house, though, is the original hardwood floors my dad has restored over the years. The deep oak color ties everything together, and they cover the whole house besides the bathroom. Just a little three-bedroom, single-bath home in SoCal, but what else do you need?
I walk him into the eat-in kitchen, and his face lights up when he sees my mom by the oven with her apron on. Hers is a lot more worn out than the one Clay had on at my place, but you can tell it’s been well-loved.
“ Amor , I hope you brought your appetite with you.”
“It smells delicious, Momma.” Fuck, have I missed her cooking. That was honestly the hardest part about leaving for school freshman year. Obviously, I miss my family, but missing out on the home-cooked meals was enough to send me over the edge.
I grab Clay by the forearm, dragging him behind me to show him the rest of the house before dinner is ready. All that’s left of the tour is the bathroom and bedrooms. Quickly, I show him those before heading to my bedroom to breathe for a minute.
I flop down on my childhood bed, staring at the wall my bed is pushed against. It’s covered in old posters of athletes I’ve always looked up to and, of course, half-naked women. I’ve never been embarrassed about my room, but there’s a first time for everything.
Clay breaks the silence after spinning around, taking in my full room. “If this room doesn’t scream high school boy I don’t know what does. It’s about time I get to bring my high school fantasies to life.”
“Fantasies, huh?”
“I wasn’t out about my sexuality until freshman year at Palm. My hot as fuck friends from high school did have rooms just like this though.” Sporting a mischievous grin, he starts to run his hands up my thighs as he continues, “Let me suck you under these posters.”
I throw my head back, basking in the feel of his hands on me, but then I remember we’re in my house with my parents and sister, and the damn door is still open.
Hissing, I grab his hands to stop him. “Not right now, Clay.” I can’t be sporting a goddamn boner when we head back into the kitchen.
We’re all sitting at the table, Clay beside me, enjoying my Momma’s favorite Brazilian dinner she makes, escondidinho —pretty much a better version of a Sheppard’s Pie. I turn to my right, looking at Clay, and then down at his plate… He’s already finished what he had, and right when I see the clean plate so does Momma. “Rocky, go get that boy some more. He’s starving.” We meet eyes, and I can tell he’s still nervous.
I chuckle, trying to ease the tension in his shoulders. “You don’t have to eat more if you’re full, but if you do want more, there’s plenty, I promise. Momma doesn’t know how to cook in small portions.”
Actually, that’s a lie. I think she does, but she just loves to feed people. Food is my momma’s love language, and it was always a huge way for her to teach us about Brazil. One of my favorite memories was listening to her tell us stories of her childhood while we helped her out with dinner.
He finally answers, “I would love more, but I can get it.”
“No, no, I’ll get it. You’re a guest in this house, relax.” I grab his plate and make my way to the attached kitchen. I can see my sister across the table eyeballing Clay before looking up at me. I know she knows there’s something more between us, but she’s keeping it to herself… for now. She’s most likely stock-pilling evidence to call me out later.
I hear my mom ask Clay, “They must come to all of your games while living so close to the school. What I would give to be so close to my, Filho… ” She trails off, lost in thought, and I’m practically running back to my seat, throwing the plate down in front of a now stiff Clay. I completely forgot to warn my parents about the sensitive topic.
Quickly, I change the subject, announcing, “Did I tell you guys that Clay threw me a birthday party this year?”
Luckily Lil catches on and asks, “Oh! Let me see the pictures! I know your vain ass took some.” She loves giving me endless shit about the fact that social media is my job, but she can’t deny that it pays well and works perfectly with my hectic schedule .
I’m convinced Lil is just jealous of the fact that my socials have blown up over the last few years in comparison to the ones for her business. My sister is an incredibly talented esthetician, but the market here is beyond over-saturated, and she’s not getting the clientele base she deserves. I told her to move to Florida by me so I can refer everyone I know to her, but she’s always been iffy about leaving home. I know it’s because she’s scared to leave our parents without any children nearby, but, just like I do, they would only want what’s best for her.
Grabbing my phone from my pocket, I pull up the pictures from my party. My sister immediately starts laughing her ass off while scrolling through them. “Why the hell is everyone in crop tops? Is that Shania Twain?” She zooms in like a fifty-year-old on one of the pictures. “Let’s go, boys? All of you are dumb as hell.” She’s now howling with laughter and that’s what finally pulls Clay back to the present and out of that head of his.
“We did the ‘dress like the birthday… boy’ theme,” Clay stutters, realizing that is definitely not the word they used the day of the party.
Before I know it, he and Lil are chatting it up, and they quickly form a plan to go see Shania in concert by the end of dinner. I roll my eyes dramatically, but my heart is on the verge of bursting. I love being able to show Clay what a caring home looks like .
I throw the suggestion out there, “How about we have a cookout tomorrow? We all can run to the store in the morning to get what we’ll need.”
My mom’s looking at me like I’ve hung the moon, as Dad excitidly shouts, “I call grill duty!”
I catch myself staring at Clay as he slides his shorts down his muscular thighs, but stop that train of thought and instead ask him, “How are you feeling, Garot?o ? My parents overwhelmed you enough for a lifetime today. And don’t even get me started on Lil.”
“I love your sister. We’re besties now,” he states matter-of-factly, crossing his arms over his chest while still only in his briefs. My eyes shamelessly rake over his corded arms before roaming down his stomach and each knot of muscle covering it, right to the patch of hair leading down into his briefs. And don’t get me started on his V-cut. I suddenly have the ravenous urge to feel it under my tongue.
I pry my eyes off his gorgeous body and force them back to meet his gaze, only to realize he just watched me eye fuck him as I realized just how delicious he looks in my childhood bedroom.
His full-beam smile is out, and he raises a brow at me. “Are you done?”
“To be determined,” I answer with a shrug and a sly smile.
Clay booked a resort for the week, but my Mom was not about to let him stay in a hotel by himself. I offered him the couch but, in that same breath, told him he was more than welcome to sleep in my bed with me, fully aware that my parents wouldn’t care or question it. I’m not going to lie—when he decided on my bed, I was relieved, but I quickly remembered that we’d need to behave. I don’t know if anyone could stop us once we get going again.
The deep-rooted desire I have to hear his moans of pleasure again is visceral; the sounds that come out of him when he’s turned on need to be studied because no one has the right to sound that sexy.
Actually, better yet, somebody can study why they do what they do to me .
This is the first night we've actually planned to sleep together, and it almost feels like it’s going to elevate whatever this is between us. But I think we’re both ignoring that… for now.
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