15. CHAPTER 15
“Who wants to play cards?” Gavin said. He asked this as if the rest of us hadn’t been waiting all day to play. Six years ago, our family had started a Christmas tradition of playing every card game imaginable after the day’s festivities.
This year, there were more people than ever.
Gavin had invited his friend Jake, Easton had invited himself, and half of our cousins had brought friends.
At least twenty-five people spread across the basement getting ready to play three different games.
The sound of shuffling cards and holiday laughter filled the basement.
My parents, plus the aunts and uncles, sat at one table playing two different games of Euchre, and my younger cousins sat against the far wall playing Go Fish.
That left eight of us older kids to surround the pool table buried under mountains of poker chips. Across from me was Zach, who was sitting to Easton’s right. Gavin had instantly taken the open seat on Easton’s other side and was talking about how his favorite hand was the "Doyle Brunson".
Gavin and I had started to watch the World Series of Poker the previous summer, and we had both gotten hooked in the first five minutes. There were weekends when we’d still be awake watching Poker After Dark reruns when our parents woke up in the morning, which never ended well.
My younger cousin Brandon sat between Gavin and me. He was a month younger than Gavin but looked two years older. He grabbed the playing card that explained the Hold’em rules while I separated the chips.
“Does everyone know how to play?”
“I think so,” mumbled Brandon. The rest of the table didn’t even look up.
“Ask if you have questions,” I said under my breath. “You’ll be fine.”
“You should go play Go Fish with the little kids, Brandon,” said Gavin.
“At least my dick doesn’t look like a little kid’s,” Brandon shot back without missing a beat.
Gavin stared at me, astonished and probably hoping I’d defend him.
“You deserved that,” I said, dealing the first hand.
I ran over most of the table for the first hour, knocking out a couple of my cousins. All the hands of play-money poker had honed my skills enough to win this house game.
Eventually, the tournament thinned out, and we were down to four: Gavin, Easton, Brandon, and me.
“You lasted longer than I thought you would, Brandon,” I said, flipping chips between my fingers.
“I know when to fold,” said Brandon, as he wiped his bangs out of his eyes.
“You’ve been folding every hand,” said Gavin.
“Exactly!” Brandon laughed.
“How do you plan on winning if you don’t play any hands?” Gavin asked.
“I’m fine taking second,” Brandon said.
“Grow a sack,” Gavin said, tossing four green chips into the pot.
“At least I have hair on my balls,” Brandon said.
“brANDON MICHAEL PORTER!” my aunt Cathy screamed from across the room. “We’re going home right now.”
“But I’m still playing,” Brandon pleaded.
“Not happening. Apologize.”
“Sorry, Gavin. You’ll get ball hair soon,” Brandon said. He sprinted out before Aunt Cathy could grab him. She followed her son out the door, not happy in the least.
Gavin’s face had turned a deep shade of red, though he was trying not to let it show how upset he was. He squinted at the wall behind me, giving away his embarrassment even more.
After Aunt Cathy’s quick exit, my parents came over to the table and said their good nights. The only people left in the basement were Gavin, Jake, and Easton on one side of the table, and Zach and me on the other.
“Tanner, I have a question for you,” Gavin whispered.
“What’s that?” I said.
“Don’t laugh,” he said, looking me straight in the eyes.
“Spill it,” I said.
“Do guys really get hair on their balls?”
It took all of my willpower to not laugh at my thirteen-year-old brother’s question. Easton and Zach didn’t have the same control, and their laughter filled the basement. After they settled down, I kept a straight face and said, “Yeah. I think you need to have a talk with Dad.”
“That’s weird. Why can’t you tell me about that stuff?”
“Because it would be even more weird for me than it would be if you asked Dad. Let’s go back to playing cards.”
“Easton will tell me,” Gavin said, turning to his cohort.
“Any questions you have, I’ll answer. And I’ll give you the best girls to follow on Instagram,” said Easton, draping his arm over Gavin’s shoulder.
“Stop! Deal!” I said. I didn’t want Gavin to grow up and stop being my annoying little brother.
Gavin dealt, cards flying through the air. Brandon’s abandoned stack disappeared, and eventually Gavin lost, too, leaving just me and Easton. My brothers and Jake all went upstairs after Gavin’s eyes fell closed at the table.
“Just the two of us,” I said, smirking at what I could guess was going to happen later.
“Again,” Easton said, fidgeting with his chip stack.
“I’m going all in,” I said. Screw this poker stuff. We were alone.
“Sure. Call.” I beat Easton’s queen-four with my jack-six. Neither of us cared at that point. The game had gone on long enough.
“We can play one more hand and make it interesting,” Easton said, his voice lower now.
“Oh yeah? How?”
“If I win, you do something for me. If you win…I’ll do it for you.” He winked at me.
My blood started to pump harder. I arched an eyebrow. “Sounds like a win-win.”
He grinned. “Exactly.”
I knew what he meant. It was in the way he looked at me—his eyes bright with excitement and his dimples popping. As if he were as excited about what would happen as I was.
I dealt; I lost.
He didn’t say a word, just walked over to the couch and leaned back. He locked eyes with me, which made my stomach tighten. My new favorite color was hazel, and I couldn’t stop looking at the only thing that color in the room.
I stood and followed him, the tension between us growing stronger with every step. “Still sure?” I asked, barely above a whisper.
He nodded, the smirk gone now. He’d been so much better since we’d talked after the courthouse, no longer saying he wasn’t gay or that it was the last time. We still weren’t out, but we were finally in this together.
I dropped to my knees in front of him and pulled down his shorts, which caught slightly at the top.
My hands moved slowly, resting on his thighs. His breath hitched. I looked up at him one last time, waiting for any sign to stop. None came.
Then I leaned in, closing the distance.
We were both so still it was like time paused—until the basement stairs creaked.
Easton bolted upright, his thigh hitting my shoulder as he spun. I turned just as fast and then froze.
Gavin stood there wide-eyed, as if he wasn’t sure what he had seen.
Easton pulled up his pants and grabbed his bag in one smooth motion, brushing past Gavin without a word, facing the other way. I stayed kneeling; my heart pounded so hard I thought it'd break out of my chest.
Gavin’s mouth hung open, but his face had gone blank. His fingers tightened around the stair rail. He closed his mouth—opened it again. Then, after what felt like forever, he spoke, flat and unreadable.
“Did you win the poker tournament?”