Chapter 6 #4
He didn’t want to see the disappointment in Delia’s eyes if he shot her down. And apparently Lane didn’t want to either, because at the last second he added, “I think it sounds like a great idea, honestly, if Tom’s willing to brave the cold weather.”
“What about me?”
“Mom, you’ve always been made of hardier stuff than that,” Lane teased.
Trevor swore he saw her let out a quick breath of relief. Like she’d been worried too. The last thing he wanted was to get involved in whatever potentially thorny family issue Lane and Delia had going on, but it was going to be hard not to ask.
“Not subjective at all, huh?” she asked, eyes twinkling right back. “We’ll look at flights and a place to stay. I’m sure there’s lots of short-term rentals around the downtown area.”
“Mom—”
“No, no, your place is full, and you don’t want us there, cramping your style. The space will be good.”
Trevor wasn’t going to disagree with her assessment. Lane’s condo was maybe only eight hundred square feet. It only had two bedrooms. Plus, if Delia and his dad moved in, it would definitely, unequivocally put to rest any chance of experimentation.
And Trevor really, really didn’t want that.
Wishful thinking, he didn’t think Lane wanted that either, because he just nodded. “Agreed,” he said. “If you want to send me the addresses of the places you find, Trev and I can go check them out for you.”
“Oh, that would be so great,” she enthused, looking more animated by the minute. “Gosh, I’m so excited about this idea. I’ll do some research and be in touch, okay?”
“Yeah, definitely,” Trevor said.
Another minute of small talk and she said she had to go, and Trevor hung up.
For a long moment, he and Lane sat there in silence. Trevor didn’t want to think it was heavy silence, but it had some kind of charge to it. Like they’d both just been forcibly reminded that their parents were, in fact, married.
Finally, Trevor stood up and stretched. Trying to act like the silence wasn’t bugging him. Like everything was fine and normal. “I’m gonna work on my puzzle for a bit, and then head to bed,” he said to Lane, who was still sitting on the edge of the couch, pensive look on his face.
Lane didn’t say anything until Trevor was all the way over at the puzzle table, leaning over the corner he’d been working on the other night.
“Yeah,” he finally croaked out. “Sounds good.”
Trevor told himself to leave it alone. But he’d never been smart, apparently, because the moment after the thought, complete with underlines and red exclamation points, he turned to Lane and asked, “You okay?”
“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”
Trevor could think of several reasons off the top of his head, but he wasn’t about to be stupid enough to say any of them out loud. There were still moments where he wasn’t sure Lane even liked him, and if he waded into this messiness, Trevor wasn’t sure at all how Lane would react.
So instead, he just shrugged, and returned to his puzzle, even though it felt performative rather than any actual act of focus.
He’d shuffled around the same three pieces when a shadow appeared over where he was working.
To Trevor’s surprise, Lane sat down with him. “It’s weird, right?” he said.
“I think it’s only weird if we make it weird.” That was maybe optimistic, but fake it til you make it was a thing for a reason.
“When they come, are you going to tell them about . . . you know, you?” Lane asked a minute later.
Trevor was pretty sure what Lane was asking was, are you going to tell them about us?
Not that there was an us. It was just an experiment. Convenient and easy, though when Trevor thought about it, maybe only half of that was true, and the half that might be was still up for debate.
“I hadn’t thought about it,” Trevor answered and at least that was totally honest. He’d not been thinking of confessions, only about how much he’d been enjoying himself.
“I think . . .” Lane trailed off.
Trevor wished he’d fucking finish that thought, because he’d sure love to really know what Lane was thinking once in awhile.
“What?” Trevor asked, glancing up, meeting his eyes, hoping the look in his own was encouraging.
Lane made a sound at the back of his throat. He sounded frustrated, maybe. “I’m happy they’re coming, really.”
But Trevor thought he understood what he wasn’t saying—what he didn’t want to say. But them coming adds another wrinkle to this whole thing.
“Yeah, me too,” Trevor agreed. With what Lane had said and what he hadn’t.
“Here you go,” Lane said suddenly, and fit a piece in that Trevor felt like he’d been fruitlessly searching for for days. He stood. “I’m going to bed. We got practice in the morning.”
Trevor almost told him that he could go lie in bed all he wanted, but that didn’t mean he’d actually sleep, but that wasn’t going to do him any favors.
His fingers itched to touch Lane as he lingered for another second, right over Trevor’s shoulder, staring down at the puzzle, but this wasn’t part of the experiment. At least Trevor wasn’t sure, and he wasn’t about to overstep, not when Lane was in this weird mood.
“Night,” Trevor said instead, and Lane nodded, disappearing through the living room and into his bedroom a few moments later.