Chapter 13 #2
“Yeah, he ate all my dry unseasoned chicken and my undercooked rice and my limp vegetables. Not a single complaint. Til one day he just pulled a pork tenderloin—”
“That you were about to ruin,” Trevor interrupted.
“That I was about to ruin,” Lane agreed with a dry chuckle. “Took it right out of my hands. Came home the next day to half a dozen boxes of kitchen equipment and a whole-ass grocery delivery.”
“You had one pan. One,” Trevor retorted fondly. Probably too fondly. He should take it back, but how could he, now that it was out there? Better to just own it now.
Delia and Tom were smiling now, clearly pleased at how well they were getting along, so maybe it was okay. Maybe they’d interpret this all the way their teammates did. Instead of overlaying the demon twins label on, they’d just stick brothers on them and call it good.
“It’s a wonder I survived before,” Lane said, but he didn’t sound sarcastic, he sounded so pleased, like a whole world had opened up when Trevor had refused to let him ruin that pork tenderloin. But probably, Trevor realized, it was more than that.
It was when Trevor had leaned over his puzzle table and said, I think I might be into guys and the next day when Lane had suggested that if Trevor was going to experiment, he should be experimenting with him.
“It is,” Trevor agreed, his turn to be smug about it.
Under the table, Lane squeezed his leg, and Trevor didn’t think he could look away from the emotion in Lane’s eyes, particularly green in this light and actually sparkling, even if he should. Even if their parents were absolutely watching.
Tom cleared his throat and Trevor dragged his gaze back to his dad. “Sounds like it’s going pretty well, all things considered,” he said thoughtfully.
“Right,” Delia agreed. “We weren’t sure . . .”
She trailed off, like she didn’t want to actually say it out loud—that both she and Tom had hoped and wished that they’d be friends, at least, but they’d never had the chance.
Or, Trevor wanted to add, the balls.
Because he’d wanted it, for sure, he just hadn’t understood why, not until he’d gotten to Toronto.
Not until he’d gotten close to Lane and begun to see under his exterior.
“Well, it’s not always been perfect,” Trevor said, because he wasn’t about to say any of that. Not yet. “If you want an example, the team calls us the demon twins.”
“No!” she gasped and looked over at Tom, who just looked amused. And a little bit knowing. Like he’d already guessed why.
“Yeah,” Lane said, chuckling. “But we’re getting there, right?” He looked over at Trevor again, and goddamn it, Trevor’s good intentions were fucking useless in the face of wanting to look back.
“We’re getting there,” Trevor agreed. They were, in every single way that counted. Awkward dinner, where he was approximately five seconds away from confessing everything to his parents, notwithstanding.
Trevor just couldn’t come away from this conversation and the way Lane’s hand was so casually possessive around his knee, and then an inch and then two, upwards, around his thigh, and the way he leaned into Trevor, and think that he’d never want to tell Delia and Tom.
He would. He just needed time, and time was something Trevor could give him, even if it was kind of killing him.
“Well, we’re both very impressed,” Delia said seriously.
Tom nodded in agreement. “Kind of thought you two might not make it out of the season as roommates, but instead, you seem closer than ever.”
“What, you thought I’d move out?” Trevor was surprised, maybe even shocked.
“You two are grown men, and grown men need their space, and you don’t have to live with Lane,” Delia said. “We just thought it would be nice at first, when you were still getting your feet under you, with your whole rookie season.”
“Delia kept telling me I should send you some of the apartment listings I found,” Tom admitted.
Trevor didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t leaving. In fact, in the last month, he’d burrowed even deeper into Lane’s life. Lane hadn’t just welcomed him in, he’d put his arms around him and held him there. Like he never wanted Trevor to leave.
Now he was going to have to figure out a way to tell his dad that no, he had no intention of getting his own place.
“Bonus,” Delia said, “we could come visit more often. Because you’d have your guest room back.”
Trevor couldn’t help the glance over at Lane. He seemed equally shocked. And God, they really hadn’t had to find a place to stay, because they could’ve stayed in the guest room. Since Trevor had one hundred percent moved into Lane’s room by this point.
“Um, yeah, that’s a thought,” Lane said noncommittally.
“I’m not sure what I’m doing.”
“But next year for sure,” Delia said with a firm nod of her head. “Now, what’s everyone’s plan for dinner? I know you two boys are getting steak. What about you, Tom?”
“Oh, this sea bass looks really good, yeah? We don’t get seafood like this in Arizona. Another good reason to get a place here, maybe?”
“Tom,” Delia teased playfully. “We just got here, don’t scare them yet!”
“Well, if Trev isn’t going to get his own place . . .” Tom trailed off, shooting Trevor a big smile. Like it was cute and sweet, like they were endeared by the fact it turned out that Trevor and Lane actually enjoyed living together.
Trevor tried very hard not to squirm in his chair; instead, he changed the subject, hoping that this time it might stick. “I’m going to get the porterhouse pork chop with the applesauce, I think.”
Lane nudged him. “That’s what I’m getting,” he murmured.
“Oh, that’s so cute, you guys like the same things now!” Delia exclaimed.
“You wanna share some of the garlic broccolini?” Lane asked.
“Oh yeah. And the mashed sweet potatoes?” Trevor murmured back.
“Perfect,” Lane said, and it felt like it wasn’t just their side dish choices he was pronouncing total approval on.
Trevor told himself not to glow about it, but it was hard.