I turned in his arms then, resting my hands on his hips. “Okay, that’s special. You’re special. Ri, most people wouldn’t ever want to look at a picture of themselves like that, but you, you’ve turned it into something completely beautiful for yourself.”
He smiled. “Thank you, for seeing it like that. Nobody else does.”
“Maybe because they still think of you as that adorable little guy,” I said, turning back around to face the first picture of him again. I was still powerless to stop the smile that formed when I looked at it.
“Alright, we’re going to bed now. Come on,” he said and started tugging me away from the pictures and down the hallway. He pulled me into his room and shut the door behind us. I looked around trying to take it all in. There was a lot to learn about him from his childhood bedroom. However, it was late and he was impatiently digging through my bag and tossing my pajamas at me. I chuckled, the inspection of his room would have to wait.
“You sure your parents don’t mind me sleeping in here with you?” I asked again, not wanting to cause any drama in the family. Riker always seemed to be one wrong step away from a fight with his mother.
“Didn’t ask, and they never told me you couldn’t, so I don’t really care. They have a problem with it they can take it up with me tomorrow,” he answered.
Once we were both changed and climbed into bed, settling down on top of each other, I said “So, any more kid pictures of you lying around I can look at?”
He chuckled and smacked my chest. “Ask one of my parents when you get a chance.”
Chapter 15- Riker
November 21st, 2016
I froze immediately after I shut my bedroom door. My dad had just walked out of my parents’ bedroom.
“Hi Dad,” I said quietly.
He raised an eyebrow at me. “He’s in your room isn’t he?”
“He might be, yeah.”
“He still asleep?” He asked.
“Yes,” I said cautiously
Dad inclined his head towards the stairs, “Come on, I’ll make breakfast.”
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t excited at the prospect of him making breakfast. The only thing he ever made for breakfast was pancakes and they were possibly my favorite food, which I would never tell Kit. The excitement was just enough to cloud over my apprehension about the forthcoming conversation. I had no idea how my father felt about Kit sharing my room. Spending the night with my boyfriend in my room had never come up before, not in discussion about this week and not in practice with my ex.
As we walked into the kitchen he headed straight for the pantry and started pulling out the pancake mix and syrup. There was a bar section of the counter with three stools at it and I happily rushed forward and took a seat on the middle stool. The middle stool was always my stool.
“We’re out of chocolate chips. Allie was here making cookies and used the last of them,” Dad said.
“Blueberries?” I asked hopefully. Chocolate chip pancakes were the best, everyone knows that, but blueberries were a good second.
“Yeah, sure.” He moved to the fridge and pulled out the rest of the ingredients. “You have any homework you have to get done while you’re here?”
I shrugged. “I have work, but if I don’t get it done while I’m here it’s no big deal.”
“Rike,” he chided.
“It’s just a couple of pages on my reaction to a book, Dad. I already read the book. I can get it done in an hour and it’s not even due until a couple days after we go back. It really is no big deal.”
“You stress me out sometimes when it comes to school, you know that right?” he asked.
“You remind me every chance you get,” I said with a proud smile.
“It’s not a compliment, Rike.”
“It is to me.”
He smiled and shook his head. “How was the drive here? I was worried about the two of you driving so late.”
“It was fine,” I answered, “Kit drove the whole way.”
“Is he nervous?” Dad asked.
“I don’t think so. It’s hard to tell sometimes though,” I said.
“You’re mom will not be happy about him sleeping in your room,” he said.
Smooth transition, I thought to myself. “We live together. How is sharing my room here a problem?”
“She’s still not entirely happy about that either, Rike. Look, I don’t care if you guys share a room, or an apartment, or whatever else you want to share. You’re happy, you treat each other well, and that’s all that matters. He can stay in your room while he’s here, I’ll talk to your mom and smooth it over with her. Just be on your best behavior, alright? It’ll make things easier.”
“She’s the one who picks fights with me. She knows what makes me mad, what upsets me, and she does it anyway. And I’m the one who needs to be on my best behavior?” I said in complete disbelief.
“No, look.” He paused and sighed, looking at me for a moment. “Try not to let her get to you over the little things. If she picks a fight with you then alright she picks a fight with you, I don’t expect you to just take it, but if you can walk away or anything else then try. Please? If not for my sake then for Kit’s, because it’s going to get awkward for him real fast if you and her are fighting every day.”
“Fine, I get your point. I’ll do my best.”
“Thank you,” he said then started placing the pancakes on plates—I was confused because he had three plates out, “Now eat. Both of you.”
“What?” I said, startled. I looked up at my father for a split second, before turning around to find Kit had just walked into the kitchen. He had changed into regular clothes, but he was probably not fully awake if the look on his face was anything to go by.
“Oh,” I smiled and nudged the stool next to me out, “Come sit down. Dad this is Kit. Kit, this is my father.”
“You’re not allergic to anything are you, Kit?” Dad asked.
“Just pineapple, sir,” Kit said as he sat down.
“Good. Eat. There’s more if you’re still hungry after that. And you don’t need to call me ‘sir’.”
I saw Kit look skeptically at the syrup for a moment. Dad had brought out the fancy pure maple syrup and Kit was probably trying to decide if he wanted to try it or eat the pancakes without it. I picked it up, reached over, and poured it over his pancakes for him. He smiled a little suspiciously at me and eventually swatted my hand away when he decided there was enough. For a minute or two we just sat in silence eating. When I had finished my first two pancakes, Dad was already waiting with two more, which he flipped onto my plate. I smiled up at him, completely pleased, and he just chuckled and turned back to his own plate of food.
I started in on my next pancake, Kit seemed to be enjoying the food, and then I had a thought. “Dad, why aren’t you at work? And where is Mom?”
“I just got back from China, yesterday. I’m taking the day off. Your mom went on a shopping day with her friends,” he explained. “She’ll be back before dinner.”
“I see she’s excited to see me,” I muttered.
“What did we just talk about, Riker?”
“She’s not here, I can’t cause trouble with her if she isn’t here,” I said in my own defense.
Dad turned to Kit and said, “Kit, even if it doesn’t seem like it, I assure you they do in fact love each other.”
“Yeah, he’s warned me.” Kit kicked my foot softly under the bar.
“Probably a good thing. Do you want more pancakes?”
“Oh, no thank you, I’m full, but they were really good,” Kit said.
“I’m glad you liked them.”
“Can I have another pancake?” I asked.
“You’re going to have a sugar high,” he said accusingly.
“Please?” I said with a small pout.
Dad turned to Kit, “What do you think? You’re going to have to deal with him all day.”
I looked at Kit then and deepened my pout.
I flashed him my most brilliant smile, then turned it on my dad when he laughed and dropped another pancake on my plate.
“So, here’s the deal, kiddo. The lawn needs to get mowed and errands need to get run before your mom gets home. You can either go shopping for me or you can stay here and mow the lawn.”
“They both sound horrible, but I’ll take the shopping,” I said.
“Great. There’s a grocery list on the fridge. There’s also a list of things from the hardware store. The dry cleaners, the bakery, and I think your car needs air in the front left tire.”
“You said you’d take care of all the car stuff for me while I was gone!”
“You have a car?” I flinched from Kit’s question about the same time my Dad raised his eyebrow at me for my comment.
“He has an old Shelby Mustang, which I just discovered the low air on yesterday while I was in the garage.”
“Sorry,” I muttered. “I’ll take care of everything.”
“Thank you.” He took both of our empty plates.
I shooed Kit away to put his shoes on, while I grabbed my car keys. It was nice to have them back in my hands again. Dad tracked down a shopping list for me and soon I was leading Kit towards the garage. His jaw dropped the second he walked through the door.
“An old Shelby! That was the biggest understatement of the year. This is a ‘67. How did you get a ‘67?” Kit said as he stepped forward mesmerized by the car. His hands hovered over it but didn’t touch it. I just smiled, took his hand, and placed it on the hood of the car.
“It was my grandfather’s. He was into restoring old cars. I helped him with this one when I was a kid. When he died, he left it to me. And it was years before I had my license, so I used to just sit in it and pretend. But you know giving a kid like me this as their first car was always asking for trouble, so Dad never really wanted me to have it. So the deal was at the time that he’d help me but I had to take care of it myself, you know, make sure nothing on it ever went into disrepair from not being used. I didn’t get it at the time but he was trying to make sure I cared about the car so much that when I finally could drive it, I wouldn’t be reckless in it like most teenagers would, you know?” I explained.
“He’s smart,” Kit said with a nod.
“Yeah, I appreciate what he did a lot, now. It would break my heart if something happened to this car, and knowing what I was like as a teenager I probably would’ve done something stupid otherwise. I’ve been in love with this car since my grandfather first bought it, and it’s all I have left of him, so it’s even more special now,” I said.
“So why don’t you have it at school?” he asked.
“Dad doesn’t want me to have it there. Thinks I’ll get into trouble with it, or that someone will steal it or something equally bad,” I answered.
“I don’t blame him,” Kit said.
I stuck my tongue out at him playfully.
“Right, Mr. Mustang, shall we go run these errands?” he said.
Chapter 16 - Kit
November 21st, 2016
“Time out, time out,” I said as I bent over with my hands on my knees, trying to catch my breath.
“You good?” Riker asked.
“Yeah, yeah, I just need to catch my breath,” I answered.
“Okay, let me know when you’re ready to go again,” he said before taking the soccer ball and started doing some flicks and tricks with it. Somehow, after knowing him for going on three years, I was still marveling at his never ending supply of energy.
“I’m going to grab some water real quick. Do you want something to drink?” I said.
“Yes, please,” he answered without ever stopping what he was doing.
“I’ll be right back,” I said.
I walked into the house and through to the kitchen. I poured a glass of water and drank that quickly, very much in need of some rehydration. Then I moved to the fridge to look for a drink for Riker, figuring that he probably wouldn’t be happy with water. Thinking he didn’t need the caffeine at the moment, I decided against the soda and grabbed a Gatorade for him. Then, as I shut the fridge and turned around to leave the kitchen, I almost had a heart attack.
Just then, walking into the kitchen, was probably the definition of a sophisticated, classy, upper-class, voluntarily unemployed wife and mother. Her hair looked like she went to a hair dresser at least twice a month. The clothes looked brand new. They certainly didn’t get worn more than a handful of times, if even that often. It was the first time since I stepped foot in this house that I actually felt like money was on display, like I might be out of my element here.
“Oh, hello,” I said. Instantly hating myself for not coming up with something more intelligent to say.
“You must be Kit,” she said, sounding like some professor I was meeting for the first time instead of a boyfriend’s mother.
“Yes, and I assume you’re Mrs. Shahayer,” I tried to put as much formality as I could into my voice without sounding like a robot.
“Yes,” she replied.
There was an awkward silence for a couple of seconds, I’m pretty sure it was the result of the fact neither of us expected to meet on accident without Riker present.
“Riker’s outside, I was just grabbing him a drink,” I said lamely.
“Well, don’t let me keep you from him. I’m about to cook dinner, let him know it’ll be ready in about an hour,” she said.
“Will do. And it was nice to meet you,” I said.
“Likewise,” she said.
I retreated back out of the kitchen and to the backyard as quick as I could without looking like I was in a hurry to get away from her. As soon as I stepped back outside Riker halted mid-run and looked up at me. “Did you get lost? That took you ages.”
“Your mom is home,” I explained, “Dinner will be ready in about an hour.”
It was almost comical how fast Riker’s face blanched.
“What happened? Was she nice to you?” He asked.
“Yeah, yeah she was fine. It was just kind of awkward you know? Both of us were caught off-guard,” I said.
“But it went okay?” he asked again.
“Yes, I mean she was a little too prim for me, but it wasn’t bad,” I answered truthfully.
His shoulders lost some of their tension then. “Yeah, she’s like that. Sorry I wasn’t there. That wasn’t exactly how I imagined you meeting her.”
“It’s fine. We didn’t know she was home, and she didn’t appear to hate me, so it’s all good.”
He huffed fondly. “Brilliant standards here.”
I chuckled and shoved the drink in his hand, “Come on, drink that so you can get back to making me look like a fool.”
“You’re not that bad,” he said.
“No, no, you’re just that good.”
“Complimenting me won’t make me go easier on you.”
“Have mercy, my prince,” I all but pleaded with him.
When we had gotten back from running errands, in a moment of absolute insanity, I had agreed to play a little one-on-one soccer with him. We had been at it for half an hour before this break, and while I was having fun, he was absolutely wrecking me.
He danced away from me a little ways with the ball at his feet, and said, “No, I don’t think I will, but we can quit whenever you want.”
Well, I wasn’t about to give up. I should. That would be the sane thing to do, but no I was determined to at least get past him once. He wasn’t making it easy though. He wasn’t going full out on me, but he wasn’t going easy on me either. I still felt like I was playing against a seasoned pro and not just another guy for fun. More than once, Riker knocked me on my backside, only for both of us to smile and him to pick me back up. He wasn’t being mean or obnoxious about it. It was just hard for him to turn that level of skill and natural talent off, and I understood that. No, we were having fun even if I was getting a little bruised from
it all. Still, I wish I could just beat him once.
It was about the twentieth time that he pulled me back up and nudged the ball towards me to let me start that I decided playing fair was no longer a requirement. I dribbled the ball slowly towards him and as he made a move to take it from me, I reached out and latched my arms around him, spinning him around to the side. I kept one arm looped around him, holding him squirming in one place, and kicked the ball into the net.
“No fair,” he protested.
“Neither is you having played your whole life and me barely having ever kicked a ball outside of PE in school.” I kissed the side of his neck and let him go.
He spun and looked at me with a smile and said “You, sir, are a cheat.”
“And I stood no chance, otherwise. Come on let’s go inside. Dinner has to be about ready.”
“Yeah, I am getting pretty hungry.” He took my hand and we went inside, heading straight for the kitchen.
“Oh, there you boys are. Riker, your father and I are going out for the night, your dinners are on the table. We’ll see you guys tomorrow. And welcome home, Rike,” his mother said as soon as we walked inside. Then she was walking out without even a second glance or waiting for a response. Riker just tugged me over to the table off to the side of the kitchen. There were two plates of chicken, roasted potatoes, and broccoli.
“Did she make dinner just for us?” I asked in shock.
“Yeah. She knows I can’t cook, and she’s always had this thing about takeout, so I don’t know she’s just always gone out of the way to cook dinner even if it was just for me. I keep telling her she doesn’t have to, but it’s whatever,” Riker said casually.
“That’s not whatever, that’s love right there,” I said.
Riker shrugged, “About the only time she outwardly shows it too. The point is Kit, you get used to weird things like that around here. Dinner’s not really a big deal.”
It was weird, spending hours to cook a full meal just to turn around and go out to eat, but it also was a big deal. At least, to me it was. I couldn’t sit and argue that with him though. We had different perspectives on it, and as much as I can make him see my side of things sometimes and vice versa, this one wasn’t really worth it. Besides, his mom was always a touchy subject. It was probably worse on days like today when she hardly acknowledged his presence.
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