From the Inside Out

by Talya Andor

  Lucas grimaced. "That doesn't sound…not bad."

  "Trust me, the way things have been going lately? It was."

  They exchanged a hand squeeze and made their way to the Cove, switching to lighter topics of conversation. Soren had a mini-rant involving all the running around he'd had to do on campus to catch up that morning, and Lucas let him know that they'd be looking to cut Jack out of their lease as soon as possible.

  "Oh," Soren said, giving him a sidelong glance. "That's good."

  "That's very good." Lucas wondered about that look.

  They arrived at the Cove, and separated briefly to get their food and drinks. Soren found a seat for them at a recently-opened table for two, and they settled in across from one another. The table was small enough, and their legs long and gangly enough, that it put them knee to knee.

  "Want to know what else is good?" Soren asked.

  "Of course," Lucas said, raising a brow.

  Soren smiled, his long fingers toying with the food on his plate. "Michelle promoted me to shift super."

  "That is great!" Lucas had to reach over and capture Soren's hand for that, giving it a brief squeeze and releasing it. He adopted a sly look. "Now I don't have to be cagey about dating one of the staff, right?"

  Soren laughed. "Not that there's a policy against it, but no." He dredged a fry through his ketchup and held it up another moment longer. "Hope you don't mind training me."

  Lucas grinned. "I'll show you the ropes."

  "And this doesn't mean we can have sex on the counter-tops."

  Lucas raised his hands. "Heaven forbid. Although, if sex is on the menu…"

  "What are your plans for tonight?"

  "Oh, I…" Lucas's brain and mouth went into total lockdown.

  "Lucas?"

  "Um," Lucas managed, and took a bracing breath. "It's a good thing you're sitting down. Um. And make sure to swallow that hamburger."

  Soren flashed him a brief, reserved grin, but chewed and swallowed as recommended. "Okay…"

  "Uh, I…this is…how to explain." Lucas pushed his tray aside to make room for his arms, and folded them atop the table. He laced his fingers together and stared at them.

  "Is there a good news, bad news scenario?"

  "Ah. Well, actually…yes? I've done a bad thing, maybe. I'm not sure what you're going to think." Lucas reached over and grasped Soren's hand.

  Soren let him, fingers limp in his for a moment before he twitched, nodded, and gripped Lucas's fingers tightly in return. "Okay…What's the good news, then?"

  Lucas attempted to crack a smile. "The good news is, I'm inviting you out to a fancy restaurant tonight. Wildwood—have you heard of it?"

  Soren's eyes shot open. "Lucas," he murmured, sounding awed. "I'd love to, but…can you afford it?"

  "Ah, here comes the bad news," Lucas said, smiling inadvertently as Soren continued to look concerned for him. "See, the thing is, we'll be having dinner with my parents. My dad and his wife, Irene."

  Soren went rigid, eyes wide. "Oh, God."

  "No good?"

  "Oh my God. You want me to what?"

  Lucas squeezed his hand. "Meet my parents?"

  Soren stared out the cafeteria window for a long moment, then sighed. "Yeah, I'll do it."

  "That's okay—" Lucas began, and did a double-take. "Yeah?"

  Soren's smile bloomed into brilliance. "Yeah, I will. But you've got to give me time to get home and change into something decent, first."

  "Of course." Lucas raised Soren's hand to his lips and kissed his knuckles.

  That brought another smile to Soren's face. "This makes us extra official, you realize. I know this is a big step for you. And I really…it means a lot to me that you want me to."

  Lucas had to hide a grin behind his hand. "Thank you," he said softly, and received a squeeze of Soren's fingers and the barest hint of a smile in response.

  Twenty-One

  Afternoon winds had shaken the last clinging husks of leaves from the neighborhood trees as Lucas circled his Lexus once, twice, and found a place to park. Like many Portland districts that weren't in the heart of the concrete and brick downtown area, Wildwood was framed in trees before, after, and around the corner. The trendy restaurant, touted for its elevated Pacific Northwestern menu and sustainable cuisine, was tucked away in the corner of a block that was shops and cafes to one side, residential homes to the other. Lucas scanned the cars in the tiny parking lot enclosed with black wrought-iron railing. His father and step-mother would be in a rental, but he found himself scanning for signs of familiarity anyhow, bracing himself for the upcoming encounter.

  "Hey," Soren said beside him, touching his elbow when Lucas remained unmoving long after they'd parked.

  Lucas drew in a slow breath and looked over at Soren, attempting a smile. It stretched on his face like a grimace.

  "You sure you want me here for this?" Soren asked, moving his hand up Lucas's arm until his palm was warm and reassuring on the back of Lucas's exposed wrist. Soren's hair was hanging loose and dark around his face, styled in its new sleek layers that tapered to his chin. Even with the short cut, he was androgynous, and the most beautiful thing Lucas had ever seen.

  "There's no one else I'd rather have with me," Lucas said, prying his hand from the wheel and lacing his fingers with Soren's.

  "We're early," Soren noted, indicating the dashboard clock with a slight jerk of his chin.

  "On time, by my dad's standards. He'll be in there already, probably at the bar." Lucas forced himself to breathe again and reminded himself that he didn't want to do anything without Soren by his side.

  He was bringing it out into the light of day. And yeah, he was risking everything, but what he had to gain was worth so much more.

  "You really want to do this? Your dad is paying for school—if he cuts you off, or—"

  "I'll figure it out," Lucas interrupted, not to shut Soren down, but to override the same thoughts that had been tumbling uselessly through his head since he'd set out on this course. There was a very real possibility his father would tell him to break up with Soren or he'd cut off financial support. It wouldn't be the first time his father had thrown around the weight of financial backing in order to leverage Lucas to give him what he wanted.

  He tried again for a reassuring smile. "There are times when you need to stand up for what you believe in."

  Soren's brow was marred by a delicate frown. "Listen, Lucas…if you're doing this because of what happened to me the other night…"

  "I'm not," Lucas said, dismissing that with a little shake of his head. His fingers tightened on Soren's. "I'm doing this because I love you. I believe in us. You're a part of my life, and you're not going away." He paused, gulping breath again.

  Soren gave him a gentle smile. "You don't have to get disowned to prove you love me."

  "I'm not," Lucas said, shaking his head. "I mean, I do love you. But this is more about my dad and me, you know? This is about him realizing I'm my own person. And there's some things his money can't make me do." Lucas squeezed his hand.

  "So, let's go show him that," Soren said, and leaned closer, giving him a hopeful smile. "And hopefully have a nice dinner too."

  There was a cold wind blowing, but Lucas barely noticed, reaching for Soren's hand as they moved with quick strides from the tiny car lot to the entrance around the side of the building. There were tables in an outside area, none of them set for service. When they reached the door to the restaurant, Lucas was faster, opening it and holding it for Soren, grinning when their eyes met as Soren gave him an amused look with an arched brow.

  Lucas kept Soren secured to his side with an arm around his shoulders as he scanned beyond the brief entryway with its host stand, and located the bar area. He looked past the hostess in her white silk blouse and slim-cut black pants. At the bar, a man in a gray suit jacket was half-propped on a bar seat, a highball glass cradled in one hand. Beside him was a tall, bone-thin woman in a red dress and black heels,
her blonde hair pinned up high on her head.

  Breathe, Lucas reminded himself. They were his parents, and no matter how much he became his own person, he knew their opinion would still matter to him. Despite the fact that they had nothing in common.

  But they were also just people, only human.

  "Dad," Lucas said, certain that the back presented to him in the gray suit jacket was his father.

  There was a freeze in time, a slow-motion swivel. Jonathan turned from the bar, Irene craning around in her chair beside him.

  Lucas's father was a tall, powerfully built man. It had been a few months since Lucas had seen him and his first impression was how his father looked older—not the vigorous, somewhat sardonic, power-suited man in his mind's eye. His sandy brown hair was receding into a sharp widow's peak and there were frown lines permanently creased into his forehead and etched between his brows. He was a handsome man, though, and had the strong nose and handsome eyes he'd passed on to Lucas along with other genetic gifts.

  "Lucas," Jonathan greeted him, picking up his highball glass from the bar. "About time." He started forward and his brows pinched as his eyes went from Lucas to the tall gorgeous person by Lucas's side.

  Over Jonathan's shoulder, Lucas caught sight of Irene slipping from her chair, a flicker of annoyance crossing her marble-perfect features.

  "And who's this?" Jonathan asked, sizing up Soren.

  "I told him to make reservations for three," Irene spoke up from behind him, sounding annoyed.

  Jonathan's eyes were still on Soren.

  "Soren, this is my father, Jonathan Daye," Lucas said, keeping his arm firmly around Soren's shoulders. "Dad, this is my boyfriend, Soren Wilkenson."

  Jonathan's brows shot up his face and his mouth fell ajar. "Boyfriend…"

  His words were drowned out by the high-pitched noise Irene made.

  "Daye, party of four?" the hostess asked, before anything further could be said.

  "Let's have a seat," Lucas suggested, removing his arm from Soren's shoulder but brushing his hand. From the corner of his eye, he caught Soren's faint smile.

  They were escorted to a simple dark wooden table with place settings for four laid out. The table was adorned with a single tea-light candle wreathed in a sprig of ivy. Lucas settled to one side of the table, waiting for Soren to pick the seat beside him, and turned at last to see his father's approach.

  Jonathan's face was impassive, almost noncommittal, but there was a tic going to the right side of his jaw. "Well," he said. "You've certainly become…liberal."

  Lucas closed down in a scowl. He straightened up as a light touch brushed over his thigh. Below the table he sought Soren's fingers with his own, drawing not only comfort but his strength from that light touch.

  "Soren is in my life to stay," Lucas said, dredging the words up like a challenge. "He's important to me. I love him, and…"

  Jonathan held up a hand. "I don't care what you do in bed, Lucas," he said, expression pained. "Let's not get into that, all right? We're here for a nice dinner and polite conversation. Soren, this is the first I've heard of you, but pleased to meet you, I'm sure."

  Soren's head came up and he murmured something noncommittal.

  "So, Soren, what do you do?" Irene said, taking her cue from Jonathan. She gripped the stem of her wineglass tightly and shot glances at the two of them.

  "I, um…I go to the same university as Lucas," Soren replied, clearly taken aback to be addressed so civilly, so early in the evening. Blue eyes turned Lucas's way as though to ask, wasn't this supposed to be a disaster?

  "And how did you meet?" Irene asked.

  Soren hesitated a moment, picking at his napkin with his left hand and squeezing Lucas's fingers. "We work at the same Starbucks—and, well, we'd seen each other around campus."

  Their waiter arrived to interrupt the potentially awkward moment as Irene turned her attention to the wine list and Jonathan was silent. They put in drink orders, dry soda for Lucas and a Pellegrino for Soren, while Jonathan ordered another vodka tonic and Irene asked about wine pairings for her meal. It gave Lucas a moment to look over the offerings on the menu, and he freed Soren's hand so he could take a look at the specials.

  "So what's new?" Jonathan asked, fixing his intent, ice-chip eyes on Lucas. His eyes were a pale blue, unlike the warm hazel that Lucas had inherited from his mother.

  Soren had blue eyes, though a warmer variety than his father's.

  "Well…Soren and I are new. That's why I hadn't said anything, and…I didn't think you would…" Lucas transferred his gaze to Irene, who looked away.

  When he looked back, Jonathan was frowning.

  "Lucas," he said. "I don't care who you date as long as you continue to live well, and do your best in every aspect of your life."

  It was Lucas's turn to hang his mouth open.

  "Stop gaping. Do you have any idea how many gay people we have in our social circle? It's not a big deal."

  Lucas blinked. Now that his father brought it up, it was true. One of Irene's cousins was gay, and they had several gay couples in their network of friends. Lucas was pretty sure the family lawyer—also a close friend—was gay and happily partnered for years too.

  "I advised Lucas," Irene said delicately. "I thought it would be best if he didn't express his personal preferences over a family dinner."

  Jonathan waved that away with an irritable gesture. "So what if Lucas wants to bring a date to dinner? It's nice to see him actually dating for a change and not just messing around."

  "Um, thanks," Lucas said, dry-mouthed. What else was he supposed to say? He glanced from his father to Irene again, and she gave a small shrug. "You know…I always thought you'd want me to get married, have some kids."

  "Well, that's your assumption. I mean no offense to you, Lucas, I'm glad we had you, but I got married too young, and Jeanette and I had a baby to save the marriage. It didn't work. Neither of us regretted having you, but I'm not exactly the parental type…"

  Lucas looked down at his plate to avoid interrupting his father with a smart-ass wisecrack.

  "And your mother could have stood to wait a few years before having any, herself. I don't care if you have kids, Lucas. It's not all it's cracked up to be. But it's for you to decide, not me," Jonathan pursed his thin mouth and gestured with his highball. "Now let's move on. What else is new?"

  Lucas picked up his water glass, dizzy. He wasn't disowned. His father didn't even care. He was still going to be a hard-ass about most of the things in Lucas's life, but Lucas could deal with that. He turned and looked at Soren—his luminous, gorgeous Soren—and Soren gave him a brief, sparkling grin. You, me, and a bed later tonight, he thought, and maybe it was Lucas's imagination, but Soren seemed to smile wider.

  Their waiter arrived again to take their appetizer and dinner orders, and the evening was on a course for calmer waters.

  "So, Soren, what's your major in school?" Irene asked. She sipped from her wineglass and reclined in her chair, seeming more at ease.

  "English," Soren said, patting Lucas's thigh and reclaiming his hand to unfold the origami-structured planes of his napkin.

  Jonathan gave a brief bark of gruff laughter and Lucas's stomach sank again. "What on earth are you going to do with an English major? Teach?"

  "No idea yet," Soren said cheerfully.

  "Better come up with a plan for that," Jonathan said. His highball had been deftly replaced with a fresh one but he was leaving it on the table, for the most part.

  "Dad." Jonathan had a right to grill him, as Lucas saw it, but not his boyfriend.

  "No, it's all right." Soren leaned forward. "My parents have been on me to do the same thing, figure out what to do with it. I'm confident I'm ready to figure that out for myself, now." He grinned and took his elbows off the table as a server brought their appetizers to the table.

  Lucas looked down at his crab cakes drizzled in garlic-saffron aioli. He was proud of Soren for getting to that point.


  "And how about you, Lucas? Keeping up that GPA?"

  "Yeah," Lucas said, unenthusiastic as he scraped his fork around the plate and toyed with the nearest crab cake.

  "You sound like you're not sure." Jonathan drained his vodka and tonic and set it off to the side; he'd ordered wine pairings for his meal, as well.

  Lucas briefly wondered if his father and Irene had cabbed it here, or whether he'd driven a rental. He'd be told it was none of his business if he asked.

  "I'm getting the grades." Lucas met his father's eyes again. "It's the major I'm not thrilled about."

  "Accounting? A business major is very advantageous…Though I always did say you ought to be a lawyer, given how much you always liked to argue with me."

  Lucas did his best not to roll his eyes, knowing he wasn't very successful. He pushed around a few more bites of appetizer and was surprised when he looked up to see his father giving him a piercing stare.

  "We'll talk about this later," Jonathan said, and waved for a hovering server to come and clear his plate.

  Irene steered the conversation into a discussion of what she and Jonathan were doing over the weekend, the vineyards she planned on visiting, and a lament they wouldn't have time to make a trip out to the coast.

  A great deal of the dinner conversation, what little there was, consisted of Lucas agreeing with his step-mother in syllables: "mm-hmm," "yeah," "great." Beside him, Soren devoted himself to the chicken over linguine that he'd ordered while Lucas dissected his lamb saddle with sunchoke puree and ended up pushing a lot of it around the plate.

  "Dad," Lucas said, when his father had the final glass from his flight of wine halfway downed and everyone was looking over the dessert menu while groaning about their full stomachs.

  "Lucas?" Jonathan set his wine aside with a careful clink.

  "I really do think I should change my major," Lucas said, bracing himself for a fight.

  Jonathan inhaled carefully, picked up his wine and swirled it around until legs clung to the side, and put his head to one side. "Explain."

  "I don't think I can be an accountant."