“Hey,” I said gruffly. “You’re sweet and funny, and you’re clearly pretty infatuated with me. They’ll like you.”
“But—”
“No buts, Bravo. Not until everyone leaves, and you spend a few hours playing with mine.”
Adrián’s nostrils flared. He dragged his teeth over his lower lip, eyelids growing heavy, and dick swelling as I pressed against it.
“I can dig you out real quick. Right now.”
“Nah.”
He reversed our positions, competitive spirit flaring with a feral smile, and backed me up against the wall. “Come on. Let me hit it before your fam arrives and sends me running.”
I snorted and bucked my hips against his. “You being a baby about this ain’t really stirring my arousal.”
“I bet this big dick is, though.”
Laughter boomed out of me before I could help it, but Adrián was a good sport. He just kept grinning and rubbing all up on me, trying to woo me away from my self-control because he knew what a thirstbucket I was for his pipe game.
“You nasty little bastard.”
“Little?”
I laughed harder and shoved my way past him. He made a mournful puppy sound and pressed himself to my back, squeezing and burying his face in my neck with a deep inhale. Resisting him was futile. Or it seemed that way until my security system went off, indicating someone at the gate.
Adrián scowled. “I’m really gonna go call my parents this time.”
“Uh-huh. You better not stay up there.”
“I won’t.”
He didn’t sound convincing, but he’d been too worried about meeting my mother to bail out on her. I hoped, anyway.
After watching his cute ass for a few seconds, I buzzed the gate and met my mother at the door. Her face broke into a huge smile when she saw me, and I grabbed her up in a huge bear hug.
“Simeon, do not pick me up, child.”
“Sorry, Mama.”
I set her down, still smiling so hard my face hurt. She was stunning as always. Black hair in a shorter, sharper style than I remembered, and wearing a black and silver dress, heels, and a huge furry scarf over her leather jacket. Thank Lord I’d convinced Adrián to change.
“You look great.”
“Thank you, honey,” she said, walking inside while carefully unwrapping her scarf. “Where’s that boy of yours?”
“Making a phone call.”
She swung around to pin me with a side eye. “Now? He knew I was coming, didn’t he?”
Oh shit. Just what they needed. An already insulted Mama Boudreaux.
“I don’t think he knew the exact time. He’s calling his mom.”
“Uh-huh.” Joanne Boudreaux, queen of trash talk and skeptical tones. “Mmm. Well, tell him to get his self down here and make sure he’s dressed right. I don’t want to see any tennis shoes at the table.”
“I already told him, Mama.”
“Good. Marcus, Jasmine, and the boys will be here in a minute.”
“How do you know?” I asked, following her across the entry hall. “I haven’t spoken to him all day.”
“Marcus sent me a text.”
I should have known. Marcus loved being a second son.
“All right, but you need to be nice to Adrián,” I cautioned. “He’s scared as hell of messing up in front of you.”
“He should be, after talking all that social media mess. You know I will not hesitate to give him the business if I need to.” She hung her scarf and jacket on the coatrack and clacked across the room towards the kitchen. “Are you cooking already? It best not be catered, boy. I will buy my own groceries and cook my own meals.”
And she damn sure would, even after a long flight in high heels, so I wasn’t going to fight this battle. “There’s enough for you to do if you’re so set on it. But Adrián is already making a pork shoulder. Should be ready to come out.”
She went from skeptical to impressed while skeptical, which was an upgrade. I grinned and jogged up the stairs to find my wayward . . . whatever he was. Man? It sounded too permanent, considering we hadn’t yet put a label on our relationship, but I was pretty sure it fit. And I was pretty sure we were permanent, given the idle murmurings about him really liking my house. I liked it too. Even better if he was in it more often. Especially since Marcus was fixing to move out once he and Jasmine got married this summer.
“Knock, knock,” I said, opening my bedroom door. “Are you—”
Adrián wasn’t exactly as I’d expected to find him. Instead of pacing while he spoke, as was his usual MO, he was sitting in the corner with his knees up and his head tilted against the wall. One hand gripped the phone while the other balled into a fist.
Concern shot through me. I wondered if I should leave, but one glance at his tight mouth and narrowed eyes prompted me to sit next to him on the floor.
“Yeah,” he said flatly into the phone. “I get it.”
“What’s going on?” I murmured.
Adrián’s jaw clenched. He put his phone on speaker so I could hear the conversation.
“—not that I don’t support you, mijo. I love you, and I saw this coming. I did. The way you always talked about Simeon—”
Holy shit, he’d come out to her. My heart seized. I grabbed his hand and brought it to my lips.
“—I knew there was something there. Some obsession or fixation, whatever you want to call it. And you know it doesn’t matter to me, you can’t help who you want to be with.”
“I can’t,” he said in the same dull voice. “And I do want to be with him. I want to live with him.”
He raised his eyes to meet my own as he said it. There was misery there, real unhappiness, but a defiance aimed at me as well. Daring me to reject his declaration. And his invitation to my house. He was such a punk. Even while being a sweetheart. I smiled against his hand and felt the fist loosen.
“Adrián . . .” A warning edge crept into her tone, one I knew well from my own mother. “How will you keep this a secret if you’re living with him?”
“I dunno, but I’m not waiting until I retire to shack up with him. Unless he doesn’t want me shacking up with him.”
I bit his knuckles. He cracked the tiniest smile.
“So, you’re saying to me that your reputation no longer matters? Your father’s feelings?”
Ah-ha. And here the bullshit was. The reason he was coiled and ready to snap despite her appearing to be overall accepting of his queerness. It was okay as long as it was hidden. Discreet.
“I’m supposed to ignore my own happiness and sneak around forever just to spare his feelings?” Adrián demanded. “Let’s say we did wait until I retire. Fine. But Dad would still find out after that. Or you thought I’d keep Simeon a secret until I fucking die?”
“Shhh,” I murmured, pressing closer to him.
“Nah, fuck this.” Adrián slammed his fist back against the wall. “This is bullshit. Just because Simeon’s a man—”
“Do you not understand your father will die of a heart attack?”
“So, I’m supposed to die of fucking heartbreak? Pretend I have no one in my life or that I have no family, because you can be damn sure I’m spending my holidays with him. Not you evil people.”
She scoffed and sounded so much like my mother it was eerie. “Don’t be dramatic.”
“I’m saying, though! How come I get to meet his mother, and he can never meet mine?”
Heavy silence followed his plaintive question. I pressed my face to his neck, trying to soothe away the anger I could feel building inside him and wanting him to know he had me, my family, my friends.
“Ay dios . . .” A gusty sigh broke through the line. “Okay, querido. Let me speak to your father.”
Adrián sagged against me, a big muscular marionette whose strin
gs had been cut. “Thanks, Mami. I love you.”
“I love you too, Adrián.” A pause. “And I support your relationship with my son, Simeon.”
I sat up straight. “Sorry, Mrs. Bravo. I swear I just walked in a few seconds ago.”
“Mmhm. In any case, thank you for forgiving his behavior. We didn’t raise him to be a bully.”
“I’m sure you didn’t, Mrs. Bravo.”
Adrián’s jaw dropped. “Geez. Already bonding over my bad behavior.”
I nudged him and kept talking. “Also, I know it won’t be easy for your family. My own had . . . a rough time when I came out. So, if you ever want to talk to anyone . . .” Volunteering my mother to be someone’s queer mom counselor was suicide, but I rushed out, “Maybe you could reach out to my mother?”
“Maybe I’ll do that. Thank you for the suggestion. You’re much sweeter than my troublemaker deserves.”
“Wow,” Adrián muttered. “Already you’re the favorite.”
We laughed and hung up after she said her farewell. Adrián went slack against me, his big body weighing me down until we thumped against the carpet all wound together.
“Ugh, that was awful.”
“She seemed supportive. I don’t know about your father, though.”
“My father will probably ice me out. No lie.”
My instinct was to object for no reason other than to soothe him, but I didn’t. He was probably right, at least for a few years. If I judged by the reactions of some of the men, and the more religious people, in my own family, people tended to act betrayed to find out they share blood with a queer. Like it would infect them. Or worse, that we’d somehow tricked them into thinking we were normal. It was really telling how some people viewed us as subhuman.
“Your father seems like an ass, anyway.”
“True.” Adrián sighed against the side of my face. “I’m glad you were here.”
“So you could indirectly declare your love for me?”
“Heh. Yeah, that too. So, am I moving in or what? I could fuck with a bowling alley and an Olympic pool and blowjobs every morning.”
The laugh that rushed out of me was full of relief and incredulity. He was so ridiculous. So fucking absurd. And I loved him. I absolutely loved him. It didn’t even matter that I’d hated him not even three months ago. What mattered now is that it was hard to sleep without him in my bed, and the very idea of moving on without him had the capacity to tear apart my heart.
“So, you’re just in it for the dick-sucking?”
“And the ass-fucking.”
I bit his ear, eliciting a low moan instead of a pained yelp. “I want you to move in, but not now. After the Super Bowl.”
“Duh. No one was trying to pack boxes between games every week.”
“I like how this is turning into the most unromantic chain of events ever.”
“Simeon, we started fucking as a dare. We’re not romantic.”
I bit him again, relishing the way my linebacker, the one who was on his way to bypassing NFL records for most sacks and interceptions, reacted to such a minor touch. Maybe I’d use it against him on the field when our teams played next week.
“I dunno. You’re kind of romantic. After you come out, I think I’m going to write a big ole Facebook post about how sweet you are on the downlow.”
Adrián, of course, loved this idea. “Bet. I’ll pose for selfies being cute as fuck. Turn it into a book and make bank.”
“Lord Jesus. Forget it. You ruined it.”
I got to my feet. He smacked my ass.
“Come on. My mom is about to flip when she sees I bought stuffing from some restaurant on Long Island, and I’ll have to talk her down by telling her I saved the giblets and drippings for gravy.”
“What about the rest of your crew?”
The door beeped to signal Marcus’s arrival with Jasmine, Noah, and Gavin. Adrián groaned again, louder, and I knew it was at the thought of eating a meal while Gavin Brawley gave him the ice grill all night. Thankfully, Noah had promised to run interception.
“You ready?”
Adrián sighed tragically and checked himself in the mirror, running a hand over his shaved face and then adjusting his clothes. He claimed to not want to be around anyone, but everything he was doing made it quite clear that he wanted to make a good impression.
“Ready.”
I nodded, watching him start for the door. At the last moment, I pressed myself to his back and whispered in his ear, “I love you, Bravo.”
He turned for a kiss at the side of my mouth. “I know.”
Completely unsurprised, I pushed him out the door.
Adrián
There were more than eight people attending this post-Thanksgiving shindig, and I felt betrayed.
Jasmine, Marcus Hendricks’s ridiculously gorgeous fiancée, and the giant rock on her finger, had brought along her parents. And Noah, Gavin Brawley’s boyfriend, who looked kind of like a school teacher who would get really dirty once he took off his glasses and tie, had brought his dad. There was also a child present. If I went by the black curls and huge brown eyes, he had to be related to Jasmine. I had no idea what his name was, because as Joanne Boudreaux made all the necessary introductions, I blanked out. Half because of nerves and half because Gavin was still looking at me like he wanted to break my neck.
Or maybe that was just his face.
“I’m Adrián,” I added pointlessly, when she was done.
“We know who you are, baby,” Joanne said.
I know she probably wasn’t trying to make me feel like an asshole, but my face burned anyway. Simeon thankfully didn’t come to my rescue, and went about collecting all the dishes everyone had brought over. It was a good distraction mostly because I felt like I’d gotten over on everyone by roasting a big-ass pernil even though I could legit eat the entire thing by myself.
“Not a green-bean casserole in sight,” Simeon said, nodding his approval at Noah and Gavin. “Good job, y’all.”
“I don’t even know what that is,” Gavin said flatly. “I’m not a holiday person.”
“You weren’t one,” Noah said. “Holidays with me are the best. Me and my dad—”
“Eat Entenmann’s pies,” Jasmine filled in. “And watch the parade on mute.”
She and Noah glared at each other before they snickered. I had no idea what they were talking about, so I pulled at my collar and counted the seconds until everyone either filed into the kitchen or the theater to watch TV.
Judging from the easy chatter, everyone was acquainted with each other. The best course of action was to pick the group I needed to impress the most and stick by them, so I followed Simeon, his mom, Jasmine, and her mother, Yvette, to the kitchen rather than follow the guys to watch football.
“Oh man,” Jasmine moaned, practically floating to the counter where someone had set the pernil. “What delightful creature made this?”
“Adrián did,” Simeon said, grinning all proud-like. “I didn’t know he could cook until today when he started tearing it down in the kitchen.”
“I have a whole bag of tricks I haven’t shown you yet,” I said with a wink.
“Like not being a dickhead on social media?”
Gavin had come in behind us and muttered the comment, but it still cracked through the room like a gunshot. I set my jaw and looked back at him, wanting really badly to talk shit to him, but faltered when he just smirked.
“Young man, this is not the day to start all that fussin’,” Joanne said before anyone could get a word in. “And I won’t have you using that language either.”
Gavin, broad as me in a charcoal button-down that had to have been tailored for his biceps, shrugged. “Sorry.”
He sounded the exact opposite of sorry. Joanne pinned him with a stern glare before nodding towards the door.
“Why don’t you all go to the theater? There’s beer, lemonade, cool drinks, and wine.”
If Jasmine and Yvette seemed reluctant to go, Simeon was outright defiant. He crossed his arms over his chest, brow furrowed, and stared at his mother.
“Mama.”
“Uh-uh. You too.”
My heart jolted, and I looked at Simeon with panic. She caught my expression and pursed her lips.
“I will not bite you, child.”
“I don’t think you will, ma’am, but I already had it with my own mother today so . . .”
“He came out to her,” Simeon said helpfully. “Uh, and I sorta said maybe you could be her mom-of-a-queer-athlete life coach. Sorry.”
To my surprise, Joanne just nodded. “That’s fine. I’m pretty sure I have her number.”
“Why do you . . .”
She cut me off with a wave of her hand and seamlessly transitioned to shooing Simeon out of the kitchen. “We’ll call you if we need you, Simeon. Now go talk to Gavin before I do.”
Simeon glanced between her and the door, and seemed to decide that having words with his besties was more pertinent than rescuing me from his mother. It was the right choice, especially since Gavin’s way of looking at me made me want to pop off and smack the shit out of him.
“Gavin won’t let up for a while,” Joanne said once her son left the kitchen. “Learn to take it in stride. I love that boy like he were my own blood, but he is damn hardheaded when he’s being overprotective.”
“I’m not gonna hurt Simeon,” I said. “I know I messed up—”
“Yes indeed.”
My stomach tied up in a knot, and I ran my hands through my hair. “I don’t know what to say to convince anyone. This whole thing was probably a bad idea.”
Joanne arched an eyebrow and crossed her arms over her chest. “Looky here, Adrián, it’s not every day my son wants me to meet someone he’s seeing. So, this is a special occasion, yeah?”
“I mean, I guess . . .”
“No guessing. It is.” She inhaled slowly, lips pursing again. “I love my son, but his judgment isn’t always what it should be. He is talented and sweet and handsome, but he can also be a damn fool. Especially nowadays when he should know his every action will end up in the spotlight, and he still makes silly mistakes.”
Down by Contact Page 19