Action

by Quinn Anderson

  “Raj, you’re the best.”

  Pete’s happiness was temporary, however, because a second later his mom walked back into the room, looking dazed. Evan trailed behind her. Pete caught his eye. He shrugged and then shook his head.

  Uh-oh.

  Mom stopped a few feet away from him and jerked her head toward the other side of the room. “Pete, may I speak to you for a moment?”

  “Okay.” He followed her to the window.

  Raj, bless him, appeared by her side long enough to press a glass of champagne into her hand before disappearing again.

  Mom took a sip and then fixed him in her steady brown gaze. “Do you know what your boyfriend just told me in the kitchen?”

  “Yes.” He shifted his weight from foot to foot. “I’ve known what he does from the start.”

  “And you’re all right with it?”

  “Yes.”

  She looked hard at him. “You don’t think there’s anything morally wrong with it? You don’t think he’s cheating on you every time he’s in one of those—” she made a sour face “—movies?”

  Pete took a deep breath. As many times as he’d rehearsed his answer in his head, it didn’t make it any easier to say out loud. His tongue felt like it was glued to the roof of his mouth. It was the truth, however, and it needed to be said.

  “Honestly, no, I don’t think it’s wrong, and I don’t think it’s cheating.” Pete was shocked by how steady his voice sounded.

  Mom started to interrupt, but he stopped her. “Evan’s job is just a job. It’s how he earns a living. He knows how to separate work from his personal life. I trust him, which is way more important than what he does. And what’s moral or immoral is completely subjective. When I was a kid, being gay was considered immoral. It still is in a lot of places. Hell, being a single parent like you used to be a big scandal.” He shrugged. “Seems silly to cling to an idea of what a relationship should be like instead of enjoying the one I have.”

  He fell silent, scouring his mom’s face for clues as to her reaction. Unfortunately, she had a poker face like no other. Why couldn’t he have inherited that from her?

  If it came down to it, he knew what he had to do. He hoped he’d never have to tell her, but he couldn’t let her judge Evan in front of him. If she rejected Evan, he’d come clean. It might change their relationship forever, but it had to be done. Letting her condemn Evan for the same work he did would make him the worst sort of hypocrite. This was his chance to prove to Evan that he could be strong. And, more importantly, to prove it to himself.

  Mom was excruciatingly silent. At one point, she lifted her glass and took a long drink from it. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and still she didn’t speak.

  Pete cracked like a weak password. “Well?”

  “Well,” she said simply, “I guess that’s that.” She waved to Evan, who had been hovering ten feet away the whole time as if he were attached to an invisible tether. “You can come over now.”

  Evan inched closer. “Am I still invited to the party?” His tone was simultaneously playful and serious.

  “Of course you are. You’re my son’s boyfriend. And your job sounds . . . um, very fascinating. And, uh, lucrative, I imagine.”

  Pete had to hand it to her, she was putting on a good show.

  “It is,” Evan said. He arranged a thousand-watt smile on his face, and Mom instantly smiled back. He was hard to resist when he turned on the charm. “It’s a solid career. There’s very little chance that I’ll ever be out of a job.”

  “That’s true. And with Pete here studying computer science, it sounds like you’re both heading into in-demand fields.”

  Pete looked her up and down. “You’re taking this well.”

  Mom let out a tight breath. “I suppose I can’t cast stones. Not in this glass house. Besides, I raised you to do what you think is right, and it sounds like you’ve done exactly that. You’re an adult. I trust your judgment.”

  “That’s great,” Pete said, relieved. “I was worried you would—” He stopped and replayed her words in his head. “Wait, what about glass houses?”

  She stared at him again, brow scrunched in concentration, like she was trying to read something on his face. Then she sighed. “I suppose you’re old enough now to know. Remember when I told you we didn’t have much growing up? Me and your grandparents and your aunt Caren?”

  “Yeah,” Pete answered. He had the strangest urge to brace himself. Or take a seat. Or both.

  “Well, your grandparents could barely put food on the table, let alone save for college. They managed to set some money aside for Caren, since she was older, but if I wanted to go, I had to pay my own way.”

  Horrific realization dawned on Pete. “Oh God. Are you going to say what I think you’re going to say?”

  She shrugged. “I paid for nursing school by stripping. A couple of the girls I had class with were putting themselves through college that way, and they always had so much cash, I decided to give it a try. It was very empowering.”

  Pete stared blankly into space. “Oh my God, my mom was a stripper.”

  “Hey, I’m not the one who’s dating a porn star.” She clapped him on the back. “Although, now that I think about it, I met your father at the club I worked at. He was a regular. Looks like the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

  You have no idea.

  Pete wrestled with his feelings. “I guess I’m glad you understand, although finding out your mom was a stripper on your birthday in front of all your friends and your new boyfriend seems like one of those things that could traumatize a child.”

  “Don’t worry,” Raj called from across the room. “We totally didn’t hear that. In fact, we couldn’t hear a word you guys said.”

  “This party is off to an interesting start,” Sana said.

  “I am so glad I decided to come!” Joshua squealed, clapping his hands together.

  Sana “accidentally” elbowed him in the ribs.

  Pete would have to remember to get her a World’s Best Boss mug or something. Speaking of which.

  “Someone give me one of my presents,” Pete said. “I’ve just been through an ordeal, and I need alcohol.”

  Sana helpfully supplied him with a plastic cup filled to the brim with whiskey and then raised her water glass. “To Pete!”

  “To Pete!”

  Everyone touched glasses.

  Pete took a big gulp and coughed so hard he had to set it down. “I get the feeling turning twenty-one is going to be my first step toward never drinking.”

  Evan snaked an arm around his waist. “You’re not missing out on much. Though I’d like to take you out drinking sometime. I owe you a legal beer.”

  “I think I can manage that,” Pete agreed, taking another sip from his cup.

  Evan laughed and, after setting his helmet down, took Pete by the hands and tugged him a few feet away from the others. “I got you a present.”

  “Is it more booze?” Pete was already feeling light on his feet. “Because we have a lot of that.”

  “It probably should have been, in keeping with the true spirit of a twenty-first birthday, but—” he pulled a thin package out from behind his back “—I actually got you something else.”

  Pete eyed his skintight outfit. “Where were you keeping that?”

  “Just open it.”

  Pete took the package from him. It had been carefully but somewhat clumsily wrapped in blue paper with a pattern of yellow balloons. It was so adorable and obviously homemade, Pete had to bite his cheek to keep from smiling.

  He ripped the paper off, revealing a simple black and silver picture frame. Inside was the photo of Evan and him from their “date” at Griffith Park. It was as bright and summery as he remembered. He and Evan stood out in sharp relief against the green grass. Evan’s eyes were closed, his lips pressed to Pete’s cheek and his eyelashes a dark, thick smudge. Pete had never seen himself look so happy: giant-eyed, toothy-grinned, se
eping-from-his-pores happy.

  “Wow,” Pete breathed. “This is wonderful.”

  “You like it?” Evan edged closer, craning his neck over Pete’s shoulder.

  “I love it. Although, I don’t know how appropriate it is, considering what we’d just finished doing when this photo was taken.”

  “That’s what I like best about it.” Evan pecked him on the cheek. “Everyone else will look at it and think it’s a normal couple photo. The truth can be our inside joke.”

  “You know, that’s kind of perfect for us. And this is a perfect gift. What made you think of it?”

  “Well . . .” For the first time since Pete met him, Evan turned pink. “I was thinking about that photo of your ex, and I thought, you know, this one could replace that one. And you could keep it on your desk instead of tucked in a drawer. That way, when you’re studying or reading or whatever, I’ll be right there.” He cleared his throat. “Or you know, you can put it wherever you want. That’s just a suggestion.”

  “Why, Mr. Darko, I do believe you’re flustered.”

  Evan pouted. “No, I’m not.”

  “No?”

  “. . . Maybe a little.”

  Pete set the picture down, took Evan’s face in both of his hands, and kissed him. “I love you.”

  Evan’s pout instantly became a smile. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I love you too. Have for a long time.”

  Pete slipped his fingers into the hair on the nape Evan’s neck. “You know, I think your hair was the first thing about you that I loved.”

  “That’s funny, because I remember very distinctly the first time I looked into your eyes and thought, ‘Damn, I want to get to know this guy.’”

  “And I have a similar memory of seeing your eyes in morning light for the first time.”

  “I don’t want to alarm you,” Evan said, edging closer and lowering his voice, “but judging by this conversation, I think there’s a chance that we are really gay for each other.”

  Pete burst out laughing. Evan threw an arm around his shoulders and laughed with him until they were both shaking. The others looked over at them, smiling even though they had no idea what was so funny. Pete wasn’t even embarrassed. Happiness like this was bound to be contagious.

  “So,” Evan said when they’d both recovered, “we have an official couple photo, and I’ve met your mom, and your friends. That pretty much fulfills the traditional aspects of the relationship you said we were missing.”

  “Screw tradition,” Pete said vehemently. “Let’s do this all out of order. Backward and upside down and in whatever way we want. As long as we’re doing it together. Right, Evan Darko?”

  A smile swept over Evan’s handsome face, and Pete thought that he’d never seen anything so beautiful. “It would be my pleasure, Pete Griflow.”

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  In Excess

  Murmur Inc. Series

  Hotline

  Quinn Anderson is an alumna of the University of Dublin in Ireland and has a master’s degree in psychology. She wrote her dissertation on sexuality in popular literature and continues to explore evolving themes in erotica in her professional life.

  A nerd extraordinaire, she was raised on an unhealthy diet of video games, anime, pop culture, and comics from infancy. She stays true to her nerd roots in writing and in life, and frequently draws inspiration from her many fandoms, which include Sherlock, Harry Potter, Supernatural, Lord of the Rings, Star Wars, Buffy, Marvel, and more. You will often find her interacting with fellow fans online and offline via conventions and Tumblr, and she is happy to talk about anything from nerd life to writing tips. She has attended conventions on three separate continents and now considers herself a career geek. She advises anyone who attends pop culture events in the UK to watch out for Weeping Angels, as they are everywhere.

  Her favorite television show is Avatar: the Last Airbender, her favorite film is Tangled, and her favorite book is Ella Enchanted. She can often be spotted at conventions, comic shops, and midnight book releases. If you’re at an event, and you see a 6’2” redhead wandering around with a vague look on her face, that’s probably her. Her favorite authors include J.K. Rowling, Gail Carson Levine, Libba Bray, and Tamora Pierce. When she’s not writing, she enjoys traveling, cooking, spending too much time on the internet, screwing the rules, finding the Master Sword, guided falling, consulting for the NYPD, guarding the galaxy, boldly going, and catching ’em all.

  Connect with Quinn:

  Facebook: facebook.com/AuthorQuinnAnderson

  Tumblr: quinnandersonwrites.tumblr.com

  Email: quinnandersonwrites@gmail.com

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