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The Quarterback's Crush

Page 16

by John R. Petrie


  “Look at you,” he said. “You’re a grown-up.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Jeez, Dad. It’s just a dance.”

  He nodded and took a couple of pictures on his phone. “I know, Dylan.” He came up to me and started to straighten my tie. “Listen,” he hesitated. “I know you’re eighteen, and I know Tommy is eighteen, and I know you’re both old enough to make your own decisions, but can I say something important?”

  I could feel my shoulders slump. “Dad, I’m gay. There’s no way around it. I get that maybe it’s not what you wanted, but—”

  “What? No, Dylan. That’s not it at all. Just… just don’t have sex,” he blurted out.

  “Oh God! Dad!” My whole face was on fire and I figured you could see how red I was from space.

  “Just hear me out, Dylan.” He crossed his arms across his chest and tried to look stern. “I’m your father, and this is a conversation we should be having sooner, rather than later.”

  I started coughing, and he started talking faster and faster. “You’re not ready yet, and I know you may think you are, but I can tell you, it’s a big deal. I understand that things happen and teens get carried away, but I want you to understand that sex is very special and very precious. Your first time should be with someone you know well and have dated for a long time. And, frankly, I don’t think you know Tommy well enough to do it yet.”

  “Oh, man. Seriously!” I turned away and covered my ears. “I don’t want to talk to you about this. Dad, we’ve barely kissed. We haven’t even talked about sex yet!”

  “I’m sorry, Dylan,” Dad said, pulling my hands away from my ears. “I know you don’t want to talk about it, but we have to talk about sex at some point.”

  “No. We don’t. Not ever. Not even when I’m old and married and you have grandkids. We’re never going to talk about sex.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “Kids? You want to have children? How would that work? Adoption? Surrogacy?”

  The doorbell rang, and I started running down the stairs, so happy that he was distracted. “I’ll get it! Please don’t embarrass me,” I called out over my shoulder.

  “I’ll be right down,” he called out. “Bathroom! Don’t leave without me taking some pictures!”

  Ignoring him, I yanked the door open and Tommy stood there, with his mom behind him. She looked a lot like him. She was short and skinny and had a small dimple in her right cheek, which I only saw because she was smiling.

  “You must be Dylan.” Her voice was soft, like his. Quiet and gentle. “I’m Tommy’s mother. It’s very nice to meet you.”

  “Hi, Mrs. Peterson. It’s very nice to meet you too.” I shook her hand quickly. “Would you like to come in and meet my dad? He’s upstairs. He’ll be right down.”

  “I left the car running. Why don’t we invite you and your father to our house next weekend? Do you have plans on Saturday?”

  “No, ma’am. Not that I know of.” I smiled carefully and shuffled my feet back and forth. Dinner with Tommy’s dad. Yay.

  “Well, I’ll phone early next week, and we’ll make a plan. How does that sound?”

  “Great.”

  She smiled at me and leaned down to kiss Tommy carefully on the cheek. “Let me take a quick picture with the two of you.”

  “Mom,” Tommy whined a little, sounding like some sitcom teen. It made me smile.

  “Oh, hush, you. Dylan doesn’t mind, do you, Dylan?”

  “No, ma’am.” We posed in the front doorway, and she took a picture with her phone. She waved and headed back to the car. I closed the door behind her and looked at Tommy.

  “Sorry,” Tommy mumbled. “Parents.”

  “I know.” I leaned down. “My dad tried to talk to me about sex while I was getting ready.”

  He shook his head. “We’ve barely even kissed.”

  “I know, right?” He had something in his hand that I hadn’t seen, and he held it out to me. “What’s that?”

  “It’s a rose. For the buttonhole on your lapel. I have one.” He showed me the red rose on his chest, and he reached up to put mine on me. “There.”

  “How does it look?” I posed in front of him, holding my hands out to the side.

  He scrutinized me for a second. “It looks perfect.”

  I reached out and ran my hand down his arm. “Yeah. That’s my view too.” I looked up the stairs and knew Dad would be coming down any second. “Come here.” I pulled open the front door, and we went outside. I closed the door and leaned down, kissing Tommy. His arms went around my neck, and I held him close. We kissed for a few minutes before I heard my dad coming down the stairs. I leaned down for one more kiss. “I love you, Tommy.”

  He smiled at me. “You too, Dylan. Always have and always will.”

  I kissed him again. “Perfect.”

  HOW IT ALL ENDED (AND SOME STUFF ABOUT THE MIDDLE TOO)

  “TELL IT again! Tell it again!” The five-year-old bouncing on my lap started laughing, which made me laugh too.

  “Hey, Tiger,” Riley said, pulling his son from my lap. “Why don’t we let Uncle Dylan and Uncle Tommy relax a little bit? They traveled a long way today, and they have to get over to Grampa Porter’s house soon.”

  “Awww, Dad!” Riley Jr. wiggled around until Riley did his stern voice.

  “RJ. Don’t sass me.” Riley turned to us, grabbing his beer off the table, keeping RJ in the other hand. “You know how my mom always used to say I’d get a kid just like me? Her curse worked.”

  “That’s not so bad, Riley. I suppose you turned out… decent.” Tommy shook his head when Riley plopped down on the couch, shifting RJ to his lap.

  “Don’t make me give you a wedgie, nerd.” They clinked bottles and started talking about work.

  So, things turned out pretty good all around. Tommy and I went to schools that were close enough to each other that we could see each other on the weekends, and if we timed our classes right, once a week. By the time senior year rolled around, we’d weathered the hardest stuff. Like distance. And Hank Blake. Ugh. It’s a long story, but, let’s just say I thought I might lose Tommy to Hank. I actually did for a little while. It was hard when we got back together, confusing. Almost like starting all over again. And we were also the busiest we’d ever been. Tommy was working full-time as a science teacher, and I’d graduated but was back in school. Cooking school this time. By the time I opened my own restaurant, we’d figured out that we didn’t want to be apart. It took us time to build up that trust again, but I never fell out of love with the shy boy who had the cute dimple, and he was able to forgive the stupid things I’d done that had driven him into Hank’s arms in the first place. (It’s a long story. Remind me to tell you one day.)

  The restaurant was running smoothly enough that when the ten-year reunion rolled around, we decided to make a real vacation of the trip. We’d stay with my dad, but our first stop was to see our godchild, RJ, and catch up with Riley and his wife. I looked over at my best friend and my boyfriend and decided it was time. There wouldn’t ever be a more perfect moment.

  “Hey, guys?”

  “What’s up, Dyl?” Riley arched an eyebrow. He knew what I was going to do, but not when. He had that weird Riley smile, and I knew he was onto me.

  I stood up, reached into my pocket, and walked over to Tommy. I could see him put his beer down and look at me, wondering what was going on. Riley pulled out his phone and started videoing so he could show Janine, his wife. She worked nights, so she’d see it tomorrow. I got down on one knee and pulled out a plain silver ring. “Tommy Peterson, after everything we’ve been through, I can’t think of any man I’d rather fall asleep with and wake up next to. I love you, Tommy. Will you marry me?”

  He started crying, only a little, and held out his hand. “Dylan Porter, I would marry you any time, any place, anywhere. I love you. Always have, always will.” I slipped the ring on his hand and stood up.

  Riley started clapping. And RJ was clapping, and he started bouncing up a
nd down again. “Kiss! Kiss!”

  “Well,” Tommy said, smiling up at me. “You heard the kid. We can’t refuse that request.”

  And we kissed. Yeah, it was pretty perfect.

  JOHN PETRIE grew up in Boston and now lives in the Bronx, NY. Almost his entire working career has been spent around books, from his first job in the town library to more than twenty years bookselling in one of the biggest bookstores in the US. He’s also worked for the Housing Works thrift stores in NYC, which provides services for the homeless and HIV communities, as well as a comic book publisher.

  He’s had stories published in True Romance magazine, had a play he wrote produced at his college, acted, danced, and was nominated for an acting award playing Belize in Angels in America.

  He stays up too late, eats too much junk food, and has been reading Wonder Woman comics for over forty years.

  He is very, very happy to have his debut novel published by Harmony Ink Press. He hopes to continue writing stories which make people smile.

  He can be reached at johnrpetriewrites@gmail.com and looks forward to hearing from readers and writers.

  By John R. Petrie

  The Quarterback’s Crush

  Published by HARMONY INK PRESS

  www.harmonyinkpress.com

  Published by

  HARMONY INK PRESS

  5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886 USA

  publisher@harmonyinkpress.com • harmonyinkpress.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of author imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The Quarterback’s Crush

  © 2018 John R. Petrie.

  Cover Art

  © 2018 Adrian Nicholas.

  adrian.nicholas177@gmail.com

  Cover content is for illustrative purposes only and any person depicted on the cover is a model.

  All rights reserved. This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of international copyright law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines, and/or imprisonment. Any eBook format cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Harmony Ink Press, 5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886, USA, or publisher@harmonyinkpress.com.

  Digital ISBN: 978-1-64080-390-9

  Trade Paperback ISBN: 978-1-64080-391-6

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2018900249

  Digital published September 2018

  v. 1.0

  Printed in the United States of America

 

 

 


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