“Right now, it’s bad. But I think in the long run, it will be good. Maybe she’ll finally start living her own life now. I don’t want you to worry about it. This is the last year we have with you until you go off to college, and I just want you to be happy. It breaks my heart that you’ve had to keep this to yourself.” He pauses and looks at me, like really looks at me. The look on his face is tortured. “How long have you known, Jay?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know… a long time, I guess.”
“Did you ever think about talking to us about it?”
“Not really. Until yesterday, I really had no intention of ever telling anyone in this town.”
“I should have done a better job of talking to you about things—important things. I should have made it clear that you could tell me anything and that I would always love you and have your back.”
“Dad, it’s not your fault. I do feel like I can talk to you about anything. Just not that. I wasn’t ready to admit it to myself much less talk to anyone about it.”
“But if we hadn’t built your life the way we did… if we had stayed in the city… if your mom didn’t have this irrational fear… if we had been open and honest with you about Grandpa….”
“Dad, stop. My life has been great. This town is actually pretty great.” I smile, thinking about the things Brighton showed me yesterday. “And Brighton lives here.”
My dad smiles at that. “He’s Max Bello-Adler’s son, right?”
“Yeah. You know him?”
“Sure. His company set up all the computer stuff when we built the new offices.”
“Computer stuff?” I laugh.
“Not my area of expertise.”
“Clearly.”
He smiles. “I have a lot of respect for him. I admired the way he talked about his family—Brighton specifically. He really loves that kid, and he had no reservations telling me that he was gay. It wasn’t even an issue. You were dating Colette then, and I was sharing my concerns about, well, the fact that I didn’t particularly like how she treated people, and he told me about Brighton’s boyfriend and how he felt the same way.”
I smile at that. Max didn’t like Harrison. “Wait, you didn’t like Colette?”
“God, no. Did you?”
I laugh. “No, not really.”
“Anyway, we had a very long conversation about our two boys and their dating lives and it was such a breath of fresh air, being around someone so open-minded and accepting. It just made me feel good about humanity as a whole.”
“Yeah,” I agree. “They’re all kind of like that.”
“He’s a good-looking kid. And the mom, Michelle?”
“I think she goes by Mickey.”
“Right. Anyway, I can see where he got his looks from.”
God, am I really doing this? Talking to my dad about how hot Brighton is? Yeah, I think I am. I think I want to. “He is pretty good-looking, and he’s just an awesome person in general.”
“So you like him?” he asks with a huge smile.
I can’t help but smile back. “Yeah.”
“Is he your boyfriend?”
“I don’t know. I guess we haven’t talked about that. I mean, our relationship started yesterday.”
“So he’s more than a friend?”
“Yeah. Way more.”
“That talk we had a few years ago about condoms… it still applies. You know that, right?”
“Oh my God. Dad, please, can we not?” I think I’m more freaked out about me having sex with a guy than my dad is. Which is so strange.
“At least you won’t be getting anyone pregnant.”
“Okay. You have to stop. Now.”
He laughs. “I would like to meet him.”
“Ha. You don’t think I’m actually gonna bring him in this house, do you?”
“I would hope so.”
“No. I don’t want him to be murdered by Mom’s death glare or Ty’s knives or whatever his preferred method of killing is.”
“He’s got soccer this afternoon. I think I’ll let Mom take him. Brighton could come over for a few hours then.”
I smile at his excitement, but then it disappears when I realize I literally can’t have him here. Not with all the hate in this house. “What’s up with Ty? Is he doing any better with all of this?”
My dad shakes his head. “Can I be honest with you?”
“No, Dad, please lie to me.”
He smirks at me. “Hearing the hate and anger and stupidity coming out of his mouth last night… it broke my heart. He’s always been attached to Mom. She’s always been the one he’s willing to talk to, and I respect that. I usually let her take the reins with him, but now I wish I would have been more involved. The things he said… I’ve heard them all before.” He lets out a long breath and shakes his head. I hate that he’s feeling so much regret this morning. I wish I could fix everything for him.
“I would like to talk to him.”
“I think that’s a good idea. He’s grounded for the next two weeks, so it shouldn’t be hard to track him down.”
“Okay. I’m gonna get a shower, and then I’ll give it a go.” I clasp his shoulder and then stand.
He stands too and gives me a hug. “Don’t take what they say to you personally. It’s not about you. You get that, right?”
“Yeah, I get that now. Thanks for explaining it to me. And thanks for having my back.”
“Always. I love you, son.”
“I love you too, Dad.”
Chapter Eighteen
Brighton
JAY’S ONLY been gone for two hours, but it seems like it’s been days. Yeah, I miss the kid. It’s stupid. But I mean, how can I not?
Everything changed yesterday. Every component of my life and myself was altered to make room for him. I know I’m probably just in that phase of falling for someone where everything is new and exciting and you can’t think of anything else, but it feels like more than that. It feels way more serious than that.
I’m dying, sitting here waiting to hear from him, wondering how he’s doing and what’s going on with his family. The doubts I had yesterday that he was gonna have the moment are completely gone. That’s not happening. But I wonder what kind of hell he’s going through without me.
“You have to relax,” my dad tells me after I pick up my phone once again, just in case the ringer isn’t working. I’ve never given a shit about my phone, but now it feels like my damn lifeline. What’s taking him so long to call? Or shoot me a text? “No news is probably good news right now. If he had gone home and things were bad, they would have fought, and he would have gone up to his room, slammed his door, and called you to vent.”
“Wow, that’s a pretty specific scenario.” I laugh.
“I know I’m cool as a cucumber over here, but I’m worried about him too. I figure it’s taking him so long because he’s actually talking to his family. They’re working things out.”
Dad apparently knows Tom pretty well. He keeps assuring me he’s a good guy and that he loves Jay a lot and will accept him no matter what. Which is pretty much what Jay said about him. And from the phone call last night, it seemed like his dad was being cool, but his mom and brother… a totally different story.
“Hopefully,” I tell my dad, plugging another cable into our synth…. And then my phone rings.
“Is it him?” Dad asks.
I pick it up and see his name. “Yeah.” I answer it while heading toward my room. “Jay?”
“Hi,” he says, and just from that one word I can tell he’s okay.
“How’s it going?”
He laughs, another good sign. “Good, I guess. I mean, not all of it, but I have some crazy shit to tell you.”
“Let’s hear it.”
“Actually, my dad was wondering if you wanted to come hang out for a little while. He really wants to meet you, and Mom and Ty are leaving for soccer in twenty minutes.”
“Oh, okay.” I totally wasn’t expecting th
at. “Should I be scared?”
“Naw. He’s beyond cool with the situation, but I mean, if you don’t escape before Mom and Ty get home, you might want to consider the fear option.”
I smile at that. His dad is beyond cool. I guess my dad was right. “I’ll risk it. For you. I miss you already.”
He lets out a breathy laugh. “Awesome, because I was starting to feel a little crazy like an obsessed stalker or something. I need to see you.”
“So, twenty minutes?”
“Probably more like nineteen now. If the minivan’s gone from the driveway, you’re good.”
“Text me your address. I’ll park down the street—just to be safe.”
“All right. See you soon.”
As I hang up the phone, I’m smiling like an idiot, but the fear’s there too… the fear over what I’m about to walk into. And the fear that I’m willing to do just about anything for this kid.
AS I walk into Jay’s room, I can’t help but smile. “It looks exactly how I thought it would,” I tell him, looking around the clean, crisp, well-organized, preppy bedroom.
“You spend a lot of time thinking about what my bedroom looks like?” he says, wagging his eyebrows at me.
“Since you left me? Yeah, I have been. I thought I’d have to wait a little longer to actually see it, though. That shit you and your dad just told me is crazy. What’s up with that?”
I just spent over an hour getting to know Jay’s dad. Beyond cool was the correct phrase to describe him. There was absolutely zero awkwardness even when we brushed on the fact that Jay and I are more than friends. And when they told me about Jay’s mom and her dad, and I couldn’t stop myself from reaching over and grabbing on to Jay’s hand. Jay didn’t flinch and Tom didn’t even seem to notice.
But, Jesus, that story was horrendous. I don’t want to tell Jay what I’ve been thinking, which is, She’s never going to be okay with this. The good thing is my other constant thought is, At least Jay has his dad. At least he’s not alone in this house.
He plops down on a small sofa because, yes, his room is gigantic and there is a sofa facing a large screen TV that’s mounted to the wall. I join him, sitting close enough that my splayed out leg is touching his but not so close that I’m tempted to do anything besides listen to him.
“It’s crazy, Brighton. I had no idea.” He laughs and shakes his head like it’s still unbelievable to him.
“Have you talked to her?”
“Naw. She won’t even look at me.” And then I see it—for the first time since I showed up; he looks devastated.
I reach over and grab ahold of his leg. “I’m sorry.”
He shrugs. “It’s okay. She’s gonna have to talk to me about it eventually. And I think I got somewhere with Ty. I mean, he’s totally disgusted by me, but it was the first time we’ve really talked in years. I told him about Len, and I think it kind of sunk in. I mean, I think he kind of gets that our mom is being a little irrational.
“Then he showed me his Facebook page and all the shit people are posting on there about me. I was expecting him to be all ‘you ruined my life,’ but instead he was like ‘I’m gonna kick their asses.’” He shakes his head and laughs. “I could feel the bond between us—the whole brotherhood thing, you know. And I wasn’t expecting that. I think it was good.”
“If you guys can talk about it and work it out together, that’ll be good. For all of you.”
“Yeah. I think you might be right.” He lets out a long breath and relaxes into the couch.
I relax too, and then I look around his room. I wasn’t kidding—it looks exactly how I thought it would: all cream and navy blue, shelves of trophies and medals, a brand-new computer sitting on a well-organized mahogany desk, books lined up neatly on a matching bookshelf, professionally framed pictures of stadiums and jerseys and signed balls hanging on the walls. “So how much of this is you?” I ask him.
He lets out a huffy laugh as his gaze roams the room. “Yesterday I was kind of thinking none of it, you know? But before yesterday I had myself convinced that I couldn’t be myself and also be gay… that the two things could never coexist. But I think I was wrong. I mean, I hope I was wrong because I don’t have the mental strength to change one more thing about my life right now.” He pauses, his eyes focused on the corner of his room. “Actually, most of those books on that shelf. I hate them all.”
I narrow my eyes and am able to recognize a few male thriller authors. “But you read them?”
“Yeah, I have. I don’t know. Now that I know where my mom’s coming from—the lengths she’s gone to create an environment where I would turn out straight—I guess a lot of this stuff feels like props. I mean, she’s the one who put all this stuff in my room—including the books. It all feels contrived now. I’ve accepted the fact that I really do love playing sports—that it is a huge part of who I am….” He pauses and glances around his room. “But shit… it’s seriously like a recipe for manliness in here. Even those games.” He nods at his video game setup. “I guess if I think too hard, I could start doubting every moment of my life. I guess I could pick it apart and see how everything has been planned and plotted. I guess I could go back and think about the choices I would have made if my mom wasn’t making them for me. I guess I could start feeling, again, like I’m not who I think I am.”
“Don’t do that,” I tell him.
“I’m trying really hard not to.”
I lie back and pull him into my arms. “You know who you are, Jay. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t have had the courage to do the things you’ve been doing.”
“I do know who I am. And all of this is part of me, but there’s more to me. There are things inside of me that aren’t part of this room. That aren’t part of my life yet.”
“You want to get rid of some of this stuff, you know, so you can make room for the other parts?”
He peeks up at me and a cute smile comes over his face. He leans in and gives me a deep kiss that leaves me twitching. Pulling off of my mouth he tells me, “Yeah, Brighton, I do. I’ll be right back.”
When he’s gone I adjust myself, then stand and take a closer look at his room. He’s right—it’s like the blueprint for the all-American straight kid’s life. Which is fine, if it’s fine with Jay. I don’t really want him changing. He’s pretty damn perfect just the way he is.
He comes back in with a black trash bag and hands it to me. I get it open and follow him to his bookshelf. He starts clearing out the books and dumping them in the bag. He gets to a shelf of what looks like photo albums and takes one out, opening it up and laughing. It’s a scrapbook.
“Oh my God, you’re so damn cute,” I say, looking at the little kid with white hair and big blue eyes, in his little baseball uniform, holding a bat that’s as big as him. “And you look really happy.”
“I’m sure I was.”
“You think there’s something that kid would have rather been doing?”
He shakes his head. “Naw. Playing sports has always made me happy. Even when I’m depressed, all I gotta do is go outside and shoot some hoops or throw a ball around, and I can forget about it for a minute. I don’t think this part of my life has anything to do with my mom or my grandpa. It’s part of me. Before you came along, it was the only thing that really made me happy.”
“That and the Internet.”
“That, and your Instagram account,” he says, closing the book and smirking at me.
“Please,” I tell him. “You don’t have to pretend like I’m your material of choice.”
He raises his eyebrows at me and nods toward his computer.
“What?”
He reaches over and moves his mouse so his screen comes to life and sure as shit, my Instagram account pops up.
“Wow, Jay. You’re such a stalker.”
“I’m the hugest creeper. And I’m not the only one. You got a lot of random guys commenting on all of your pics.”
“Do I?” I ask, feigning ignorance.
“I don’t know. I guess I have. Like I said before, it’s not like I can just flirt with guys at school. And I like to flirt.”
“Oh, really? I hadn’t noticed,” he says, his nostrils flared.
“Are you jealous?”
“Naw. Think I’ll start my own account… post a lot of shirtless pictures. Your friends seem to like those ones the best.”
I laugh. “That’s not a bad idea. You should do that. But maybe we should just post it on my account. I’ve never posted a picture of a guy I was with.”
“Yeah, I noticed that. Why is that?”
I shrug at him. “I guess ’cause the only guy I’ve been in a relationship with wouldn’t let me post pictures of him.”
“Sounds like a total asshole. I’m all up for letting you post pictures of us.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Cool. Get your shirt off.”
Without any hesitation, he pulls his hoodie and T-shirt over his head. I stare at him. I can’t help it. “Maybe this is a bad idea,” I say, mostly to myself.
“You don’t want people to know you’re hanging out with someone?”
“You’re gonna get hit on to no end. On my page.”
He smirks at me. “If you’re scared of a little competition….”
I raise an eyebrow at him. “Are you open to competitors?”
He shrugs like he’s thinking about it. I can feel my face tense. He laughs then. “Good to know you’re not writing me off as a complete goner.”
“Why would I do that? You could probably have anyone you want. There’s no reason for me to think it’s gonna be me.”
He narrows his eyes at me. “It’s you. I believe one of the first things I told you was that even if all the guys in the world were gay, it would still be you. And now I want you to show all those stalkers that it’s me. For now, at least, it’s me.”
“Getting territorial?” I ask, taking my phone out of my back pocket.
“Yep.”
I open my camera app and point my phone at Jay. He’s got his hands in the pockets of his jeans, and the band of his boxer briefs is showing. His cut body is intimidating. The look on his face gets me worked up instantly—those eyes that are looking like he wants to fuck me. Shit. I snap the picture. I don’t know if I’m gonna be willing to share it, but God knows I’ll spend hours looking at it.
Riding with Brighton Page 19