I shake my head at him and then move to the closet to grab some of my clothes for the both of us.
“I thought you liked me in my sweats?”
“I do,” I say as I try to find something suitable for him to wear. “But we’re about to have breakfast with your parents.”
“Yeah.” He laughs. “My parents already know I’m a slob who can’t dress himself.” He gets out of bed and steps into his Mules sweatpants. “Seriously, this is fine.”
I take a moment to look him over as he pulls the light hooded sweatshirt on and zips it up over the white tank top he fell asleep in. It really is fine. He looks relaxed and comfortable, andthe material of the pants stretches enticingly over his muscular thighs and round butt.
And yes, his hair is a mess, but he’s also wearing my favorite crooked smile of his that quietly says, this is when he feels his best.
I step to him and smooth the flyaway strands of his hair down and tuck them behind his ears.
“Thanks, Dad,” he says with a teasing grin.
I laugh and give him a quick kiss. “Baby, don’t you dare start calling me that.”
Brandon
My entire life I’ve always been secretive. But even I have to admit that it’s weird sitting across from my parents in this booth hiding the fact from them that Ryan and I are together. They wouldn’t care. Honestly, they’d be thrilled about it. But how does one even broach that subject?
Hey, Mom and Dad. Did you know that mine and Ryan’s feet are hooked around each other under the cover of this table? Guess what? We also share a bed on road trips.Or probably the best one.Do you both remember when I was fourteen and completely destroyed when Ryan moved out? Well, turns out, I’m still in love with him.
Yeah, we’re going to continue skipping all that. But I also can’t help but be pissed at myself for having never come out to them in the first place. That conversation is long overdue.
“So,” my dad says. “Have you talked to Ander lately?”
I finish chewing, then swallow the bite of my breakfast sandwich I had just taken. “We spoke shortly after the playoffs started.”
“You haven’t spoken to him since?” my mom asks.
“No.” I shrug. “It’s the playoffs. We’re both a little busy right now.”
“Have you seen any of the interviews he’s done about potentially playing against you?” my dad asks.
“Not really,” I sigh. “That’s not something I want to focus onright now. It’s not even all that likely. I don’t know why people are making such a big deal about it.”
My mother tilts her head at me. “Are you upset about it?”
“No.” I shrug. “That’s not it. It’s just?—”
“We don’t need the distraction,” Ryan says, leaning forward over his plate and shoveling a bite of his omelet into his mouth. I could kiss him right now if it wasn’t for our present company.
“I think it’s fun,” my mom says. “We’ve even had reporters calling us.”
Ryan wipes his lips with his napkin, then takes a sip of his coffee. “What are they asking you about?”
“The boys, obviously,” she says, then smiles at Ryan. “And you too, actually. It seems a lot of people are taking an interest in the fact that you billeted with us.”
“It’s a good story,” my dad says, taking a bite of his toast. “Human interest type of thing.”
“What do you know about human interest?” I ask him.
“Enough to know that people think it’s pretty special that the two of you are playing together now. And that he and Ander used to play on the same team. People like that sort of thing.”
“Alright, I see your point,” I grumble then go back to eating my breakfast sandwich.
Ryan presses his leg more firmly against mine under the cover of the table. He digs back into his omelet.
