Page 27 of Unforgettable Player

Scout practically skips to the coffee shop, dragging me by the arm so I keep up. I should be giddy about this, too, right? I’ve had a crush on this guy for a while. Just … a casual crush. The way you pick out the most attractive man to admire when you’re watching a long TV series to make it more interesting. I always thought my crush on Cute Bookstore Guy was like that.

But I let Scout get excited and dissect the entire conversation over her caramel macchiato anyway. I like seeing her smile. And I like how excited she is for me.

She’s a good friend, and kissing her brother was a shitty thing to do. It can absolutely never happen again.

CONNOR

The house is quiet while Dad assembles a lasagna and Mom chops some salad. I sit at the counter, drinking a glass of water and letting the peace wash over me.

That peace is abruptly demolished the second Scout barrels through the front door. She’s squealing about something, her heavy boots clomping on the wood floor. I listen for Elliot’s footsteps, but I won’t hear them over Scout’s. He usually takes his shoes off when he comes into the house anyway—he isn’t a slob like my sister.

“Scout, honey? Is that you?”

“No, it’s the Boston strangler,” Scout shouts back.

Dad snorts and Mom rolls her eyes. She wipes her hands on a dish cloth before stepping out into the hall.

“Where have you been?”

Scout’s heavy footsteps pause on the steps. “Eli just seduced Cute Bookstore Guy.”

My stomach drops. My brain scrambles for an explanation, some sort of rebuttal. Elliot doesn’t go around seducing people, does he? Maybe the Elliot I knew doesn’t, but College Senior Elliot might.

Mom laughs. “What do you mean? Come in here and tell us about it.”

Eli mumbles something I can’t make out. He must be so embarrassed right now. I have to stop myself from going out there and saving him. I love my sister, but she can be so fucking oblivious sometimes.

“No, Mom. We’ll be down for dinner.”

There go the boots clomping up the stairs again.

Mom’s smiling and shaking her head when she comes back in. “Those two.”

“What happened?” Dad asks. He steps back from his creation after arranging the top lasagna sheet in the dish.

“Eli got a date with some cute bookstore guy or something.” Mom shrugs.

“That’s great,” Dad says.

I keep my gaze carefully trained on the countertop, tracing a silvery vein in the granite.

“Connor, you know you can go on dates while you’re home,” Mom says.

I look up. Dad flashes me a conspiratorial wink. “Leave him alone. He’s not home to date. He’s here to spend time with us old fogies.”

Mom tuts. “He’s a handsome young man. Of course he wants to date.”

I imagine telling them right now that I like to date guys. What would they say? My parents are not homophobic. My mom might be judgmental about some things, but if someone’s son came out as gay or bi, there’s no way she would treat it like the gossip about poor Rohan Chbosky’s lie. She’d probably try to set him up with every eligible queer guy she meets. My parents didn’t blink an eye when Scout told them that Elliot’s gay. Mom’s always trying to set him up with guys. Luckily for him, being away at college saves him most of her matchmaking attempts.

But things are different when it’s your kid. They have pre-conceived beliefs when it comes to me, and I’d hate to have to ruin them. Even if Mom’s dream of a big white wedding and 2.5 kids only had to be altered to include a man instead of a woman, adoption or surrogacy instead of the regular method, it would still be a pivot, and I’ve made them pivot enough when it comes to their dreams for me already.

“Do you have any plans tonight?” Mom asks.

“Nope.”

“Why don’t we go to the movies or something. All of us?”

Dad finishes pouring sauce over the assembled lasagna and takes a step back to assess his handiwork.