Page 44 of Right Up His Alley

“No more kissing at the alley then,” Truett agrees and takes a step forward.

“Good.”

“Yes, good.”

Then, like striking a match, everything ignites. I don’t know who moves first—only that one second there’s space between us, and the next, his body is in my arms, his back pressed against the side of the shed, hidden from the view of my kitchen window. I’m kissing him like we haven’t kissed in years, rather than just a day ago.

His lips are soft and warm. I taste his peppermint toothpaste as my tongue demands entrance. A needy sound escapes Truett, hardening every muscle in my body.

My tongue traces along the seam of his lips, coaxing him to open for me. The moment he does, I capture the soft gasp that escapes him, savoring the sound as my hands slide down to grip his hips. I pull him closer, pressing against the hard ridges of his sculpted body, feeling every defined muscle beneath my fingertips. Desire coils tighter inside me, fueling the hunger in my kiss as it deepens, growing more urgent with each passing second.

It’s too much.

It’s not enough.

A loud whistle from behind us has me jumping back, away from Truett like we’ve been caught in a salacious act. I guess we kinda have. A boisterous laugh echoes around us. “Ay, stop sucking face with your boyfriend and get your ass over here, cabrón. Let the man breathe,” Tío Pablo yells, apparently having gotten here just as I decided to make out with Truett.

Great. Interrupted again.

“To be continued?” Truett laughs, a cute red flush to his cheeks that makes me want to pull him back in for a kiss and ignore everything else.

But I’m a fucking responsible adult, so I don’t. “Definitely. And sorry about my uncle. He’s harmless,” I assure, not wanting him to get the wrong idea about my family.

Truett just shrugs. “It’s okay. I’ll get the cooler out while you help him. Inside the shed, right?”

“Right. The blue one, not the red,” I say.

“Blue. Not red,” Truett repeats with a salute. I linger for a moment in case he needs help and to calm my body before running off to help my uncle. I do my best not to cringe when Pablo instantly starts in, making fun of me. Not because I’m gay—he doesn’t give a shit about that. No, because I jumped like a “little bitch” when he scared me.

Thank fuck I’m not as sensitive as some of my cousins, because insults are how we show love in my family. You just have to roll with the punches. I let him tease me as I help him unload the food from the back of his truck. By the time we return to my backyard, the blue cooler sits on the porch with the rest of them, but I don’t see Truett. Not until I take a peek inside and learn my mom and her sister have enlisted him to help with the cooking.

Unfortunately, I don’t get any more alone time while we prepare for the rest of my family to get here. My dad’s side arrives first, all kissing my cheeks and telling me just how much I remind them of my father. A random tía I barely know starts crying at my “uncanny” resemblance to him. We share eyes and a hairline, but I mostly take after my mother. This particular tía is known for her dramatics though, so I just let her cry as I awkwardly try to comfort her until her husband pulls her away for drinks.

I know when my mom’s sisters—six in total—arrive because the kitchen suddenly gets loud with laughs, and everyone tries to talk over each other. From the corner of my eye, I spot Truett escaping the kitchen, looking around once he steps outside. I love all my family, but they can be overwhelming for someone not used to such massive gatherings. Hell, I’m overwhelmed.

After a moment, our eyes meet, and I reserve a smile just for him. Truett walks in my direction, looking relieved he found me again. “So, I saw you naked,” he says, approaching me.

I choke on my own spit. “You what?”

My discomfort is clearly hilarious to him because he laughs at my mortification. “Your mom brought out the baby album. Tons of cute baby photos of you in the tub.”

I groan. “Fuck, she told me she got rid of those.”

“Nope. She even gave me one to take home.”

“She did not.” My eyes widen in humiliation.

“Nah, she didn’t. But, hey, the day’s still young,” he teases, winking, nudging my side with his elbow. That reality is still very possible because my mom always has too much to drink when all her sisters come over. That’s when the true embarrassing childhood stories happen. I vow to keep Truett away from her for the rest of the night to spare my ego.

My backyard is packed to the brim with primos—some tossing a football back and forth, others climbing all over the same rickety playscape we’ve had since I was a kid. The thing has to be at least twenty years old—one strong gust of wind away from collapsing—and yet somehow it’s still standing.

While the kids run wild, the adults cluster around the food table and coolers, staking out their spots like they plan to stay there all day. Laughter and happy shouts rise up around me, filling the air, and I can’t help but smile. I love days like this. Even when my family gets overbearing, I love every single one of them. I know how lucky I am to have a big, tight-knit family that shows up like this, over and over again.

It’s usually just us—family only. No friends, no outsiders. The only exception is significant others. And that thought snags in my chest. Is that how my mom sees Truett?

Despite the loud chaos happening around us, I hear Truett’s stomach growl. “They didn’t feed you inside?” I’m shocked since my mom’s favorite pastime is feeding everyone who steps into her kitchen.

“No, she did,” Truett assures. “But it was just a tease. It somehow made me hungrier. Your mom can cook, dude. Did you know that?”