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“You ready?”
Adrián sighed tragically and checked himself in the mirror, running a hand over his shaved face and then adjusting his clothes. He claimed to not want to be around anyone, but everything he was doing made it quite clear that he wanted to make a good impression.
“Ready.”
I nodded, watching him start for the door. At the last moment, I pressed myself to his back and whispered in his ear, “I love you, Bravo.”
He turned for a kiss at the side of my mouth. “I know.”
Completely unsurprised, I pushed him out the door.
Adrián
There were more than eight people attending this post-Thanksgiving shindig, and I felt betrayed.
Jasmine, Marcus Hendricks’s ridiculously gorgeous fiancée, and the giant rock on her finger, had brought along her parents. And Noah, Gavin Brawley’s boyfriend, who looked kind of like a school teacher who would get really dirty once he took off his glasses and tie, had brought his dad. There was also a child present. If I went by the black curls and huge brown eyes, he had to be related to Jasmine. I had no idea what his name was, because as Joanne Boudreaux made all the necessary introductions, I blanked out. Half because of nerves and half because Gavin was still looking at me like he wanted to break my neck.
Or maybe that was just his face.
“I’m Adrián,” I added pointlessly, when she was done.
“We know who you are, baby,” Joanne said.
I know she probably wasn’t trying to make me feel like an asshole, but my face burned anyway. Simeon thankfully didn’t come to my rescue, and went about collecting all the dishes everyone had brought over. It was a good distraction mostly because I felt like I’d gotten over on everyone by roasting a big-ass pernil even though I could legit eat the entire thing by myself.
“Not a green-bean casserole in sight,” Simeon said, nodding his approval at Noah and Gavin. “Good job, y’all.”
“I don’t even know what that is,” Gavin said flatly. “I’m not a holiday person.”
“You weren’t one,” Noah said. “Holidays with me are the best. Me and my dad—”
“Eat Entenmann’s pies,” Jasmine filled in. “And watch the parade on mute.”
She and Noah glared at each other before they snickered. I had no idea what they were talking about, so I pulled at my collar and counted the seconds until everyone either filed into the kitchen or the theater to watch TV.
Judging from the easy chatter, everyone was acquainted with each other. The best course of action was to pick the group I needed to impress the most and stick by them, so I followed Simeon, his mom, Jasmine, and her mother, Yvette, to the kitchen rather than follow the guys to watch football.
“Oh man,” Jasmine moaned, practically floating to the counter where someone had set the pernil. “What delightful creature made this?”
“Adrián did,” Simeon said, grinning all proud-like. “I didn’t know he could cook until today when he started tearing it down in the kitchen.”
“I have a whole bag of tricks I haven’t shown you yet,” I said with a wink.
“Like not being a dickhead on social media?”
Gavin had come in behind us and muttered the comment, but it still cracked through the room like a gunshot. I set my jaw and looked back at him, wanting really badly to talk shit to him, but faltered when he just smirked.
“Young man, this is not the day to start all that fussin’,” Joanne said before anyone could get a word in. “And I won’t have you using that language either.”
Gavin, broad as me in a charcoal button-down that had to have been tailored for his biceps, shrugged. “Sorry.”
He sounded the exact opposite of sorry. Joanne pinned him with a stern glare before nodding towards the door. “Why don’t you all go to the theater? There’s beer, lemonade, cool drinks, and wine.”
If Jasmine and Yvette seemed reluctant to go, Simeon was outright defiant. He crossed his arms over his chest, brow furrowed, and stared at his mother.
“Mama.”
“Uh-uh. You too.”
My heart jolted, and I looked at Simeon with panic. She caught my expression and pursed her lips.
“I will not bite you, child.”
“I don’t think you will, ma’am, but I already had it with my own mother today so . . .”
“He came out to her,” Simeon said helpfully. “Uh, and I sorta said maybe you could be her mom-of-a-queer-athlete life coach. Sorry.”
To my surprise, Joanne just nodded. “That’s fine. I’m pretty sure I have her number.”
“Why do you . . .”
She cut me off with a wave of her hand and seamlessly transitioned to shooing Simeon out of the kitchen. “We’ll call you if we need you, Simeon. Now go talk to Gavin before I do.”
Simeon glanced between her and the door, and seemed to decide that having words with his besties was more pertinent than rescuing me from his mother. It was the right choice, especially since Gavin’s way of looking at me made me want to pop off and smack the shit out of him.
