AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He and Jason come over to join us. Donovan takes one of the chairs across from us, but I’m feeling needy. I take Jason’s hand and give it a squeeze. Rather than pulling away, he leans into it, perching on the arm of my chair and moving his hand to my back. “You good?” he asks.
“Mmhm,” I hum, leaning my head on his thigh. I feel small and safe here.
Donovan has a bottle of red dangling from his fingers. He pours himself a glass, and when Nadine extends her own glass, he tops her off as well.
“What have you boys been up to?” Nadine asks.
Donovan’s dark eyes swoop over Jason intently. “We just had a heart-to-heart.”
With my cheek pressed to Jason’s thigh, I noticed his pants are black—weren’t they blue when we came to dinner? “Did you change pants, or am I going crazy?” I ask.
“We had a wine spill,” Donovan answers. “He had to rub it out.”
Even in the dying light of the sunset, I can see Jason go bright red, his ears positively pink.
Jason changes the topic. “What’ve you girls been talking about?”
“You, mainly,” Nadine says—which isn’t a lie. “Your Kenzi is a real charmer, here. I would hold on to her, if I were you.”
“Because you’re so good at that,” Donovan adds, a sharpness in his tone. “Holding on to things.”
She purses her lips. “Donovan, aren’t you and I ever going to be friends?”
“Don’t count on it.”
Say what you will about Donovan—but he is ride or die, all the way.
“How about a toast?” Jason lifts his glass to break the tension.
“To old friends and new,” Nadine says.
“And everything in between,” Donovan adds.
We click glasses and drink on it.
72
Jason
For a minute, it’s actually nice.
Nadine, Donovan, Kenzi, and I chat. Kenzi has her head on my thigh, like a cat. Even now and then, Donovan catches my eyes. Our, uh, thing upstairs might’ve satisfied me for the moment, but it’s also ignited a new desire in me, and every time he makes eye contact, it’s hard not to clear the distance and put my mouth on his.
But soon enough, my parents come out, and any want for Donovan goes immediately on mute in this presence. It’s replaced by this wall—a feeling of being on guard.
Everyone—including my parents—is a little tipsy, which means it’s the time of night when my dad regales everyone with his work stories. HIPAA be damned.
“Oh, Leonard.” My mom pets my father’s chest. “Tell them the story about your special summer patient.”
He chuckles. “I’m sure they don’t want to hear about it.”
“I do!” Kenzi says too enthusiastically.
The corners of my father’s mouth lift. “Alright. He was in the oncology wing. He’s a transvestite, so he wants me to call him she.”
My blood starts to hum. “Trans,” I say. “You can just say she’s trans. Transvestite isn’t a word used anymore.”
He lets out an impatient breath. “Anyway—we have this sort of terse back-and-forth about pronouns, of all things. Finally, I turn to him and say, Well, ma’am, I’ve got bad news about your testicles.”
