Him (Him #1)(58)

Now I’m laughing. “And I guess you can leave the toilet seat up, right?”

Wes spreads his hands. “See? Benefits everywhere. And here’s one more—the parents don’t nag you for grandchildren.”

“I have five siblings,” I point out. “They’re guaranteed at least a basketball team.”

The waiter brings our beers, and I actually give him a wink before he goes.

“Look at you!” Wes crows after he walks away. “You could be good at this.”

“Like it’s hard?” Wes is grinning at me, and I hate to kill the mood. But I realize that I’ve got a question for him that’s been bothering me. “What did your parents say when you told them?”

His face falls. “Well. At first they didn’t believe me. My mother said, ‘This is just a phase.’ And my father said nothing.”

“When was this?”

“Freshman year of college. I decided to tell them on the way to my grandfather’s house for Thanksgiving. We were all trapped in the car together.”

“Nice timing.”

He shrugs. “I didn’t even know what to do with that reaction. It never occurred to me they’d just sort of ignore me. Though in retrospect it makes plenty of sense.”

His dull admission brings an ache to my heart. It also makes me wonder how my own family would react if they knew I was hooking up with a guy. But no matter how many times I try to picture their expressions filling with horror or disgust, I can’t see it. Support is all I’ve ever gotten from them.

“So what did you do?” I ask, hoping my inner distress doesn’t show on my face.

“Well, Canning, this is me we’re talking about here. So I got really f*cking mad. And next time I was home on break I picked up a guy at a party and blew him in the family room when I knew they were on their way home.”

Yikes. “That probably got the point across.”

Wes takes a long pull of his beer and I watch his strong throat work. “It did the trick. My dad did all the yelling I expected him to do the first time. He said I was disgusting. And that I was going to f*ck up my hockey career. Hell. That’s still his biggest concern.”

Ouch. “What does your mom say?” He never mentions her. How can a mother not defend her son?

“She’s his yes man and pearl-clutcher-in-chief. So she never says much.”

Shit, I really killed the mood. But luckily our appetizers arrive a moment later, and we’re happy again. Sometimes it’s just that easy.





27





Wes





I drive us a mile farther up the road to the park where the band is playing. Neither of us has ever been to this place before, but it’s nice. A lawn runs all the way down to the water. A band shell has been set up near the shore, and people of all ages are settling down on the grass.

We find a spot easily enough. I sit down, but Jamie doesn’t. “Shit. I didn’t think this through,” he says, eyeing his rather nice pair of khaki shorts.

I look up at him. “And here I thought I was the gay dude.”

He smacks the top of my head. “Tomorrow is Pat’s parents’ weekend. I’m just trying to represent.”

“Fine.” I stand up. “Wait here a second.” I jog to the car and dig an old plaid blanket out of the back. When I rejoin Canning, I give him a cocky smile. “See? It’s a good thing I never clean my car.” I spread it out on the grass and flop down.

Jamie sits beside me. We both lean back at the same time, and my hand comes down on top of his. So I move mine a couple inches to give him space.

But he moves his too, covering mine.

I don’t want him to know how much I like that, so I don’t look him in the eye. Instead, I stare up at the darkening sky over the lake and wonder how I’ve made it to age twenty-two without ever going on a date. I’d teased Jamie about it earlier, too. But here we are. Dinner and live music. Sitting on a f*cking blanket in the park. I’ve never dated anyone before, and I’m probably not very good at it.

After a while the band starts up. There are four of them—a singer, a guitar, a double bass and percussion. The first song they play is a weak cover of a Dave Matthews song.

“Huh,” Jamie says.

“What?”

“I’m worried.”

“About the music?” I’m in a mood to be generous. “They’re just warming up, right? Every band covers Dave Matthews. It’s a law, I think.”

Unfortunately, things don’t improve.

“Could that be an old tune by Billy Joel?” Jamie asks.

I listen hard for a second. “God, maybe. It sounds like they’re trying to play ‘New York State of Mind’.”

“Not sure they’ve quite got it.”

I flip my hand over and squeeze his fingers as the sky grows darker.

By the third song, it’s so bad it’s funny. The lead singer looks out into the crowd and announces, “We’re going to play an original tune that my friend Buster wrote.”

Jamie and I both clap, like we know Buster. Go Buster.

“It’s called ‘Captive Rain,’ and we’re giving this song its world debut.”

The drummer counts them in, and the first four bars aren’t so bad. But the lyrics are… awful. I don’t know what the guy is singing about. Captive rain is coming at him like a...train.