Chapter Seven

The day passed pretty uneventfully as Lance worked on tracks for the Ithaca Festival and Richie went to talk to his professor. Richie found himself watching the clock, anxiously waiting for three o’clock to roll around. That’s when he would play ball with Lance.

After meeting with his professor he went back to the apartment to change into ball clothes. Lance wasn’t there so he figured he might as well head to the court early. Maybe he would run around the track a couple of times to clear his mind.

Everything felt like a jumbled heap of twine—feelings that made no sense twisted this way and that. He was afraid to find the end because he wasn’t exactly sure what he would find once he reached the end—not to mention the knotted mess that was in the middle.

There was no way he had feelings for Lance. He couldn’t. He’d been with dozens of women—not something he was overly proud of. His Catholic background ingrained guilt into him every time he was with a woman. There was just something about being wrapped up in the soft curves of a woman’s body that couldn’t be replaced. The way their skin was so soft and supple beneath his touch. The soft moans and the flush of the skin as they reached arousal was something he treasured.

If that was the case, then why was he having a hard time picturing himself with a woman? The thought alone used to turn his dick harder than steel and send him running to one of his bed bunnies. However, now, as he made his way down the street to the ball courts and track, thinking about slipping between the thighs of a woman was doing nothing for him.

“Stop psyching yourself out,” he muttered as he began to stretch. Taking a jog around the track was exactly what he needed to do.

However, as he was getting ready to run, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out and saw the face of his baby sister—Kendra. He smiled and tapped the button.

“Hey.”

“What are you doing?” his sister’s bubbly voice asked from the other end of the line. Of all his sisters, he and Kendra were the closest. Probably because there were less than two years between them.

“Bout to go for a run and then play some ball with Lance. What are you up to?” Richie came from a big family. Unfortunately, that big family consisted of four older sisters and one baby sister, putting him next to the youngest and the only boy. Their father had passed away a couple years ago and the sting of loss was still somewhat fresh.

She sighed heavily into the phone causing him to frown. “What’s going on?” he asked, concern lacing his voice.

“Mom wants you to come to dinner,” she finally said.

“She what?”

“She’s still pissed as hell over the whole Molly thing, but I think she’s trying to get over it. She even said for you to bring your roommate.”

The thought of taking his roommate to his mother’s house made his stomach twist into a giant knot of anxiety.

“I don’t know, I’m sure he’s got other things to do. He just got word that he’s going to be spinning at the Ithaca Festival. He’s probably busy with that.”

“The Ithaca Fest? How freaking awesome is that?” she said.

“Yeah, he’s pretty stoked about it.”

“I can understand why! That’s pretty epic. So, bring him and we can celebrate.”

“I don’t know, Kenna,” he said using his nickname for her.

“Why not? I really like him. He’s cool as hell!”

“Kendra!” Richie said, laughing at his sister's excitement.

“Stop being such a prude.” She snorted. “Seriously, though. Why not bring him? Mom doesn’t care that he’s gay.”

He snorted when he heard the slight whine in her voice. She had a point, why not! It’s not like he was hiding anything. He and Lance were roommates and best friends. Wasn’t it common for friends to know the family?

“Fine,” he lamented. “I will ask him and see what he has to say. What time?”

“Tonight at seven thirty?”

“Okay, I’ll check with Lance.?”

“Why? Are you afraid to deal with momma?”

“Yes. Yes, I am,” he said jokingly—even though it wasn’t that far off from the truth.

“Okay, I’ll see you tonight then.”

“Love ya, baby sister.”

“Awwww, you’re all smushy,” she teased—her laughter tinkling like a bell into his ear. “I love you too, Rich. I’ll see you tonight.”

He disconnected the phone. “Check with me about what?”

Richie whirled around to find Lance walking up behind him. He wore a pair of orange gym shorts and a black tank top. His smile wide across his face.

“That was Kendra,” Richie said, tucking the phone back into his pocket.

“Oh, yeah? How is the cute little ball of fire?”

Richie snorted. “Raising all kinds of hell I’m sure.”

“Without a doubt. Listen, my mom asked us to dinner tonight.”

Lance’s eyes widened. “Your mom? Like the woman who has frozen you out for a couple years now because you lived with a woman out of wedlock? That mom?”

Richie rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I only have the one.”

Lance shifted from one foot to the other the look of anxiousness coming over his face. Richie frowned. “What is it?”

“She won’t have a problem with me being there? I mean it’s not exactly like I’m still in the closet. That goes against everything she believes.”

“I know, but she actually really likes you. I think her issue is the really flamboyant gay men. Not that there is a problem with them at all… she’s just …” He let the sentence fall, struggling to find the words he needed.

“No, I get it. She’s old school. Listen, I don’t care to go. I could use some good Italian cooking,” he said playfully.

It was no lie that Richie got his love of cooking from his mother’s Italian side of the family. While his three older sisters bore the resemblance of their Italian mother—black hair and gray-green eyes—he and Kendra resembled their fair-haired father. They looked nothing like their older siblings and as they’d all grown up, they’d often been teased.

“My momma does know how to cook,” Richie agreed.

“I’ve had leftovers and they were awesome. I can hardly imagine what fresh stuff would taste like.”

Richie studied Lance for a minute their eyes locking together. He found himself being pulled into Lance’s gaze. It felt like the oxygen was being pulled from his lungs. His palms grew sweaty and clammy. Why? Something whispered to the back of his mind, but he pushed the voice down. He couldn’t think about that.

The silence stretched out between them for a while longer. “I just think it’s important that you work things out with your mother,” Lance finally said. “I’d give anything to be able to still see my mother.”

Lance’s voice was filled with ache, and Richie knew what he was thinking. It had only been a year since Lance’s mother had passed away from her battle with cancer. That had happened a little while after they’d moved in together, and as far as he was concerned, it was what had sealed their friendship together.

“I know,” Richie said.

“Just give it a shot.”

He gave a nod before bending down and retrieving the basketball at their feet. “Still wanna play a few games?”

Lance batted the ball out of his hands and rushed down the court to sink a perfect layup.

He retrieved the ball and flashed a perfectly white smile. “What you got, pretty boy?”