Chapter Sixteen
Simeon
Fall started with a hurricane and the end rapidly approached like a damn tornado. Four out of six games leading up to the holidays were away, and after my mini break I felt ill-prepared and out of shape.
Hits seemed to impact me harder, my ears rang a little bit longer, and sometimes I had to blink several times while on my back in the middle of the field before I could regain my bearings. Had I gotten that soft in the first two months of the season, or was I distracted by . . . other things? Things like spending every scrap of a moment that wasn’t at the training facility or in a shitty hotel room with Adrián Bravo.
We’d been together, secretly, for over a month, and it was going strong. We met up on off days, usually him coming over or me sneaking into his building, and fucked each other senseless for hours before embarking on a Netflix-and-chill. And in a few hours, he was meeting my mother for a belated Thanksgiving on Long Island. The holiday had to be postponed since we’d both had away games on the day of.
“Yo, what if she fucking hates me?”
“Don’t curse around her, and she won’t.”
“You think I’m suicidal, man? If I curse around my mom, she’d beat my fucking ass.”
I smirked. “Man, I’d love to see that.”
“I bet.”
Adrián was sitting on the floor of my kitchen and staring in the glass door of the oven at the pork shoulder he’d been roasting for hours. He’d also taken to swatting me every time I opened the door to pull off the crispy bits that were already done.
“Gotta say, you cooking is definitely good for sucking up.”
“Well, I figured I had to do something besides looking cute and making coquito while your ass preps an entire turkey.”
“I dunno, boo. That coquito was like magic in my mouth.”
“That’s also what you said last night, so I dunno how valuable that statement is.”
I smacked the back of his head, laughing. He grinned up at me, big brown eyes twinkling and dimples popping with that little-boy mischief. It was hard not to jump him right then and there, but I’d just forced him to change out of his basketball shorts and jersey into pants and a button-down. My mother wasn’t trying to have Thanksgiving dinner with some boy looking like he just came from the park.
“You really think she won’t hate me?”
“You’re fine, Bravo. Stop being insecure.”
He pushed himself up with a grunt. The shirt had managed to stay impeccably unwrinkled, but I noticed he was still barefoot.
“Did you make the rest of this shit too?” he asked, sweeping a hand at the covered platters on the counter. “It just appeared suddenly.”
“I ordered the cranberry sauce and dressing from a restaurant.”
“Dressing?” he wrinkled his nose. “You fucking with some Ranch?”
“No, dumbass. What you call stuffing, I call dressing.” He flipped me off, and I laughed before continuing. “My mom is gonna cook some other stuff when she gets here because that’s how she is.”
“Okay, but who else is coming? There’s a million plates on that table.”
“Dude, there are eight plates. Me, you, my mama, Yaritza, Marcus, his girlfriend, Gavin, and his boyfriend.”
Adrián outright cringed. A mote of guilt caught into my excitement of having all my favorite people, minus my auntie Ashley who hadn’t been able to make the trip across the country, together. I hadn’t warned him about the others, but I hadn’t thought I needed to. Everyone coming knew about our relationship, but it was true that only Yaritza really knew him.
“I’m gonna go call my parents,” he said abruptly. “I’ll be down by the time everyone is here.”
“Why are you being nervous?”
“I’m not nervous.”
I snagged his hand before he could rush from the room and pushed him up against the doorway. It’d been established early on that Adrián was aggressive and dominant in bed, but there were times when I liked the reversal. Catching him off guard and dragging him into a sloppy kiss until he was vibrating with the need to be inside me.
As tempting as it was to do that now, and wipe his mind of worries, we only had about ten minutes before the car arrived with my mother. I kissed the corner of his mouth, then his dimples, finishing off the worship with a nip at his lower lip. He smiled, unable to help it or the way his eyes lighting up and crinkling at the sides spelled out the extent of his adoration of me.
“Hey,” I said gruffly. “You’re sweet and funny, and you’re clearly pretty infatuated with me. They’ll like you.”
“But—”
“No buts, Bravo. Not until everyone leaves, and you spend a few hours playing with mine.”
Adrián’s nostrils flared. He dragged his teeth over his lower lip, eyelids growing heavy, and dick swelling as I pressed against it.
“I can dig you out real quick. Right now.”
“Nah.”
He reversed our positions, competitive spirit flaring with a feral smile, and backed me up against the wall. “Come on. Let me hit it before your fam arrives and sends me running.”
I snorted and bucked my hips against his. “You being a baby about this ain’t really stirring my arousal.”
“I bet this big dick is, though.”
Laughter boomed out of me before I could help it, but Adrián was a good sport. He just kept grinning and rubbing all up on me, trying to woo me away from my self-control because he knew what a thirstbucket I was for his pipe game.
“You nasty little bastard.”
“Little?”
I laughed harder and shoved my way past him. He made a mournful puppy sound and pressed himself to my back, squeezing and burying his face in my neck with a deep inhale. Resisting him was futile. Or it seemed that way until my security system went off, indicating someone at the gate.
Adrián scowled. “I’m really gonna go call my parents this time.”
“Uh-huh. You better not stay up there.”
“I won’t.”
He didn’t sound convincing, but he’d been too worried about meeting my mother to bail out on her. I hoped, anyway.
After watching his cute ass for a few seconds, I buzzed the gate and met my mother at the door. Her face broke into a huge smile when she saw me, and I grabbed her up in a huge bear hug.
“Simeon, do not pick me up, child.”
“Sorry, Mama.”
I set her down, still smiling so hard my face hurt. She was stunning as always. Black hair in a shorter, sharper style than I remembered, and wearing a black and silver dress, heels, and a huge furry scarf over her leather jacket. Thank Lord I’d convinced Adrián to change.
“You look great.”
“Thank you, honey,” she said, walking inside while carefully unwrapping her scarf. “Where’s that boy of yours?”
“Making a phone call.”
She swung around to pin me with a side eye. “Now? He knew I was coming, didn’t he?”
Oh shit. Just what they needed. An already insulted Mama Boudreaux.
“I don’t think he knew the exact time. He’s calling his mom.”
“Uh-huh.” Joanne Boudreaux, queen of trash talk and skeptical tones. “Mmm. Well, tell him to get his self down here and make sure he’s dressed right. I don’t want to see any tennis shoes at the table.”
“I already told him, Mama.”
“Good. Marcus, Jasmine, and the boys will be here in a minute.”
“How do you know?” I asked, following her across the entry hall. “I haven’t spoken to him all day.”
“Marcus sent me a text.”
I should have known. Marcus loved being a second son.
“All right, but you need to be nice to Adrián,” I cautioned. “He’s scared as hell of messing up in front of you.”
“He should be, after talking all that social media mess. You know I will not hesitate to give him the business if I need to.” She hung her scarf and jacket on the coatrack and clacked across the room towards the kitchen. “Are you cooking already? It best not be catered, boy. I will buy my own groceries and cook my own meals.”
And she damn sure would, even after a long flight in high heels, so I wasn’t going to fight this battle. “There’s enough for you to do if you’re so set on it. But Adrián is already making a pork shoulder. Should be ready to come out.”
She went from skeptical to impressed while skeptical, which was an upgrade. I grinned and jogged up the stairs to find my wayward . . . whatever he was. Man? It sounded too permanent, considering we hadn’t yet put a label on our relationship, but I was pretty sure it fit. And I was pretty sure we were permanent, given the idle murmurings about him really liking my house. I liked it too. Even better if he was in it more often. Especially since Marcus was fixing to move out once he and Jasmine got married this summer.
“Knock, knock,” I said, opening my bedroom door. “Are you—”
Adrián wasn’t exactly as I’d expected to find him. Instead of pacing while he spoke, as was his usual MO, he was sitting in the corner with his knees up and his head tilted against the wall. One hand gripped the phone while the other balled into a fist.
Concern shot through me. I wondered if I should leave, but one glance at his tight mouth and narrowed eyes prompted me to sit next to him on the floor.
“Yeah,” he said flatly into the phone. “I get it.”
“What’s going on?” I murmured.
Adrián’s jaw clenched. He put his phone on speaker so I could hear the conversation.
“—not that I don’t support you, mijo. I love you, and I saw this coming. I did. The way you always talked about Simeon—”
Holy shit, he’d come out to her. My heart seized. I grabbed his hand and brought it to my lips.
“—I knew there was something there. Some obsession or fixation, whatever you want to call it. And you know it doesn’t matter to me, you can’t help who you want to be with.”
“I can’t,” he said in the same dull voice. “And I do want to be with him. I want to live with him.”
He raised his eyes to meet my own as he said it. There was misery there, real unhappiness, but a defiance aimed at me as well. Daring me to reject his declaration. And his invitation to my house. He was such a punk. Even while being a sweetheart. I smiled against his hand and felt the fist loosen.
“Adrián . . .” A warning edge crept into her tone, one I knew well from my own mother. “How will you keep this a secret if you’re living with him?”
“I dunno, but I’m not waiting until I retire to shack up with him. Unless he doesn’t want me shacking up with him.”
I bit his knuckles. He cracked the tiniest smile.
“So, you’re saying to me that your reputation no longer matters? Your father’s feelings?”
Ah-ha. And here the bullshit was. The reason he was coiled and ready to snap despite her appearing to be overall accepting of his queerness. It was okay as long as it was hidden. Discreet.
“I’m supposed to ignore my own happiness and sneak around forever just to spare his feelings?” Adrián demanded. “Let’s say we did wait until I retire. Fine. But Dad would still find out after that. Or you thought I’d keep Simeon a secret until I fucking die?”
“Shhh,” I murmured, pressing closer to him.
“Nah, fuck this.” Adrián slammed his fist back against the wall. “This is bullshit. Just because Simeon’s a man—”
“Do you not understand your father will die of a heart attack?”
“So, I’m supposed to die of fucking heartbreak? Pretend I have no one in my life or that I have no family, because you can be damn sure I’m spending my holidays with him. Not you evil people.”
She scoffed and sounded so much like my mother it was eerie. “Don’t be dramatic.”
“I’m saying, though! How come I get to meet his mother, and he can never meet mine?”
Heavy silence followed his plaintive question. I pressed my face to his neck, trying to soothe away the anger I could feel building inside him and wanting him to know he had me, my family, my friends.
“Ay dios . . .” A gusty sigh broke through the line. “Okay, querido. Let me speak to your father.”
Adrián sagged against me, a big muscular marionette whose strings had been cut. “Thanks, Mami. I love you.”
“I love you too, Adrián.” A pause. “And I support your relationship with my son, Simeon.”
I sat up straight. “Sorry, Mrs. Bravo. I swear I just walked in a few seconds ago.”
“Mmhm. In any case, thank you for forgiving his behavior. We didn’t raise him to be a bully.”
“I’m sure you didn’t, Mrs. Bravo.”
Adrián’s jaw dropped. “Geez. Already bonding over my bad behavior.”
I nudged him and kept talking. “Also, I know it won’t be easy for your family. My own had . . . a rough time when I came out. So, if you ever want to talk to anyone . . .” Volunteering my mother to be someone’s queer mom counselor was suicide, but I rushed out, “Maybe you could reach out to my mother?”
“Maybe I’ll do that. Thank you for the suggestion. You’re much sweeter than my troublemaker deserves.”
“Wow,” Adrián muttered. “Already you’re the favorite.”
We laughed and hung up after she said her farewell. Adrián went slack against me, his big body weighing me down until we thumped against the carpet all wound together.
“Ugh, that was awful.”
“She seemed supportive. I don’t know about your father, though.”
“My father will probably ice me out. No lie.”
My instinct was to object for no reason other than to soothe him, but I didn’t. He was probably right, at least for a few years. If I judged by the reactions of some of the men, and the more religious people, in my own family, people tended to act betrayed to find out they share blood with a queer. Like it would infect them. Or worse, that we’d somehow tricked them into thinking we were normal. It was really telling how some people viewed us as subhuman.
“Your father seems like an ass, anyway.”
“True.” Adrián sighed against the side of my face. “I’m glad you were here.”
“So you could indirectly declare your love for me?”
“Heh. Yeah, that too. So, am I moving in or what? I could fuck with a bowling alley and an Olympic pool and blowjobs every morning.”
The laugh that rushed out of me was full of relief and incredulity. He was so ridiculous. So fucking absurd. And I loved him. I absolutely loved him. It didn’t even matter that I’d hated him not even three months ago. What mattered now is that it was hard to sleep without him in my bed, and the very idea of moving on without him had the capacity to tear apart my heart.
“So, you’re just in it for the dick-sucking?”
“And the ass-fucking.”
I bit his ear, eliciting a low moan instead of a pained yelp. “I want you to move in, but not now. After the Super Bowl.”
“Duh. No one was trying to pack boxes between games every week.”
“I like how this is turning into the most unromantic chain of events ever.”
“Simeon, we started fucking as a dare. We’re not romantic.”
I bit him again, relishing the way my linebacker, the one who was on his way to bypassing NFL records for most sacks and interceptions, reacted to such a minor touch. Maybe I’d use it against him on the field when our teams played next week.
“I dunno. You’re kind of romantic. After you come out, I think I’m going to write a big ole Facebook post about how sweet you are on the downlow.”
Adrián, of course, loved this idea. “Bet. I’ll pose for selfies being cute as fuck. Turn it into a book and make bank.”
“Lord Jesus. Forget it. You ruined it.”
I got to my feet. He smacked my ass.
“Come on. My mom is about to flip when she sees I bought stuffing from some restaurant on Long Island, and I’ll have to talk her down by telling her I saved the giblets and drippings for gravy.”
“What about the rest of your crew?”
The door beeped to signal Marcus’s arrival with Jasmine, Noah, and Gavin. Adrián groaned again, louder, and I knew it was at the thought of eating a meal while Gavin Brawley gave him the ice grill all night. Thankfully, Noah had promised to run interception.
“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.
“Gavin won’t let up for a while,” Joanne said once her son left the kitchen. “Learn to take it in stride. I love that boy like he were my own blood, but he is damn hardheaded when he’s being overprotective.”
“I’m not gonna hurt Simeon,” I said. “I know I messed up—”
“Yes indeed.”
My stomach tied up in a knot, and I ran my hands through my hair. “I don’t know what to say to convince anyone. This whole thing was probably a bad idea.”
Joanne arched an eyebrow and crossed her arms over her chest. “Looky here, Adrián, it’s not every day my son wants me to meet someone he’s seeing. So, this is a special occasion, yeah?”
“I mean, I guess . . .”
“No guessing. It is.” She inhaled slowly, lips pursing again. “I love my son, but his judgment isn’t always what it should be. He is talented and sweet and handsome, but he can also be a damn fool. Especially nowadays when he should know his every action will end up in the spotlight, and he still makes silly mistakes.”
“Because he’s too trusting,” I blurted out without thinking. The arch look she gave me made it clear that was also her concern, and that the concern was also aimed at me. “But I’m not—look, I’m not gonna be another mistake. I don’t think so, anyway. He knows how much I regret the way I acted. I fuc—freaking think back on it and regret it every day. And he trusts me now.”
“But why should he trust you is my question,” she pressed. “Why should I trust you with my son? Marcus and Gavin with their brother?”
“Because . . .” I glanced at the door again, waiting for Gavin or Simeon or whoever the hell else to appear. “Because . . .”
She made that face again—the raised eyebrow while her mouth pursed—while spreading out the store-bought food Simeon had purchased. I couldn’t tell if she was more disdainful of me or restaurant hors d’oeuvres and sides. Being up there with crab puffs wasn’t a good feeling, and I was starting to think I was on the precipice of making her lose her patience.
“Mrs. B, I’m so scared of messing up again that I’m carrying around multiple mirrors to watch my ass.” She burst out laughing, clapping her hands, and I heaved a sigh of relief. “Seriously, though! I feel blessed that he even gave me a shot after all my nonsense. I’m doing everything in my power to make him happy. Why do you think I’m here eating with Hendricks and Brawley, who both fuc—freaking hate me?”
Joanne walked around the counter to pat my arm, still grinning broadly. “They don’t hate you, baby. They’re just protective of Simeon. And if you really care about him, you’ll find a way to get along with them.”
Was she giving me a bros-before-hos warning? I had no idea, so I just blinked at her while cringing. She laughed again.
“Go try your best. And send Noah’s skinny behind in here. That boy needs a meal.”
Send Noah? I didn’t even know the guy, besides the fact that he was screwing a giant blond jackass who wanted to rip my throat out like a pissed-off Viking. Even so, I shot her a weak smile, rallied when she gave me a big hug, and shuffled out of the kitchen. Right into the pissed-off Viking in question once I hit the entryway again.
We stared each other down for a beat before he looked me up and down with a scoff.
“You know you’re gonna be outed at some point, right? And that your team is gonna treat you like you suddenly transformed into a pile of hot garbage?”
“Yeah, I know. Thanks for that glimpse into my future.”
“You can save your fucking sarcasm for someone who thinks you’re cute,” he rumbled. “I’m just giving you the what’s what and you can do with it what you will.”
“What do you think I’m gonna do with it?” I demanded incredulously. “Not be with Simeon because eventually some assholes will treat me like shit? I’m not blowing my shot with him over that.”
“Why not?”
“Because I fucking—” Love him. I clenched my jaw and rolled my shoulders. “Because I want him in my life, and he wants me in his. You feel me?” He stared flatly, unimpressed, and I rolled my eyes. “All right, tough guy. Go ahead and mean mug me until the end of time, but I’m gonna be around regardless, soooo . . .”
“So then don’t fuck it up. I’d hate to have to go back to wanting to choke your bitch ass out every time I see you.”
And with that beauty of a comment, Gavin Brawley shoulder-checked me on his way into the kitchen. It took me a second to realize that his comment had been as close to a compliment as I was ever going to get with him.
Well. It was a start.