Page 67 of Sweat

“Call me Matt,” he says. “Rowan’s talked a lot about you.”

“He has?”

“He said he’s been training you to be a starter. Had a late night?”

“Oh. Yeah. I, uh, crashed on the floor.”

He gives a casual nod, hopefully believing me. “Have a seat. We’ll have plenty of food to go around. Hope you’re hungry.”

“Thank you.” I do as I’m told and sit in the chair Rowan pulled out. He sits in the one beside me.

This feels weird. Weird-good, because I love homemade breakfast, but also weird-scary. I barely told Erica about Rowan last night, lying about him being female even, but Rowan’s parents know about me enough to assume any random guy appearing in their home must be Tommy. I’m sure they only know of me as Rowan’s friend, but I know we’re more than that. Especially after last night. I know we didn’t fuck, but the way our bodies melded together as we came at the same time was such a mind-fuck that it feels like we consummated something. And I was inside him, for crying out loud! Just a finger, but still. The way he responded to it, it may as well have been my dick.

Sex aside, I talked to Rowan about something I never thought I’d be able to. Not only did he listen, but he took care of me. Took me home, cleaned me up, calmed me down, andlet me spoon him despite my pesky boner poking him in the back all night. He told me things too. Things I can’t minimize or forget. Things that make me worry about him while also tethering my heart tighter to him.

I look sideways at him, and I can tell he’s in his head. Pensive and chewing on the inside of his cheek. Under the table, I lay my hand on his leg long enough to give it a reassuring squeeze. Thankfully, he responds by sending me a soft smile that’s almost reassuring back.

The girls come back to the table and sit across from Rowan and I. The younger one, Lena, quickly starts up talking to Rowan the same way Mav talks to me, rambling and overexcited about even the most mundane activities. It’s cute to see how unintimidated the little girl is of Rowan, and how sweet Rowan is back to her.

Meanwhile, Olive won’t quit staring at me, and when I smile at her, she goes beet red and looks away.

Matt sticks the toddler in a high chair beside one head of the table before joining Xiamara in the kitchen. They both come out a minute later with platters of breakfast foods that turn my nervousness into hunger.

As soon as everyone is at the table and piling their plates, Rowan starts in talking to Matt about sports. Catching up on the latest MLB news, commenting on the recent NBA draft, and discussing our upcoming soccer season. It’s nice Rowan can nerd out with his dad about the shit he’s passionate about, and Matt seems to know a lot about soccer. Not just fan stuff but minute details about the sport, how it’s played and how to train for it. It takes minutes for me to realize he’s wearing a faded McClatchy High Men’s Soccer t-shirt.

“Okay, okay, that’s enough sports talk,” Xiamara interjects, waving her hands as if to waft the subject into oblivion. Turning a giddy grin to me, she asks, “What do you do, Tommy?”

“Uh.” I clear my throat. “I play soccer.”

Rowan chuckles beside me as Xiamara’s expression turns pointed and unamused.

“Sorry,” I say. “I, uh, work at a deli part-time. Go to school. Help take care of my sister and my nephew.”

“You’re close with your family?” she asks me.

“Yeah. I think so. They’re, like, the most important people in my life.”Besides Rowan.

She nods, sending a smile at Rowan. “He gets along with his family.”

“Yeah, I know,” Rowan replies with a slight edge of annoyance to his tone.

I look between the two of them, kind of confused, but I know as well as anyone how complex the mother-son relationship can be.

Looking back at me, Xiamara asks, “So how long have you two been, you know…friends?”

“Uhh.” Between the manner in which Xiamara saidfriendsand the sparkle in her eyes, I’m guessing she gleaned something intimate from how she met me in the garage. The strangest thing is that she doesn’t bat an eye at the idea Rowan would be involved with a guy. In fact, her eyes are wide open, scintillating for details like she’s been waiting her whole life for Rowan to bring a boy home for breakfast.

“Xiamara,” Matt says with a small warning in his tone.

I look between the two of them before looking at Rowan. He’s staring at his plate, not touching a thing despite the bacon being extra crispy, just the way he likes.

Do his parents know he’s gay? If they know, and they don’t mind, why the hell does Rowan have such a hard time admitting it?

“Well, listen,” Xiamara says, reaching over to rub my shoulder. “You are always welcome here, and don’t think you have to stay out in the garage. You and Rowan can use the house whenever you want. Use the kitchen to make food or the living room to watch movies—”

“Thank you,” Rowan interrupts, sounding like he really wants her to quit talking.

“He’s a good one, okay?” she tells me, pointing at Rowan. “People act like all he’s good for is kicking a ball around a field, but he’s a good man without all that. Remember that, Tommy.”

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