Page 108 of The Frathole
We get to work. I start slicing up some onion, and Marty cuts up a garlic clove on the other side of the counter. I notice I’m cutting without much thought, but Marty’s precise with his chops.
“That’s really adorable, watching you cut those like you’re gonna get graded after.”
He sneaks me a look.
It’s such a little exchange between us, but it’s the kind of moment I live for with him. Just us being playful, giving hell, but now in a way that makes me feel like we’re the only two people in the world.
Next, we make the marinara, then sear the chicken in a pan. I direct him on how to brown it just right.
“It’s almost there,” I say, inspecting his work.
“I’m not doing too bad, am I?”
“Not even a little bad. You deserve a kiss for how well you’re doing it.”
He’s grinning ear to ear, and all I can think is what good boyfriend shit this date night is. It’s a moment that allows me to fully appreciate how much I enjoy having him in my life.
“Mom comes back from Europe next week, so I was gonna see if she and Dad wanted to get together.” I slide my hands around his waist and tug him close to my pelvis, rubbing my face against the side of his neck, kissing. “I was thinking that would be a good time to tell them about my new boyfriend.”
He turns to me, his expression too serious for my tastes. “You sure?”
“What does that mean?”
“I don’t want you to feel rushed or like you have to because my parents know.”
“That’s not why I’m telling them. I want to bring my boyfriend around whenever the hell I feel like it.”
His lips curl into a smile.
“You know,” I go on, “it’s not gonna be as easy with holidays now that we’re a couple. We’ll have to start sorting out when to take turns with each other’s parents, and then birthdays…probably get on each other’s nerves because you’ll want to go on a family trip without me.” I kiss his neck some more, and while I enjoy the scent of his cologne, he tilts his head, stretching his neck so I have more to cover.
“You keep doing that,” he says, “and I’m not gonna be able to spend many vacations away from you.”
“That’s the plan.”
He snickers. “And you know we have to finish this chicken at some point, right?”
“Give me a kiss, and I’ll let you go,” I say like it’s a stick-up.
He offers the kiss, and I grunt, prying free of him, when I detect a smell that isn’t his cologne.
And suddenly I realize we might have been kissing for a little too long.
I glance over at the chicken. “Uh-oh…”
So my great date-night idea goes south real fast, and despite attempting to save the chicken, we wind up with only a salad, which we enjoy before lying on the couch, rewatchingAlienwhile we wait for pizza.
Mart uses my chest as a pillow, the way he usually does. He stirs before angling his head to look up at me. “Should have known I would mess up date night.”
But with my boyfriend pressed up against me, gazing up at me with that beautiful smirk across his lips, I know there’s nothing elseI’d rather be doing right now. “It was actually aperfectdate night.”
*
These past fewweeks—staying with Mart at Dax’s and working with him on the build—have been amazing. And I’m having a great time down at the shop with Troy and my coworkers, working on cars and goofing off.
If I’d gone on to the NFL, this wouldn’t be my life. I’d be too busy training, gearing up for the season. Not goofing around, enjoying a carefree date night, and having lengthy fuck-and-cuddle sessions. I’m sure other guys would trade it all for the NFL—hell, at one time, I would’ve done the same. But today, this is right where I want to be. Living a much more relaxed life with my guy.
My guy?
