Page 26 of Faking It Right
Dad gave me and Harley extra-large portions, the cheese bubbling on top. “I figured you two need to replenish your energy after your vigorous afternoon,” he said with a wink that made me wish death would hurry the hell up and take me.
My face burned hotter than the lasagna as Harley accepted his plate with a grateful grin. “Thank you, sir. I worked up quite an appetite.”
“Dad!” My protest came out as a squeak. I focused all my energy on trying to teleport myself to another dimension while Sawyer laughed so hard she nearly choked on her iced tea.
“What?” Dad asked, the picture of innocence as he served Mom next. “Growing boys need their protein.”
Harley snickered beside me, and I could practically hear the dirty joke forming in his mind. I elbowed him hard in the ribs before he could say whatever cheeky comment was on the tip of his tongue.
“Ow,” he complained, rubbing his side. “What was that for?”
“You know exactly what that was for.” I stabbed my fork into the lasagna like it had personally started the rumors about me getting dicked down when all I'd gotten was a hand job.
“You two are adorable,” Mom said, beaming at us like we were the cutest kittens she had ever seen. “I always knew you’d make the perfect couple.”
I took a large bite to avoid responding, nearly burning my tongue. Mom’s lasagna had always been the eighth wonder of the culinary world, but I might as well have been eating cardboard drenched in tears since my dignity had just packed its bags and moved to Fuckofflandia.
Sawyer laughed at my plight. “I guess we shouldn’t be surprised since Ryker’s always been emotionally constipated.”
“Hey, I’m not emotionally constipated simply because I don’t feel the need to broadcast my feelings like a reality show,” I shot back.
“Says the guy who sobbed for three days when his goldfish died in third grade,” my sister countered.
“Bubbles was a good fish! He deserved a proper send-off,” I defended myself, grateful for the change of topic.
Dad chuckled. “Remember how he insisted on a full funeral service? Made us all wear black and everything.”
“I was eight!” I protested.
“It was very sweet,” Mom said. “You’ve always had such a big heart, biscuit.”
“Yeah, and now that big heart belongs to Harley,” Sawyer teased, making obnoxious kissing noises with Gia.
I rolled my eyes, but Harley took it in stride. “I’m very lucky,” he said, his voice softer than usual. Something in his tone made my stomach perform acrobatics so complex it would require its own chapter in an anatomy textbook titledWhat the Absolute Fuck Is Happening in There?
“We’re all lucky to have Harley in the family now as Ryker’s boyfriend,” Mom declared, raising her glass. “To Ryker and Harley!”
Everyone lifted their glasses, and I tapped mine against Harley’s. When our eyes met, my lungs forgot how to do their one fucking job, as if his gaze contained the instructions manual but was keeping it hostage out of spite. It was the physiological equivalent of sticking a fork in a toaster.
Gia passed the garlic bread to me with a smirk that spelled trouble. “So, how’s the honeymoon phase treating you? Based on how late you are to dinner and how flushed your cheeks are, I’d say pretty well.”
I fumbled with the basket, nearly dropping the damn thing. My fingers suddenly forgot how to function like normal human appendages. Just as it tipped precariously, Harley’s hand shot out, saving it from a tragic fate on the floor. Our fingers brushed, and that innocent touch made my nervous system go completely feral like a house cat that had discovered catnip for the first time. Sparks flew, warning bells screamed, and I’m pretty sure my brain voided its warranty.
“I’d say it’s going fantastic,” Harley answered for me, his hand squeezing my thigh under the table. “Ryker’s full of surprises.”
The way he emphasized “surprises” made it clear he was alluding to our earlier escapades. My mind flashed back to the feel of his skin under my fingertips, the taste of his lips, and the sounds he made when I touched him. Heat crawled up my neck and into my face, igniting what had to be the most obvious blush in human history.
“Can we discuss literally anything else?” I attacked my lasagna like it had personally offended me.
Sawyer’s eyes glinted with mischief. “Sure! When did you first realize you wanted to jump Harley’s bones? Was it during one of those late-night study sessions where you were ‘just friends,’ or did you walk in on him jerking off in the shower and decide to join in the fun?”
I huffed, dropping my fork with a dramatic clatter. “That’s not what I meant by ‘anything else,’ and you know it.”
“What?” Sawyer blinked with exaggerated innocence. “I’m trying to piece together the timeline. One minute, you’re straight as an arrow, and the next, you’re upstairs making enough noise to wake the neighbors.”
“Our neighbors are twenty feet away,” Dad pointed out, far too entertained by my mortification.
Sawyer’s grin turned triumphant. “Exactly. And they’re about to get an education on how good a sexual awakening can feel.”
