You're Always in the Last Place You Look (18 page)

“Liar.” Locking the door behind us, he gave me a sidelong glance as we walked to the truck. “I’m not perfect, you know.”

“You’re right. You definitely are not the embodiment of my idyllic boyfriend.” I slapped my forehead. “What was I thinking?”

He shoved me. “
Thanks
...”

I laughed as I headed to the driver’s side. “Well, you don’t ride, therefore you are truly lacking in the perfection department.”

“I’ve sat on Chuck’s horse. All these people who ride, really how hard can it be?” he shoved his bag in the back.

I smirked as I waited for the glow plug light to shut off. “All right. Why don’t we go riding tomorrow after school?” Grace wouldn’t go faster than a walk with a beginner on her, but even at a walk, an hour in the saddle and Zane would be one sobered and sore boyfriend. Heat climbed my neck as I imagined massaging
all
his sore parts. I fired up the diesel, vowing to think about that later—in the privacy of my room.

“Can’t tomorrow. I have to work.”

Hand on the gearshift, I turned to him. This was news to me. “Work? You have a job?”

He rocked his head. “Sort of.” He didn’t elaborate, so of course I asked.

“It’s a job, or it’s not a job. Where are you working?” The
sort of
job had to be very part-time since we had been together most days after school. Not to mention he had committed himself to haying for Sam Winter, or rather his uncle had. I backed out of the driveway.

“I, um, clean house for someone once a week,” he said sheepishly. “But I skipped last week, so I have to go tomorrow. You know, just vacuuming, dishes, whatever needs doing.” He shrugged. “There aren’t many jobs here, so I took what I could.”

Heading down Oak, I nodded knowing there wouldn’t be much for an outsider until the first hay cut. Everyone worked on their family’s farm or a neighbor’s farm, and the few part-time jobs that came available were snatched by locals before a ‘Help Wanted’ sign was even a thought.

“Whose house are you cleaning?” For some reason Zane cleaning a house didn’t surprise me as much as I thought it would. But then Zane was my contradiction in terms. Nothing as he appeared. Far from anyone I would have imagined myself dating. And more—just
more
than anyone I had ever met. More intense, more intuitive, kinder, more hurt, more devastated, more forgiving, more alive...more beautiful.

“Just some guy that needs help.”

I glanced at him as I turned on to Morris Rd. and he glanced back, a hand traveling over his mouth. I wasn’t sure why he didn’t want to tell me, but somehow I knew he wouldn’t, even if I prodded.

“You could come with me,” he suggested. “You don’t have to help, unless you want too. Just keep the old man company.” He was watching me without watching me, waiting to see if I was going to ask again who the
old man
was. This couldn’t be a good thing.

I turned down the driveway before answering with an ultimatum. “I could. I won’t clean the bathroom though. And if I go, you have to let my dad give you a riding lesson Tuesday while Tye and I are practicing.” He wouldn’t tell me who he was helping, and I wasn’t about to divulge how tough an instructor my dad could be. Fair swap.

Parking the truck, I turned to him. “Deal?”

His lips pursed thoughtfully. “Why do I get the feeling I’ve just been played?”

I couldn’t help the smirk that tipped the corner of my mouth.

Chapter Twenty-One

Dinner was rather somber. Not that my family ever had scintillating conversations at the dinner table, but it was evident Mom didn’t quite know how to act around either Zane or I, so things kept stagnating. It wasn’t as if they could ask him about his family, which pretty much left school, and that subject was exhausted in three minutes. Zane evoked a genuine smile from my mom when he told her the creamed something on toast she had made was delicious. It was sweet of him, since I was pretty sure he was lying. The stuff tasted like peppered cardboard. Not her best attempt.

The day rolled over us the moment we settled on the couch to watch
The Internship
and, leaning against each other, I was asleep before Owen Wilson and Vince Vaughn even made it to Google.

*

Despite the name, our sleeper sofa was anything but comfortable to sleep on, whether pulled out or not. I awoke wedged between Zane’s back and the sofa, with a support bar digging in below my shoulders, wondering how I had gotten into this particular position.

“God, you’re a heavy sleeper.” Zane turned onto his back, releasing me.

Wincing, I stretched over his chest. “Yeah, I know. I guess it used to freak my mom out when I was a baby. Dad said she was always checking to see if I was breathing.”

With his fingers rubbing his eyes, he said, “I can believe it. You kinda fell behind me and didn’t move even once.” He blinked at me. “Do you even dream?”

“Why? Are you fishing?”

He smiled, wiggling until he wrestled me on top of him. “Maybe.” His hands slipped beneath my shirt, and traveled up my back. “You’re killing me right now, you know.” His fingers teased along the waistband of my sleep pants.
Yeah
,
and that wasn’t doing a damn thing for me
.

I played with the hair still curled along his face even after a nights sleep, then drew a fingertip over the wrinkle on his cheek left by the couch. “How so?” I croaked, surprised I could speak at all with my insides rioting out of control just from the slide of his hands along my skin.

He opened his mouth to answer, and I moved against him, knowing exactly how I was affecting him. The instant hard met hard I understood all the grinding in the halls, the reason girls had rubbed their parts against my parts—they just hadn’t had the right parts. And,
oh my
, Zane definitely had the right parts.

Hormones subdued brain cells. My heart shifted into overdrive, pushing my pulse to extremes I’d never imagined possible this early in the morning—all in the awed blink of my eyes.

I squeezed them shut. “
Ohhh
, I think that was a mistake.” My arms shook even though my hips were what I fought to keep still. If he moved, I knew I would lose the battle.

“No. It wasn’t...” The words fanned my face, then his lips met mine. He slid against me, hands splaying across my back, and every part of me moved at once, bringing myself closer to him.

It was a headlong, sensual give and take. Lips, hands, bodies entwined and moving, feeling, exploring, wanting—then needing, grinding, moaning. It was desire, pure and simple, and inspiring, and glorious.

He twisted, arched, tensed beneath me, and the last thing I felt was his breath ragged against my cheek. When I fell back to him, it was in a sweaty, panting heap of emotion like I’d never experienced before. I wanted to tell him I loved him, yet my mind warned against it. At least that part of me had begun working again. The rest, not so much.

I propped myself onto my rubbery elbows, and gazed down on his flushed face, his eyes like velvet in the aftermath of desire. A bead of sweat followed the path of his tattoo, taking on the appearance of dew along the glistening vine. He was so beautiful.

The back of his fingers traveled down my cheek, along my jaw. “You look all intense. What are you thinking?”

I touched his swollen lips. “
Wow
.”

His eyes glittered as he smiled, and murmured, “Yeah...,” just as my lips pressed over his. It was a soft kiss, a gentle kiss, one of feeling, of sharing, of finally finding myself with him. I wanted to laugh. I wanted to cry. But most of all I just wanted him.

“Ah-hum.”

Zane’s fingers tensed along my spine causing the sound to register in my ears. There was an audible
smack
as I pulled away, and sheepishly turned my head towards my father.

“Morning,” I offered, then saw his fingers strumming a mug of coffee. I cringed. “How much did you see?”

His lips thinned for a moment before answering. “More than I wanted too.” Taking a gulp of coffee he turned back towards the kitchen. “Your mom will be down soon. I’d recommend you hustle out of here, and we’ll talk after you clean up.” He strode off without even a second glance our way. I wasn’t sure if he was mad, or more embarrassed, but either way I was obviously in for a talking to.

“He’s going to hate me now,” Zane moaned, hiding behind his hands as I rolled off him. I sat on the edge of the sofa, dropping my own head into my hands. Caught by my father, how humiliating. But I wasn’t ashamed of what we had done, that in itself had been amazing. And although my mind was chagrined, my body was still running around screaming, “Yes, yes, yes!”

“I doubt he’ll go that far.” I wasn’t sure what else I could say because I’d never had to deal with this. Rubbing my face, I stood. “I’m going to hit the shower.” I looked back at him still hiding behind his hands. “Maybe you should wait in my room until my mom’s in the kitchen.” Knowing if he passed her on the way to the spare room upstairs, she would notice the wet area on his blue sweatpants. She wasn’t naive, and it was rather hard to miss.

He held out his hand. “Good idea. And just when she had started to accept me.”

I pulled him to his feet, and planted a light kiss on his frowning lips. “Yeah, well, I accept you, and that’s what matters.”

He smiled but his eyes remained dubious.

*

“Morning,” I said to Mom, as I tried to decipher whether she knew what had happened yet, or not.

“Good morning, dear. You’re dad said he needed to talk to you. He’s waiting in his office.”

I nodded as I poured coffee before heading into my father’s concrete bunker. She didn’t appear to know, or if she did, she was acting remarkably undisturbed by it.

“Close the door,” he said as I was actually closing the door.

“Dad, I’m sorr—”

He held up a hand. “I always wondered if I’d ever have to have this talk with you. I’m not going to pretend I know what you’re feeling, or going through, because I don’t. But I do remember what it was like to be a teenage boy, and without the girl there to keep things on an even keel, I can’t begin to imagine.” He smiled rather grimly as he rubbed his forehead. “Two boys. God, help me.” Letting his hand fall he looked at me. “It doesn’t matter what I say, you’ll do what you want. But as long as you live here, keep it out of the house please. Your mom and I would prefer to remain happily oblivious. And please be careful, okay?”

“You mean oblivious to the fact you have a gay son?” I hadn’t meant to sound so snarky. The gibe was aimed more at Mom, whom I stilled appeared to hold some resentment for, than Dad, he just happened to be the one in front of me. Dad’s face folded, and I immediately regretted my outburst.

“I didn’t mean it that way. Your mother and I talked, and we don’t have any problem with conventional affection.” I scoffed at that causing his eyebrows to rise before he went on. “But like any parent, we prefer to pretend our son is still our sweet innocent boy.”

Now my brows lifted. “Is that why you left me and Zane in the LQ overnight alone?” I meant it as a tease to make up for the prior comment, but Dad’s grimace told me he was regretting that decision.

“At the time I didn’t know your relationship was...quite so advanced.”

I gave him a reprieve. “It isn’t. Well, it’s maybe getting there. This morning—it was the first time—we haven’t...Anyway. What did you mean by conventional affection?”

A smirk tinkered with his lips over my blathering attempt to explain. I smiled meekly back. So yeah, talking to my father about anything sexual hadn’t become easier with age. If anything it was more difficult now that my sexuality had loped out into the light of day, or at least taken a few tentative steps out of the barn anyway.

“What you would do around us comfortably if Zane were a girl. Holding hands, sitting together—that sort of thing.”

“I’m more comfortable with Zane that I have ever been with a girl.”

He nodded. “You’re mother and I noticed. It was her decision not to wake you last night. And I quote; “They look so precious cuddled up together.””

“Oh Go—geez,” I muttered behind my hands, “she’s not going to treat him like a girlfriend is she?”

Dad laughed, the tension relieved. “Probably.” He scratched the back of his neck. “You know, she’s been reading everything she can find online. From having a gay son, to relationships, to health risks...” He shook his head, then laughed again. “I had to set the parental controls after she clicked what appeared to be an educational link, and ended up more educated than she ever wanted to be.”

I groaned. “She probably knows more about sex than I do now.”

“I’d hope so. You weren’t an immaculate conception you know.”

I made a face. Like my parents wanting to play ignorant, I tried really hard not to think about their sex life, or how often they must have
done it
trying to have another kid before they realized it wasn’t going to happen. Something about Mom’s ovaries, bad follicles—I didn’t even try to pretend to understand. However, now I found myself wishing I wasn’t their only child. I mean, how messed up was it to have your only son end up gay?

“You’re part of her, and she loves you.”

I nodded, remembering why I hadn’t taken Dad up on talking more. He was too damn intuitive. It was as if he could see inside me.

“You better get breakfast or you’ll be late for school. I’ll feed the horses.” He stood, and I turned to leave. “And Gabriel? Just be more discrete. And careful, I can’t stress that enough.”

I gave him a lopsided smile. “I will. At least you don’t have to worry about me getting a girl pregnant.” I winked at him, he gaped back. “Too far?” I asked.

“Ah, yes, I believe so.”

Zane was sitting at the kitchen table eating—devouring—Mom’s southern scramble, while she sat across from him sipping coffee. His eyes were rather wide and terrified looking.

“So, as gay boys go, is Gabriel cute?”

“MOM!”

She glanced over, and giggled behind her hand like a school girl. “I was just curious. From my standpoint you are very handsome.”

“
Mo-om
.”

Dad was chuckling behind me, and even a blushing Zane was snickering around a mouthful of food. Mom waved me to a chair as she set a plate down. I glanced at Zane, very intent on his food, and noticed his lip ring had reappeared. I hadn’t realized I had gotten used to it being gone, but now that it was back, he looked more himself.

“Do I even want to know what she’s been asking?”

He shook his head, trying to keep the wild grin off his face. I groaned again.

*

As the oaks swallowed us, Zane stopped and lit a smoke. “So, am I banned from the house?”

“No. It was you’re basic; “We know what teens are like, just don’t let us see it.” talk.”

Blowing his smoke out, he grinned. “He approves of you going forth and fornicating then?”

I laughed. “Not exactly. But he won’t be shocked if I do, they just prefer not to know about it, if at all possible.” As we passed Creeksbend I asked nonchalantly, “What did you and my mom talk about?”

He took a drag then waved his hand. “Oh, nothing much...” he said vaguely, then shook his head, blowing out his smoke. “Don’t leave me in the same room alone with her again though. She’s
really
working on understanding, and that woman is way too curious about way too much.”

“Like what? Other than how I stack up I mean.”

He stopped, chewing on his lip ring for a moment before answering. “For instance; is her son a good kisser?”

Oh God, she didn’t
. My mouth fell open, my eyes straining to stay in my head. Sucking his lips between his teeth to keep from laughing, he nodded. Slapping my hands over my face, a withering moan escaped me.
She did
. My mother had a horrid habit of being too curious about things she didn’t
really
need to know about. Not to mention an overly-intense nesting habit. She was always talking about how she hoped I had hordes of grandkids. God, I hoped she hadn’t mentioned
that
.

“Sorry,” I wrinkled my nose. “I think you just became my girlfriend.” Jesus, if everything happening wasn’t enough, now I had to guard my boyfriend from my mother. Maybe looking at him that way, made it easier for her, but still, how embarrassing for not just me, but Zane too. He shrugged and waved it off as if it was no big deal.

After burying his butt in a mole hill, he held the barbwire so I could crawl through. I returned the favor, and once he was among the alfalfa, he stood, and gazed towards the school.