Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 82543 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 413(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82543 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 413(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Professional sports are different now, that’s for sure. It’s not like it was when my dads came out to the world. But at the same time, it hasn’t changed that much. The queer community has been waiting and waiting for the day where no one has to come out, but the reality is, while there are more out players now than there ever was, they’re still in the minority.
It’s still a media minefield when someone else comes out.
I don’t need that this year.
Brady knocks on my door and then points his thumb behind him. “Was that Levi Vanderbilt from back home?”
“Yep. He, uh, goes here now.”
Brady looks like he’s trying not to smile.
I sigh. “Go ahead and say it. We all know you and our dads are more obsessed with my one hookup in high school than I was.” I never confided in my family about the whole liking my first and only experience with dick. I kept up the no big deal charade for so long that I almost believed it myself.
And then I saw him again.
He throws up his hands. “I’m not going to say anything.”
“I don’t believe that for a second.”
“But I am going to do this.” He starts dancing and singing, “Peyton’s got a boyfriend.”
“Real mature, Bray.”
“Eww, don’t Bray me, Pey.”
I laugh. “Ah, but you forget, I don’t mind my nickname … Bray.”
“Do you think our dads wanted us to be twins? Pey and Bray? What kind of fucked-up Mother Goose, kids with rhyming names, is that shit?”
“I think they did it literally to piss you off. When you were born, they stood over you and said, ‘Let’s fuck this kid up by giving him a cutesy nickname.’”
“Now that you mention it, them naming us after famous football players who came before them is off brand for those two. I’m surprised they didn’t actually name us Shane Miller 2.0 and Marcus Talon 5000.”
“Why does Dad get the 5000?”
“Because he’s the most awesome one. Duh. Just ask him.” My brother points his thumb behind him again, and I freeze.
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, that’s why I left class early. You know, the class you didn’t go to because you were too busy being in your room with Levi Vanderbilt? They texted me to meet them outside class. They’re here. In our living room. I tell ya, though, I’m so glad the lecture halls don’t have windows like Montgomery Prep did. Remember when they’d turn up and press themselves against the side of our classroom, pulling faces?”
I wave my hand. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, rewind. You’re saying they’re here. In our living room. Where Levi just—”
“Left? Or … tried to?” He cups his ear. “I think I can hear them talking.”
“Motherfucker.” I charge past him.
His words fade as I practically run, but I still hear him say, “Today is so much fun.”
To my horror, when I rush into the living room, Levi’s standing there, his gaze ping-ponging around the room while my dads ask him relentless question after question without letting Levi get a word in.
“Levi, aren’t you late for your next class?” I approach them where they’re standing near the entryway and push Levi toward the door.
“Come on,” Dad says, “everyone can cut class every now and then.” Then his blue eyes that match mine stare me down. “Right, Pey? I was just telling Levi here that he looks good in your clothes.”
I’d argue how they know they’re mine, but considering Levi’s wearing a FU football shirt, I can’t really pull that off. “We had an accident.”
“Accidental no clothes … situation?” Pop asks.
I close my eyes and chant to myself. They’re my parents. They gave me life. They’re embarrassing as fuck, but I love them.
“A coffee accident,” I clarify. “Apparently, I think coffee looks better on clothes than it tastes.”
“It was my fault,” Levi says. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”
And even though we’re telling the complete truth, my dads both look like they don’t believe us. Their gazes flit between us, as if trying to read something deeper.
Dad turns to Levi. “We didn’t even know you transferred to FU. Your dad never mentioned it.”
“Oh. Umm. Yeah.” Levi rubs the back of his neck. “Uh, law school. Going to take the bar in California.”
“And you chose FU law.” Dad’s sentence sounds like a question, but I don’t think it is. More like an accusation. Like “Why FU when its law program is definitely not Vanderbilt-worthy?” Or “And your father let you do that?”
“I should go.” Levi turns to me. “Thanks for the clothes. I’ll return them to you … uh, another time.” It’s as if I can read his mind: when your dads aren’t visiting.
Levi beelines it to the door, and my dads wave and give very enthusiastic “Nice seeing you” and “I’m sure we’ll see you around.”
Once the door is shut behind Levi, I let out a breath. “You had to be embarrassing, didn’t you?”