“You’re not into twinks,” Danny supplied for me.
“Yeah.” It wasn’t as if I’d never hooked up with one, but the more I got to know myself—and I let myself be who I was—the more I realized it wasn’t what really called to me.
“You want someone who could maybe hold you down as easily as you could him?”
My gaze shifted away, but my dick was all, fuck yes.
“There’s nothing wrong with that, Jonathan.”
“I know,” I replied, but did I? Did I really?
His voice was low, only for me, when he added, “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be fucked either. There’s a stigma attached to it that I’ll never understand, even within our own community sometimes.”
I couldn’t help but look around. No one was paying attention to us. The tables beside us were empty. I wasn’t thrilled that we ended up on this subject in the middle of a restaurant, but I appreciated having Danny to talk to about it. I appreciated hearing what he had to say, even if I felt uncomfortable.
“But also, just because he’s a twink doesn’t mean he can’t top the hell out of a guy. It’s one thing if you’re attracted to a specific look, but if you decide you’re searching for a top, remember, you can’t tell simply by someone’s body type.” Then, without me having to say it, Danny somehow realized I was ready for a subject change. He plucked a fry from his plate. “Here, try it.”
I took the greasy treat from him and ate it, the taste of parmesan bursting on my tongue. “Holy fuck, that’s good.”
“Right? I love their fries. You haven’t tried the ones on your plate either yet. If you don’t want me to eat them all, you better get going.”
I smiled and ate. While we laughed and talked and devoured our food, I realized how much I needed someone like him in my life…and how much I already really liked Danny.
CHAPTER TEN
Danny
After dinner, Jonathan and I walked around Midtown. I showed him my favorite spots for food, drinks, and this little antique store I loved. When we got back home, I asked him if he wanted to watch a movie, but he declined and went to his room. Disappointment swept through me. I hadn’t been ready for our evening to end.
But what was I going to do? Tie the guy up on my couch and force him? So I fucked around on an app for a while, but when a guy asked if I wanted to meet up, I ended up saying no. He called me a tease and said I wasted his time. Ya know, just a normal night.
And now it was Sunday, and I was heading home to visit my mom and sisters. I invited Jonathan—which was maybe a little weird as the only guy who ever went home with me was Elijah—but he said he was hanging out with Will anyway.
It was about a forty-five-minute drive to my childhood home, which gave me forty-five whole minutes to obsessively think about Jonathan. I didn’t know why his admission about his type had shocked me so much. Maybe I had my own biases to unpack. Or was it not what he’d said, but that he’d said it to me? I was pretty sure it was the first time he’d voiced the words, and he’d chosen me. Shit like that meant something to me. Jonathan was letting me in, and I would do my best not to let him down. Part of me liked being counted on. I had been known to thrive on that. Something about being important to people made me feel good, special even.
And that was not something I planned to admit to anyone else. Honestly, I wasn’t sure how I felt about it.
Before I knew it, the minutes had flown by in Jonathan-thought, and I was pulling my car into the driveway at Mom’s house. Monica’s and Eliza’s cars were already out front. We tried to get together as a family once a month, which would be difficult with the upcoming baseball games.
I got out of the car, knocked on the door, then slowly opened it to the sound of the three of them speaking and the rich smell of Mexican spices in the air. God, I loved Mama’s home-cooked meals. She looked up from where she stood by the dining-room table, which was across from the kitchen in the open-concept home. My sisters sat in chairs in front of her.
“There’s my boy,” Mama said.
“There’s my boy,” Monica mocked.
“Hey, Mama.” I hugged her while giving my sister the finger behind her back. We were close, Monica and I, but we liked to give each other shit. “What are we having?”
“I made a bunch of tamales yesterday and started the consommé for birria tacos. I got up early to get it going again.”
My stomach growled in response. Fuck, I was lucky. She knew birria tacos were my favorite. “Mama loves me more than you,” I teased my sisters before Mama smacked me upside the head. “Ouch. I was kidding. I know you don’t have a favorite.” Parents totally had favorites. No one would make me believe differently. Parents were also supposed to love their kids more than anything, but if that was true, why did people like my dad leave? My mom worked hard to give us all she could in life, and she would always be my favorite person in the world because of it. She’d been working at the same restaurant for thirty years. She didn’t own it, but she might as well have. She had cooked for and run the damn place most of her adult life.
When I’d come out, she’d been nothing but supportive. I knew she would always love me.
“How’s everyone doing?” I asked.
Monica rambled on about her job at the bank and Eliza about work and college. Eliza was the extra-smart one. She loved learning, and I had a feeling she would find a way to always be in school if she could, even if that meant running herself ragged. Mama was proud of us, her three kids who were all making good lives for themselves. It was what she’d wanted for us.
We all talked and laughed for a while, the way we always did when we got together. Eventually, Mama went back into the kitchen to finish cooking, while my sisters and I continued chatting. Some of my favorite times were with my family, and for some reason, it made me think about Jonathan. Was it like this for him and his family? I didn’t think it was. Maybe before he’d come out, though? I knew his mom accepted and loved him, but things were strained with two of his brothers. Before, had they been as close as I was with Monica and Eliza? I might not see my sisters or talk to them every day, but there was a tight bond between us.
“Hello? Earth to Danny.” Monica waved a hand in front of my face.
“Sorry, I was spacing off. What did you say?”
“Mama said lunch is done, and you’re typically the first one in the kitchen, so I was confused.”
“Ha-ha.” I wrapped an arm around her shoulders as we went to the kitchen. “I was thinking about my roommate.”
“Oooh, is he hot?”
“He’s gay.”
“Damn it! All the cute ones are.”
I chuckled. “How do you know he’s cute?”
“I don’t, but that’s usually my luck. They’re either gay or assholes.”
Mama set tacos, a tamale, rice, and beans on our plates, and gave us each a bowl for the consommé. She cooked the beef in a pot with peppers and other veggies, then took the meat out, shredded it, and put it into tortillas with cilantro and onion. From there she fried them, and we dipped the tacos in the consommé. It was basically the best food in existence.