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jt

L ife is officially perfect. I have a signed and accepted offer with the Eastern Greys, the local NBL1 team I had been dreaming to play with. Trey will be there with me too which makes it even more perfect, and I can’t wait to unleash the Sterling Double Trouble on our state conference. We start training with the team next month and I literally cannot wait.

I also finally had the courage to make an appointment with the school counsellor. Quinn walked me right to the door and waited for me outside while I had my first assessment, heart wedged up in my throat. This is the exact type of thing my parents warned me against doing—relying on the outside advice of someone without the correct ‘values’ as them.

But I’m slowly seeing now that these kinds of ingrained views are probably why I need to do this in the first place and I’m proud of myself for taking this step. We’ve set up a therapy plan and I am booked in to see the counsellor once a week for the foreseeable future. The counsellor also has an office outside of school if I want to keep going after the year ends and I am seriously considering doing that.

I also got official confirmation of my first ever perfect grade in the history of my academic life when Mr Peters handed out our science project grades on Friday. I let Quinn know exactly how pleased I was with that grade—which was admittedly mostly due to his genius mind—later that night when were alone.

Then, last weekend I officially passed my driving test, making me a free man with a fully-fledged provisional licence. This is cause for celebration enough but then my grandma and grandpa turned up at my house and, much to the forced enthusiasm of my parents, deposited with me the keys to their vintage 1962 sage green Valiant with its 200,000 plus miles on the odometer but an engine that is only ten years old.

I am officially the happiest person on the planet.

But all of this perfection fades into the background when faced with the facts — that above even all of that, I am utterly, hopelessly and completely in love with the smartest, hottest, sexiest man in the entire universe. And now I have a set of wheels to drive to his house which I take immediate advantage of the moment it is polite to leave my grandparents behind.

Quinn oohed and aahed over the car before I smooth talked him into a long drive down the coast in my brand-new vintage wheels before we parked at a lookout, and I convinced Quinn to go a cheeky round of celebration sex. Or two. I might be losing count by now cos if there’s one thing I know it’s that I cannot get enough of my smoking hot boyfriend. I am so horny for him.

Like, I think I’m obsessed with him.

It’s becoming an issue.

But now that my life is sorted, or at least semi-sorted, I’m also aware that it’s the pointy end of the academic year for Quinn. Yes, I too have final exams, but I think it’s probably clear by now my future does not lie the academic way. But Quinn’s certainly does, and I am trying so hard to respect the fact he needs to study to get the grades for law school.

So I’ve been spending a lot of time outside at Quinn’s house shooting hoops by myself or watching Emily in Paris with Amy, waiting for the snippets of attention he can lavish on me. But I don’t push, and I know when to leave him be in his own little genius world. Besides, I always get him alone eventually.

Then, on Saturday Gran invites us all out to lunch, and I am really excited. I’ve still only met her the one time at my basketball grand final, but I would like to make a better impression than the sweaty guy she met that night. Quinn smiles when I arrive on his doorstep in my nicest blue jeans and a white linen button down.

“Well, look at you,” he says, that half smile on his face as he looks me up and down. “My boyfriend scrubs up real pretty.”

“Just trying to up the classy stakes like you,” I shrug, noting the fact he always looks so effortlessly put together. Like he does now in those black jeans and navy v neck.

“You know I like how you dress,” he says as he pulls me in and pecks a kiss to my cheek. “And I like you even more when you’re completely undressed .”

“Is that so?”

“It’s very so. But I’m glad you’re still in your Nike kicks. Some things should never change.”

“I’m afraid basketball shoes make up my entire wardrobe,” I shrug guiltily.

“I love it,” he assures me.

Amy breezes into the hallway as the two of us are standing staring at each other and gives me a quick peck on the cheek.

“You look lovely, JT,” she enthuses.

“Thank you, Amy. As do you,” I reply.

“Charmer,” she chuffs, pulling on her ballet flats at the door. “I’ll meet you two at the restaurant. I’m heading out to pick up Gran.”

“See you there,” I smile, holding the front door for her. It’s just me and Quinn left then, and he wastes no time pulling me in for a proper kiss which we manage to make last until it’s time to leave.

See? Perfect. Every last bit of it.

***

Well, nearly every last bit of it. You see, despite the fragile ceasefire in my family home, there is no doubting my parents are struggling with our arrangement. Neither one of us has dared mention the Q word since our initial talk and it seems to be becoming this increasingly large elephant in the room whenever I am at home. Which admittedly is less and less these days— thank you Grandma and Grandpa for all of eternity for the freedom .

Amy has relaxed the sleepover rules too, so I am sometimes waking up and going to school with Quinn these days which helps minimise missing out on too much time with each other when he’s studying.

But the don’t-ask don’t-tell vibe at home is increasingly fraught with tension. Especially as Quinn is on my mind one hundred percent of the time and there has been many a moment I’ve had to pull myself up short from saying his name. There’s actually not all that much left of my life I can share with my parents anymore seeing as it has become all about him.

Throw in the fact my younger cousins have been bragging to Benji and Abbie that they have met ‘ JT’s boyfriend ’ and let’s just say there’s a lot of eggshells to walk on at home. I’ve overheard multiple arguments where my younger siblings beg for permission to meet Quinn while my parents just as strongly deny his very existence. I won’t say that doesn’t hurt a bit. Okay, a lot.

But the increasing distance between me and my family has not gone unnoticed which is probably why my parents corner me one night and beg me to come help them out at the church soup kitchen this Saturday. It’s something I used to love to do with them even though I haven’t volunteered for any church events in over a year. So I agree to go with them even though it means missing another family lunch with Gran.

We drop Benji and Abbie off at my grandparent’s house on Saturday morning and then head to the soup kitchen run by my dad’s church. It’s in a small suburban shopping strip not too far from Evergreen that I’ve never been to before.

This kitchen is bigger and brighter than the one in Morlee and Mum and Dad introduce me to the other volunteers as we get put to work. I’m given a vegetable peeler and sent to peel the stack of veggies on a stainless steel table in the middle of the room.

I start chatting with the other volunteers on veggie duty. I’ve never had any issues striking up conversations with other people and today’s no exception.

Eventually Mum moves to my side. We make small talk about school and final exams which are fast approaching. She asks about the Eastern Greys, and I tell her what I know which isn’t all that much as yet but I appreciate the fact she is making an effort.

I end up on serving duty beside my dad and I get to see him in action on this side of the fence where he really shines. Unfortunately, I’ve missed out on seeing this side of him for a long while now but he’s such a natural with the people who come to the soup kitchen for help. I see his kindness and care for those less fortunate and I both admire it whilst wishing I got to have some of this side of him at home too.

We step out onto the footpath after lunch, and I have to accept that working alongside my parents today has been fun and a good way to reconnect with them.

“Thank you for coming with us today, son,” Dad says, glancing at me with a smile.

“I had fun.”

“You always loved helping out at the soup kitchen back home,” Mum adds, a wistful note to her words.

“You know you’re welcome to come help out any time,” Dad continues easily and for the first time I don’t actually feel that pressure to recommit to the church from him. Just an easy acceptance that this is one area we both see eye to eye on.

We’re about to move on when I hear my name called from behind in a soft, very familiar voice, one that has my heart wedging in my throat.

“JT? Is that you?”

I turn on the spot to see Gran stepping out onto the footpath with her mobility aid, Amy at her side. My heart is pounding a mile a minute as my eyes instantly look for him, glancing up to read the name of the restaurant we’re standing in front of as the one we were meant to be meeting at today.

“He’s inside paying the bill for me,” Gran adds, obviously noting my darting eyes. “We missed you at lunch today, but Quinn told me you were volunteering at the soup kitchen. How lovely.”

My parents still beside me. If they hadn’t known who these people were before Gran’s innocent words, they certainly know now. But I don’t have time to think about that when my boyfriend suddenly steps into view, clutching Gran’s handbag in his arms. His eyes collide with mine and the smile hits them just before he steps towards me.

“JT,” he says. He’s still on his way, reaching out to touch me before movement at my back has him stalling. Quinn looks over my shoulder, face paling as he comes to a swift stop in front of me.

“Hi,” I stammer, the first words I’ve been able to make out as my two worlds suddenly smash into each other out here on the pavement. The silence is awkward and deafening but I gather my courage from somewhere deep within and clear my throat.

“Mum, Dad, this is Gran and Amy,” I begin, making awkward introductions with my hands. “And Quinn. This is Quinn.” My voice is raspy, like I’ve swallowed gravel, and I feel Quinn’s worried eyes on me, like he doesn’t know how I’m going to react. Well, that makes two of us. I don’t know how I’m going to react either.

Amy is the first to recover. “Well hello,” she says easily, pretending she doesn’t know how really bloody awkward this encounter is. “It’s lovely to meet JT’s parents.”

Dad clears his throat, ingrained manners forcing him to respond. “You too,” he says in a formal tone. “Ah, this is Penelope. And I’m David,” he adds right before he shocks the hell out of me when he holds his hand out to my boyfriend. “Quinn?” he asks.

Quinn is slow to react but quickly shakes my dad’s hand, his nerves evident only to me. “Nice to meet you, sir,” he says in a quiet voice.

My heart is pounding in my ears, sweat pooling down my back as Quinn glances my way and I don’t know where to look or what to do. Gran comes to the rescue once again with her sweet innocence and I want to hug the old lady.

“Will you boys help me to the car?” she asks, eyes on me and Quinn. “I have trouble standing for too long these days. It was very nice to meet you, David and Penelope. JT is such a lovely boy. You’ve done very well.”

I am finding it hard to breathe but Gran wheels towards us and we both move into gear, helping her wheel down the footpath to Quinn’s car — which I hadn’t even realised we were standing in front of the whole time. We both help Gran into the front seat and I’m aware of Amy still talking quietly with my parents, but I don’t have enough energy to spare for that.

Once Gran is safely deposited in the front seat, Quinn and I wheel her mobility aid to the back of the car. Quinn pops the boot which conceals us from our parents for the moment and I let out a deep breath.

“You okay?” Quinn asks, using the cover of the car to brush his thumb over my hand.

“I don’t know,” I admit. “That was … unexpected.”

“Yeah, tell me about it.”

I can feel his eyes on me, but I am spiralling a little bit here. “I better go,” I finally say.

“Come over later?” Quinn asks.

“Yeah,” I nod. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Okay. Call me if you need me,” he adds as we step apart and Quinn closes the boot. I find my parents watching us, Mum’s eyes on Quinn, but I can’t do much about that other than lean into the front seat to give Gran a goodbye hug.

I step back up to the footpath where Amy gives me a quick hug and a peck on the cheek before she is walking to the car. Quinn holds my eye before he slides into the front seat and next minute the three people I love like my own family drive away.

My parents say nothing, and I don’t know if that is worse than saying something, anything really. We make it to Dad’s car and the silence continues all the way home which is when I decide that silence is definitely worse.

They both seem to be in a state of shock, almost like seeing the Dayton’s today has made them suddenly real. Like maybe before, Quinn was just this imaginary villainous caricature they’d conjured up in their minds who corrupted their son. But now they’ve seen him — my beautiful, kind, oh-so handsome Quinn — and they’ve seen his mum and his sweet, lovely grandma, and they probably can’t reconcile the two in their minds.

I pace my bedroom for exactly five minutes before I grab the keys to my Valiant and hit the road. Amy answers the door and pulls me into a hug as I step inside.

“Oh, darling,” she says. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” I assure her. I glance up to see Quinn coming into view and I beeline for him, stepping straight into his open arms as he holds me close. He presses a kiss to the top of my head and suddenly everything feels okay again.

“What happened with your parents?” he asks.

“Nothing,” I tell him, not letting go of him yet. I just need a little bit longer in his arms. “They literally have not said a word to me since we saw you.”

“Is that weird?” Quinn asks.

“It was definitely weird while I was living it.”

I let out a deep sigh and tighten my grip, needing my boyfriend’s arms around me after the strangest encounter of my life. He knows exactly what I need too, rocking me softly as he peppers my head with kisses.

“What did you talk about with my parents?” I ask Amy as she sits back down at the dining table with her cup of tea.

“Well, we made small talk about the soup kitchen, and I asked your dad about the ministry,” she explains. “And then I bit the bullet and said how important you were to my son and that it would be nice to get to know them better.”

“You did?”

“Yes,” she smiles. “I even invited them around for a lunch sometime.”

“What did they say?”

“Well, your dad said that was very kind and they will consider my invitation.”

“Oh. Well, I guess that’s better than an outright no.”

“It’s definitely better than that,” Amy agrees.

I sigh again. “Thank goodness for Gran,” I chuff. “I don’t think she had any idea the awkwardness she was stepping into.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dismiss Gran like that. She knows exactly what she’s doing,” Amy grins at me which makes me laugh.

Quinn runs a soothing hand down my back, and I sink into him a little more.

“Come upstairs?” he says in my ear. I just nod and he drops his hold to take my hand, and we walk up the stairs together.

He pulls me down onto his bed the minute we’re behind closed doors and I lay my head on his chest as he recommences stroking my back. His other hand is in my hair, and I want to purr again. He makes me feel so good, like all the weirdness is leeching out of me the longer I’m in his presence.

“Today was weird,” I mull.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “How was it before we ran into you?”

“It was actually good,” I tell him. “I feel like I was actually getting somewhere with my parents. I don’t know if that effort has all been for nothing now.”

“I’m sorry,” Quinn says quietly which makes something in my insides clench. I lean up to look at him, seeing the worry in his eyes.

“Never, ever apologise to me again,” I say, words more forceful than I intended. “My parents’ reaction is their problem. Not ours. And definitely not yours.”

“Okay,” he responds, mouth tugging up in a half smile. “My sweet defender.”

I bite down on my smile.

“I fucking adore you,” I tell him, right before I lean down to kiss him. He kisses me back, slow and leisurely, tongues invading each other’s mouths, both of us knowing this is going no further than a kiss. But there really is nothing like laying on a bed, just me and my boyfriend, making out on a lazy Saturday afternoon.

I could sure get used to this.