Page 20 of Bet On It

Shit. He knew Spencer just as well, and that was most definitely disappointment in his voice.

“Spencer.” Stopping him, Ty pulled him close and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. He wasn’t wearing the loincloth; he knew it resembled a kiss you’d give your lover goodbye in the morning before work…and he didn’t care. With relief, he realized Spencer didn’t care either as the kiss was returned. “See you later,” he whispered, as they broke away.

Ty didn’t want to spend the night by himself, the thought bothering him more than he wanted to admit. So, when his dad told him to come for dinner, Ty was relieved to have something to do. He left work at the same time as his dad, pulling in the driveway behind him.

Walking in the door, Ty could smell his mother’s chicken pot pie, and boy, was this a night he needed comfort food. The table was already set and waiting; his mother was just taking warm rolls out of the oven, and she set those on the table next to the pitcher of iced tea. He had to admit, it was nice not to have to be the one to have dinner ready. Mainly because he sucked at cooking, but, this past week, all he’d done was wait on Spencer. That was the part of the bet he could definitely do without and couldn’t wait to be over.

He crossed the kitchen and gave his mother a kiss on the cheek. “Hey, Mom. It smells delicious in here.”

“Hi, honey. I’m glad you came over. I haven’t seen you in a couple of weeks.” She hugged his waist then they all sat down.

Dinner started with the usual talk about work. Ty and his father had a new client who wanted three computers and a fax machine/printer installed in their office next week. He tried to keep his mind on the conversation, but it kept drifting.

“Tyler, spill it.” His mother tapped the table next to his hand with her fork, looking concerned. She never called him by his nickname, insisting that isn’t what she named him. Still, being called Tyler always made him feel like he was in trouble.

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve been pushing your dinner around your plate for the last ten minutes. You normally would’ve been on seconds by now. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, just tired.”

“And I’m Lady Gaga.” He looked up at her and laughed. “What? I know who Lady Gaga is!” She smacked him on the arm. “I’m serious. Your father said you’ve been weird all week.”

“This is your doing?” He looked over at his father, feigning annoyance.

“What’s going on, honey? It’s obviously not work or your father would know about it. Are you having girl troubles?”

“No, Mom, I’m not having girl troubles.” That couldn’t be further from the truth.

“Then is it Spencer?” Ty choked a little on his iced tea, not ready for her to bring up Spencer. How did moms do that? “So, it is Spencer. Did you guys have a fight?”

“Mom, I’m fine, seriously.”

“Tyler…I’m worried about you.” Using his full first name again and a guilt trip…oh, she was good.

“It’s nothing, really. I’m just going through, sort of, a change, I guess? I don’t know how to describe it.”

“And it has something to do with Spencer?”

Ty could feel his palms beginning to sweat. He’d never been anything but honest with his parents; it had always been just the three of them, and he knew they would always listen. Why was this so incredibly hard to say to them? “You guys like Spencer, right?”

“Of course, we do, honey. Why would you even ask that?”

“And it didn’t bother you when I told you Spencer is…gay?” He said the word cautiously…like just saying it automatically labeled him, as well.

“No, why would it make a difference to us?” his father answered. “He’s a good guy. We think of him like another son.”

Those words from his father gave Ty the courage he needed.

“And, what if he were your son?”

“Tyler, you’re not making any sense.” His mother stared at him, obviously not getting this connection so easily.

He didn’t want to actually say the words. Saying the words out loud, to someone other than Spencer, made this so real. Once he said it, he couldn’t deny it anymore.

“I…that is, Spencer…and I…” Is it hot in here? Why is it suddenly so hot in here? He rubbed his damp palms on his jeans and looked back and forth between his parents, hoping they would get what he was trying to say without him actually saying it.

“Oh.” His father, apparently, connected the dots first and sat back in his chair, taking a rather large drink of his iced tea. “He…and Spencer…” he said to his wife, taking, yet again, another large gulp of tea.

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