Page 35 of For Fake's Sake and other stories

After an incredibly busy Sunday lunch, I slide into my father’s car. It seems that Pride doesn’t want to end. Rainbow-clad patrons packed out the tables. The tips have been awesome, which has put me in an even better mood.

“You look happy. Did you have a good Pride yesterday?” My father smirks at me, knowing exactly how excited I got for the parade and party atmosphere.

“I did. I met someone.” I bounce in my seat and even squeal a little bit. My parents are used to my theatrics, though. My mother said I came out of the womb waving jazz hands. From a young age, it has been obvious I’m gay, and I never had to have the nail-biting and nerve-racking talk with my parents that many kids had to go through. One day, I came home with a boyfriend, and that was it.

“Will you see him again?”

“Yep, he wanted to meet up again tonight. But I don’t want to miss dinner, and you know, maybe it would be too soon.” I shrug. I want to give Carl some thinking time. He may have doubts as the day wears on.

“That’s great, Spence. You deserve a nice man.” My dad always says this. He hates the thought of me with someone he doesn’t think is worthy of me.

A change in conversation will be a good idea before he asks what he does, what he likes, and, more importantly, how old he is. “What’s for dinner tonight?”

“Lasagne, I think. Your mum got fed up with roast dinners. She said they should be for the winter, not June. I don’t see what difference it makes. They’re both hot and cook in the oven.” He carries on muttering, mainly because he loves Mum’s roast dinners.

As we get close to my parents’ house, my phone pings with a message. I have a feeling it will be from Carl and eagerly pull out my phone.

Carl: Hey, little one. You’ve been on my mind all day. I’ve hardly managed any work. Can’t wait to see you again, Daddy x

I grin. Damn, this man is making me like him way too much. I’m going to jinx it before it can even start. We’re not at my parents’ yet. I have enough time to reply.

Me: Hi, Daddy. I was the same. It was busy, and I could hardly concentrate. I kept thinking about our night and the things you did to me.??

His reply is instant.

Carl: Naughty boy, you’re teasing me. You’ll be getting a spanking if you can’t behave. Daddy x

I let out a low chuckle, and my dad looks at me weirdly.

Me: Promises, promises.

Me: I have to go now. I’m at my parents’ house. Talk later x

“Oh good, your sisters are here already. We don’t have to wait hours for them to show up.” Dad sighs and indicates to turn off the road onto our driveway.

The house is as loud as always. My brothers-in-law sit in the living room with a beer, watching a football match, and my dad joins them. I wave and go straight to the kitchen. My nieces and nephew are on the trampoline out in the garden.

“Oh good, Spencer, right on time.” My mum lifts the lasagne from the oven and places it on a mat on the table, then takes another identical dish out. “I hope you’re hungry.”

“I’m always hungry, Mum.” I kiss her cheek and hug my sisters, who are busy setting the table.

The evening is the usual chaos—the kids squabble, my sisters talk over everyone else, and my dad and brothers-in-law discuss football. It’s fun, but after very little sleep last night, I’m happy to leave after the washing-up.

“Come on, son. Time to get you home.” My dad claps me on my shoulder.

After a torrent of hugs and kisses, I escape into the quiet of Dad’s car. We take a different route to my place, one that leads us past the Porsche and Aston Martin dealerships. The name Carl Simpson lights up both glamorous showrooms. No wonder he drives the car he does. Shit. Why didn’t I make the connection sooner? Unshed tears burn, and I blink. I knew it would be too good to be true. I can’t do this. I went to school with his son until his parents got divorced and they moved. He mentioned his son. For fuck’s sake, I went to Nathan’s thirteen’s birthday party—Laser Quest and pizza. I would’ve met Carl then.

My heart plummets into my gut. I can’t believe that the one guy I liked in months is someone I can’t have. It’ll be too weird. What will happen if it gets serious, if he wants me to meet his kids? No. I can’t do that. I’d cause far too many problems for him. It’s better to stop it now before it can become something more. Yeah, good luck with that. It has already become more.

My dad stops in front of my place, and I get out of the car. “I’ll speak to you in the week, Dad. Thanks for the lift.”

As soon as I’m inside my flat and locked the door, I throw myself onto my bed and bury my head in my pillow. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

After a long crying bout and feeling sorry for myself, I push myself upright and wipe my eyes. I try persuading myself they’re from anger and frustration at losing the chance of a good fuck, but I know damn well it’s because of how much I like Carl. A shower to clear my head before sending him the “it’s not you; it’s me” text will be a great idea. But the moment I stand under the warm water, I’m back in his shower this morning. The scent of his expensive body wash is everywhere: on my skin, in my hair. It hurts to wash it away. A sob breaks free, and I have to cover my mouth to stop the sound from coming out. Enough! Man the fuck up. He was a good shag. Leave it at that. I scrub my hair until my scalp hurts, but it does the job. I manned up.

I get into bed and grab my phone. Two messages are waiting, and I open the screen.

Carl: Hey, little one, I hope you had a good evening with your family. Let me know when you’re back and I can call, Daddy x

---