Page 115 of The Stud

“I will never admit to anyone other than those in this room that I can quoteA Knight’s Talein my sleep,” Dad announces on a two-palm surrender.

“She can do that too,” Tanner teasingly jabs a thumb in my direction.

I forgo a snarky retort to investigate an unfamiliar sight, “Is that new?”

“Yeah!” Dad excitedly explains. “You know I like to special order us something from Germany every year for your birthday, andthis year,my contact picked us out a Schwarzbier or-”

“Black lager,” my boyfriend unexpectedly translates.

There’s no stopping Dad from cocking his head in curiosity. “You speak German?”

“A tad.” He fingers display a tiny wedge. “One of the benefits of lacing up with mates from all around the world is unintentionally becoming a bit multilingual.”

“I like that,” approves the man I’m usually fairly happy to see.

“AndI would liketo know,” my voice takes a slightly more serious tone, “what that stack of papers hiding underneath the fruit platter is.”

Guilt glides through Mom’s gaze as she quietly admits, “We thought that maybe…it would be a good time…to…discuss…your replacement surgeon options.”

“Replacement surgeon?” my boyfriend unhappily inquires. “Why do you need a replacement surgeon?” Even considering a reply isn’t an option. “And why am I unaware?”

“Can we talk about this shitpostfood?” I unwind my arms and tuck the edges of his long sleeves into my palm. “Pretty sure I see stuff for a pancake showdown and the last thing I need is you throwing off my style.”

“My apologies,” escapes him in a confused state. “What?”

“Oh, they have a whole All Star competition thing anytime pancakes are to be made,” Mom casually explains as Dad collects the ingredients. “Who can flip them the highest-”

“Me,” is attached to a cocky finger point inward.

“Who has the best showmanship-”

“Again me,” hits their ears during my backing up towards the island where he’s unloading items.

“Who can fit the most silver dollars in their mouth-”

“I will be crowned king of that one,” Tanner declares and makes his way over to us.

“Don’t count yourpollosbefore they’ve hatched,novato,” Dad warns on a slam down of the pancake box mix. “That’s theonecompetition I always win.”

“Perhaps in the past when you did not have an adequate adversary,” my favorite player cockily declares while retrieving proper cookware.

“Fuck you,” juvenilely springs free.

“Not twice in front of us,” Mom playfully pokes.

“Mom!”

Loud laughs escape them all along with a tiny golf clap from Dad.

I love my parents.

I really do.

They don’t shy away from inappropriate jokes or topics or comments.

Sex isn’t a taboo subject.

It wasn’t even that when I was a teen.

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