Page 62 of The Riley Effect

I run my fingers over the hands holding me. “I’m really happy your Mom invited me here. I can already tell your parents are all I’ve ever wished for.”

The last thing I want is for the next few days to be heavy. The holidays are always tough

“Why did Byron learn to cook, and you still burn toast,” I ask as he turns me so we are face to face. “A man that can cook is really fucking hot.”

“It was one time! I know how to cook,” he scoffs. “Byron loves it more, so I let him do the work.”

“Whatever you say, Jalen.” He takes my hand and shows me the rest of the apartment until we reach his bedroom. I’m not sure what I expected, maybe some Playboy posters, but I love that it still looks like hischildhoodbedroom. There are posters of Derek Jeter and the New York Rangers. Old Knicks tickets are taped to the wall. MVP trophies from all the youth hockey tournaments he’s won. It’s a look into his past.

I’m taking in Jalen’s achievements when I’m thrown on his bed. He slowly crawls up my body until his lips meet mine. He forces a whimper out of me when our tongues tangle. He reaches for the hem of my shirt, and I place my hands on his.

“Your parents are in the room next to us.”

“They know what’s going to happen if we’re staying in the same room.”

“But I just met them. Maybe give them twenty-four hours before we give them an opportunity to hear us having sex.”

“Fine,” He whines like a child.

I should be turned off by the fact that he is behaving like a little kid who’s just been told he can’t have ice cream, but I can’t say that I don’t love the fact that he can’t keep his hands off me.

“I was thinking we could go on a walk,” Jalen drawls. “I had planned to show you around the block before you rejected me.”

“Oh my god, stop being a baby.” I push him off of me. I put on my boots and face Jalen. “Let’s go!”

31

Jalen

The faint smell of my mom’s famous caramelized bacon wafts through my room. Without opening my eyes I roll over ready to pull Ivy’s body into mine. Instead of finding the soft curves of my girlfriend, I pull in a pillow that does nothing to help the morning wood I’m sporting.

I pull on a pair of sweatpants and set off on the dubious task of finding my girlfriend in the two-bedroom apartment I grew up in. The old hardwood floors creak, shocking me out of my haziness. There was a point in time when I could tell Byron which floorboards to avoid so we didn’t wake up my parents as we snuck out.

I hear Ivy before I see her. Leaning against the wall that separates the kitchen from the living room I take in the sight of my mom doubled over in laughter.

“It smells so good in here,” I tell the women in my life. “Is that bacon?”

“It is!” Ivy informs me while wrapping her arms around my torso. I place a kiss on the top of her head before pulling her into my lap as I take a seat at the table.

“Ahh, young love,” Mom almost sings as she flips the bacon in the skillet.

Ivy’s body stiffens in my lap. Tragedy and love are synonymous to Ivy, and it’s hard for her to imagine a world where she gets to live out her life with the man she chooses to love. That’s what this week is about for us. I plan to show her that I’m the type of man that will always be there for her. I know I will because I’m falling for her. I think part of me knew I would when she reluctantly accepted the invitation to the party olympics.

She is kind, smart, and loyal. My whole life, I have aspired to find love like my parents. I’ve enjoyed all the perks that being a Division I college athlete has to offer, thinking that one day, years down the line, I’d find the girl I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. When Ivy came into my life, she brightened a world I didn’t realize was dull.

“What are your plans for today?” My Mom asks from behind the stove.

I shift Ivy in my lap. A grin tugs at her lips when she realizes I’m using her to hide my hard-on. “I told Coach Hale that I’d come to the rink today. He has the eight-year-olds there this afternoon.”

“It’s hard to believe that’s the age when you started playing. I can still remember you begging me to quit after your first practice.”

“You never told me this story,” Ivy says, her voice laced with curiosity.

“Most kids start learning to skate well before they turn eight, so when I realized how clumsy I was on skates compared to everyone else, I decided I was done. I wasn’t used to being the worst athlete on the team.”

“Andre wouldn’t let him,” My Mom cuts in. “Told him that he signed up to be part of a team, which meant sticking to his commitment. He told Jalen if he didn’t want to play the next year, that would be perfectly okay.”

“The best thing my dad ever did for me was to push me to continue that season.”

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