Page 66 of Unwritten Rules
“So, I should fit in?” It’s teasing, the way Eugenio says it, like Zach can just bring him to his parents’ Baltimore split-level. Can introduce him as no more than a teammate, afriend. “I shouldn’t have asked you like I did. I’m sorry. They’re important to me. You’re important to me.”
And Zach looks up at that, at where Eugenio is sitting, the affirmation settling into Zach’s belly, warming him.
“You look surprised,” Eugenio says.
“Do I?”
“You get this—” Eugenio reaches out, tapping a finger lightly to Zach’s forehead “—line right there. It’s...” He feels around for a word, and Zach’s brain supplies a number of them:sweet,goofy,panicked. “It makes me wonder why other people haven’t told you that before.”
“You mean, what’s wrong with me?” Zach can’t look at Eugenio as he says it, concentrating instead on the even stitching of the bedspread. He picks at the edge of a thread, his chest tight from embarrassment at having said that out loud.
“More, what was wrong withthem?”
“Oh.”
Eugenio kisses him, something soft, leaning over the containers of cake he bought, his forehead resting momentarily on Zach’s. “I want to tell my parents. About us. About me.”
“Do you think they would be okay with it?”
“I don’t know. I think they might be. But it feels worse to keep it from them.”
“Even if they were fine with us being together, it’s not like we can tell them and expect them to keep it a secret.”
Eugenio’s eyebrows draw together at that. “They would if I asked them to.”
“Mine wouldn’t. Or they might because they didn’t want people to know, not because I asked them. Or they might telljust one person, and then I’ll walk into some family function, and everyone’ll look at me and just know.” Zach’s throat goes tight at the end of it, and he blinks a few times to wet his eyes, suddenly dry and stinging in the over-air-conditioned hotel air.
“Zach.” Eugenio’s voice isn’t low, but his expression is worried. He collects the containers of cake, setting them on the nightstand, and shifts over. It’s not a large bed. Their shoulders touch, Zach lying on the mound of excess pillows, body feeling like he’s had all the air let out of him.
“There’s this fundraiser in Baltimore my parents are holding over the break,” Zach says. “I don’t really want to go but I am. Morgan and her wife are coming to it. We were gonna go to the beach after.”
“Do you want me to come with you?”
“I thought you were going to look for a new apartment.” Because Eugenio mentioned moving out of Gordon’s to some place where they didn’t need to worry about a dozen people showing up unannounced.
“I can do both.” Eugenio reaches for Zach’s hand, fingers circling his wrist lightly, forefinger stroking over the tendons there.
“You know we couldn’t be together while we’re there.” Zach imagines what that’ll be like—in his parents’ house, Eugenio a respectful distance away from him, wanting to touch him and not being able to. If his parents will surprise him with one of their friends’ daughters in an effort to set him up. If Eugenio will have to watch and pretend that it doesn’t bother him. That Zach will have to do the same.
“That’s okay. Or not okay, but I can probably survive it.”
“And they’ll probably stick you in a guest room with the world’s shortest bed.”
“Where would you be sleeping?”
“In another guest room on an even shorter bed,” Zach says, and Eugenio laughs at that. “I’ve never brought anyone home. Not like that.”
“Not even a ‘friend’?”
“No.” And Zach thinks about all the guys in high school he played on the team with—the ones he wanted to look at and didn’t, purposefully looking past them. The guys in college or the minors, the ones on the road he met through Grindr or at bars. None of whom he can imagine sitting in his mother’s kitchen, answering her unending questions.
“If it helps, I’ve never met my boyfriend’s parents. So that’ll be a first for me too.” Eugenio’s hand is still in Zach’s and Zach adjusts, threading their fingers together, his heart at his ribs, and the ceiling above him a little out of focus.
“It does help.” His voice is unsteady; he takes a few breaths. Next to him, Eugenio moves closer, a warm line at his side. “There might not even be an available flight.”
Eugenio withdraws his hand. He pulls out his phone and makes Zach find his flight number. He books a ticket on the same flight, an open seat in first class a row ahead of where Zach is sitting. “I can return it for up to twenty-four hours if you change your mind.”
“I kind of can’t believe you’re doing this. It’ll probably ruin your vacation.”
