Page 89 of Cherry Picking
“Yeah. I like this knucklehead a lot.”
It’s a confession but not an admittance. The feelings are there but no confirmation of a relationship or reciprocation.
It would be so easy to open my mouth and reply. So easy to reach over and pull him into a kiss, assure him that this is what I want.
Even though my hand twitches to reach for his, it stays clenched in my lap, eyes on my plate so I don’t have to meet the expectant stares boring down on me.
“Riley’s cool with it,” Griff says, saving me, but he pulls his hand back from the comforting grip he had on my leg. “It’s really not a secret.”
Parker sends me a funny look, but he keeps his word and doesn’t say anything. I almost wish he would.
I told Griff we could do this, but he’s following my lead, and right now my lead is a motherfucking coward.
I reach for his hand under the table, but he leans forward and folds them both on top.
If I want him at this moment, it needs to be in the open.
He’ll love me in private, but out here he needs more.
“Well,” my mother says, cutting through the tension. “My son could do a lot worse than an NAPH hopeful.”
She means it; I know she does.
Dad grunts, and my pulse skyrockets as he looks up from his phone where he’s likely reading game scores.
“As long as he keeps his game up, we could do with another professional athlete.”
Parker nudges me, tipping his head toward Griffin and motioning with his eyes to my parents.
“Now, dingus,” he mouths, and he’s right, isn’t he?
There’s no reason to be afraid.
Or apprehensive.
This isn’t coming out to the world. It’s my parents. My family.
The people who have been there for me even when the request was ridiculous.
That doesn’t make taking the words from my chest to my throat any easier.
Light chatter picks up amongst the table, but I can’t bring myself to participate. Time stretches on, and when the words don’t come, I steel myself for a last ditch effort on my sanity.
Actions speak louder than words.
My palms are a sweaty mess from being clenched under the table, and I swipe them on my pants leg before clasping one over Griffin’s hand in a single, unquestionable movement.
He doesn’t startle or utter a word, only squeezes my hand and continues on about the conversation him and Camry are having.
No one speaks, and I worry that it wasn’t enough. That I’m going to need some big, grand gesture to make it known.
But I catch a smile from my Mom as she breaks out into her happy hums. Dad’s eyes pass over our joined hands once, and he gives a subtle nod before going back to his phone. Parker leansover the table and meets Cam for a high-five … and the world keeps spinning.
Conversation and laughter continues.
No one asks any questions.
No one makes any comments.
