Page 78 of Play Your Part

“Read the comments section of Twitter, Volk. You’ll see.” Zach leaned back in his seat. “Actually,don’tread those comments. People say the nastiest stuff about you.” His stress of the Ain nasty made the word sound worse. “And I mean nasty as in—” Zach stopped abruptly to make vague sexual gestures with his hands.

“Yeah, we got it,” I said curtly, not needing a reminder of Alexei’s desirability.

Alexei grinned at me. “Is someone jealous?”

“Of internet randos wanting to…” I trailed off, not knowing how to voice Zach’s proclamations or wanting to use his terrible hand gestures. “I’m the one who has you at my house for Thanksgiving. What is there to be jealous about?”

That one day he’ll belong to someone else,the stupid voice in the back of my head unhelpfully supplied.

Alexei tapped the steering wheel once with an open palm, then stepped out into the sunlight, leaving Zach and me to trail behind him. Alexei waited for me to open the front door. My father yelled “In here” from the main room as soon as it opened. Alexei slipped his hand into mine before we reached the room.

The little zing from that contact quickly turned to dread as he tightened his grip almost to the point of discomfort after seeingbothof his parents sitting with my father in front of a lit fireplace. I’d seen his mother in pictures—tall, beautiful, blonde—but not his father, though I could have picked him out of a crowd due to their resemblance.

Alexei spoke in Russian, which sounded fast and angry, but I couldn’t be certain given that I didn’t understand a lick of the language. He gestured toward his father with a pointed finger, which led his father to jump in the conversation between Alexei and his mom. Alexei’s face turned slightly pink, his voice raising several decibels to be heard over his dad’s deeper, booming voice.

Zach leaned into me. “You’re right. No one cares what I’m wearing.”

I slithered my hand out of Alexei’s grip and pulled at Zach’s jacket sleeve to guide him away from the Volkovs. My dad rose from the couch to embrace me in a big hug. “Kenny, Happy Thanksgiving.”

I wrapped my arms around him, taking every ounce of comfort he offered.Safe.If anything went wrong, I would be taken care of. Not everyone was so lucky. “Happy Thanksgiving, Dad.”

“Sir,” Zach interjected, pushing his hand toward my father. His voice was all business with no trace of his usual playfulness. “Thank you for inviting me to your home.”

I elbowed him in the side. “Cut it out, Briggsy. You don’t need to put on a show.”

My father’s eyes danced with amusement, but he accepted the business handshake from Zach. “It’s commendable that he wants to make a good impression. It’s good to see you, Zachary.”

I coughed, trying to hide my laughter at my father’s use of the name Zach had just ordered me to never call him. Zach didn’t correct him.

“Did you know Alexei’s father would be here?” I asked.

“No,” he answered. “They arrived fifteen minutes ago. Is this… going to be a problem?”

I looked back at the Volkovs, who all stood in a close circle, still speaking away in Russian.

Not wanting to intrude, I quickly turned back. “Maybe. It’s complicated.”

My father’s forehead wrinkled. “Is he… is he treating you well?”

We didn’t have practice discussing my romantic relationships. I never brought anyone I dated home to meet him, unless my prom date—a boy I went out with only once more—counted.

“I wouldn’t bring him here if he wasn’t.” And that, I realized, was true. Not like with Justin, who I clung to as a lifeline, even though he offered me the barest of minimums throughout our relationship.

Lying to my dad about my relationship with Alexei didn’t feel good. The least I could do was tell the truth about the details. Though,I’m trying to stop wanting to kiss his face off every time we’re in a room togetherwasn’t the kind of truth I ever wanted to tell my dad. Instead I offered, “Don’t worry, I’m happy.”

He nodded, those wrinkles scrunching even more. “You went to the arena for him.”

“How did you—” I stopped abruptly, realizing he’d seen the photo someone snapped of Alexei and me hugging in the middle of the Wolves bench, looking the picture of a happy, supportive couple. “I didn’t know you had social media.”

“Deandra showed it to me when we had lunch the other day.”

“You had lunch with Deandra?”

“She’s a real go-getter, that one. She cornered me in the hallway and asked me to lunch so we could talk about her marketing ideas.”

That sounded like something she would do, all right. If only my dad knew how far Deandra’s creativity extended, like conjuring an entire relationship into being for damage control. If it didn’t involve his daughter, I had no doubt she would have told him, and he would have appreciated the effort.

“And I came up how?”

---