Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 71726 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71726 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Jack handed him his phone in case he needed it to text, but Simon pushed it away with a huff. He closed his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest.
“I want to b-be able to,” he said. “I just know I’ll be so shy and I’ll get all anxious and he’ll ask me qu-questions and I won’t be able to answer and th-then he’ll wonder why his baby brother is dating this f-f-freak who c-can’t even talk, and he’ll hate me because I’m not g-goo-good enough for you.”
Simon was glaring at his own hands as if they were the instrument of his betrayal. Jack took them in his own.
“He won’t think that. And it’s not true.”
“You don’t get it. You think because you like me he’ll like me, but—but people don’t like people who don’t act the way they expect. It makes them uncomfortable. And being uncomfortable makes them m-mad or makes them want to g-get away.”
Simon let out a miserable, shuddery breath and Jack felt an unfamiliar space open up inside him. A space that bloomed like a flower and belonged only to Simon. It hurt for him, it ached for him, it longed for him.
“Well, then, we’ll just have to keep hanging out with him until you get comfortable and he can realize how great you are.”
Hot hazel eyes snapped to his and Simon blinked uncertainly.
“You’d want that?”
“Hell yeah, I want that,” Jack said, pulling him closer.
Simon rested his forehead on Jack’s shoulder. He said something that Jack couldn’t hear and Jack tipped his chin up.
“Hmm?”
“My grandma wants to meet you too.”
Jack’s grin was instant.
“You talking about me to your grandma?” he teased.
“No,” Simon grumbled.
“I think you are.” He kissed the spot behind Simon’s ear that always made him shiver. “You totally have a thing for me.”
“Shut up,” Simon said mildly, and wrapped his arms around Jack’s neck.
* * *
Which is how Jack came to be struggling out of a Lyft outside of Simon’s house a few days later with two crutches, a bottle of wine, and a bouquet of flowers. Simon had offered to come pick him up, but Jack felt strongly that meeting the family meant arriving under his own steam and ringing the doorbell. Even if said steam was facilitated by a stranger he’d paid to stop at the grocery store so he could buy the wine and flowers.
Simon answered the door looking a little flushed.
“Hi. Wow, are those for my grandma? You really are trying to make a good first impression.”
Jack kissed him hello.
“This is for your grandmother.” He held up the wine. “These are for you.”
Simon accepted the bouquet with wide, soft eyes.
“No one’s ever gotten me flowers before.”
“I’m honored to be the first,” Jack said quietly and watched Simon swallow hard. Jack was honored to be Simon’s first in every way he could.
“Let the poor man in, dear.”
“Oops.”
Simon shuffled aside, revealing a small woman with a white bob, glasses the same bright blue as her eyes, and an apron that said THE ONLY THING I WANT YOU TO DO IS CHOP THE ONIONS.
“I’m Jean,” she said. “Welcome.”
“Great to meet you, Miss Jean.” He held out the wine to her. “I’m not sure if this goes with what you made, but if not I hope you’ll enjoy it another time.”
“Oh I didn’t make dinner,” she said. “Simon did. But you get full marks for textbook politeness. Did you google that?”
“Grandma!” Simon hissed.
Jack felt his cheeks heat. He actually had googled “meeting the parents” that morning, as well as “give wine to a host.” He’d never met a boyfriend’s family before. And since his own parents had died long before one would have met them, he’d felt at loose ends about the protocol. He hadn’t wanted to embarrass Simon.
“Um. Well.”
Jean burst out laughing, a warm, tinkling laugh that made Simon cough to hide a laugh too.
Jack smiled.
“Busted.”
Simon had made lasagna and salad and they ate in a dining room wallpapered with roses. Not the delicate, tracery roses of antique stores and flannel nightgowns, but bold, lush roses with thorns that could draw blood. It put Jack in mind of fairy tales and hidden castles.
Jean was lovely and funny and expressed such delight to hear about his work in illustrating that she jollied him into speaking about it in more detail than he usually would.
“Simon used to love a picture book about...what kind of dogs were those, dear?”
“Shepherds,” Simon said.
“Yes, shepherds. They lived in an old amusement park and would roam through the overgrown tracks of rollercoasters. It was quite beautiful.”
“Merry-Go-Hound,” Jack offered. “That’s a great book.”
“Yeah, but I never got why it was called that when the dogs were shepherds,” Simon said.
“Psh, publishing,” Jack said by way of explanation. “‘If it rhymes it climbs.’ The charts, you know?”
“But...it doesn’t rhyme,” Simon said.
“It rhymes with merry-go-round—never mind.”