Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 35498 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 177(@200wpm)___ 142(@250wpm)___ 118(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35498 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 177(@200wpm)___ 142(@250wpm)___ 118(@300wpm)
“I wouldn’t call it trendy.”
Oliver glanced down at their hands. “My family would. A trend. A phase. To be honest, they actually don’t like to acknowledge that I’m gay at all.”
His admission was quietly and unexpectedly frank. Matthew held his tongue, hoping he’d say more.
“I feel guilty for talking about them. It’s not that they don’t love me, it’s a cultural thing. That’s what I tell myself. There’s not much room in mine for swishy Latino dancers that are a little too obviously what they are.”
“Who called you swishy?”
“I did.” Oliver snorted, squeezing his fingers in gratitude. “I’ve seen your family wandering in and out of the gym for two weeks now, Matthew. That’s enough testosterone-flavored beefcake to fill fifty calendars. Compared to them, I’m one hundred percent swish.”
“I don’t spend that much time looking at them.” Matthew’s thumb caressed the pulse at Oliver’s wrist, feeling it jump in response. “You, on the other hand…”
He let the sentence linger for a moment. “I know a few folks back in Ireland who don’t like to be confronted with it in public, but are far too curious and judgmental about who’s buggering who in private. So I think I understand.”
“We give the Irish some serious competition in that category,” Oliver said in a teasing tone. “Plus, I hear our food’s better.”
“Oi.”
Oliver flashed a quick grin, but his expression quickly sobered. “That’s why I don’t like to talk about them when I’m…if I’m with a guy,” he admitted. “Most of them don’t understand why I’m not on a permanent soapbox or keeping my distance until my family accepts my sexuality. I’m trying to be myself and find some happiness in that, not change minds or build bridges. They’ll come around, or they won’t, and either way, I’ll still be me. And I know they love me, despite their own bullshit.”
The whole world for Matthew was narrowing down to this man holding his hand. This brave, fascinating man.
“I’m not saying they don’t make me mad,” he continued, on a roll now that he’d started sharing. “But my grandmother and uncles raised me, paid for my education and years of dance lessons, complete with bright pink leotards. Don’t ask,” he chuckled. “Family means everything to them. There are just a few things we can’t talk about at the dinner table without starting a fight we all know from experience none of us will win.”
When Oliver met his gaze again, Matthew nodded his understanding. “I get it. You can fundamentally disagree with family and still be family. William and I have butted heads more than once. Uncle Shawn—that’s Owen’s dad—is the most easygoing Irishman you’ve ever met, but from what I hear his brother was the worst sort of narrow-minded arse, and cruel on top of it when he discovered his son was gay. You know you’re loved. That matters.”
He did understand, but it still upset him. A man like Oliver should never have to hide who he was to make other people feel better.
“Wow, this got deep fast,” Oliver said self-consciously, sliding his hand back into his lap. “Another reason I don’t bring up personal history on dates.”
“So you’re admitting it’s a date again?” Matthew said with a teasing smile. “I’ll name that progress.”
Oliver smirked. “Date with a friend. That’s all this can be, since you’ll still be straight when it’s over. And I still won’t be interested in experimenting.”
“Fine. No experiments.”
You’re giving up already? Big mistake, Shamrock Jr.
He could practically hear Rory screaming in his head. Putting limits on this was the last thing he wanted, but until he could convince him otherwise, he’d say whatever he had to say to keep him in his orbit.
“Really?” Oliver looked startled. “Okay, that’s smart. I’m glad you agree.”
Smart, my aching blue balls.
“I’m not saying that.”
“What?”
Matthew bit his lip, getting a thrill when Oliver’s attention zeroed in on the movement. “After tonight, I’m pretty damn sure I’m not straight. But the last thing I’d want is for you to feel uncomfortable, and you don’t know me well enough to feel anything else. So friends it is.”
Oliver swallowed hard. “Oh.”
God, he hoped that was disappointment he was seeing in his eyes.
A tired-looking barista with a tray hovered in his peripheral vision and Matthew scanned the room, realizing they were the only customers left in the shop. “Closing time?”
Oliver instantly hopped to his feet with a nervous grace, looking ready to bolt for the nearest exit. “I forgot this place closed so early. Sorry about that.”
“No problem, Oliver. This was fun.”
“Fun?”
He sounded so insulted that Matthew couldn’t contain the laughter that rumbled up from his chest as he tossed a tip on the table and moved to stand beside him. “Wasn’t it?”
“It was something,” Oliver allowed, leaning closer as if he felt the same pull to be closer as Matthew did. “Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow?”