Breaking Free by Isabel Lucero

36

“Wow,”I say as we pull into his parents’ driveway. “Is this where you grew up?”

He shakes his head as he parks. “No, they moved here several years ago.”

I rub my palms over my pants—a pair of navy blue chinos and not jeans. I make sure the collar on my white polo is down, and scrutinize my hair in the mirror.

Trevor laughs. “Dominic Hernandez. Are you nervous?”

“Fuck off.”

“I never thought I’d see you nervous.”

“I’ve never done this. Parents?” I shake my head. “I feel like my heart is in my stomach.”

Trevor reaches out and touches my thigh. “They’re gonna love you. Don’t worry.”

I take a deep breath and blow it out. “Okay, let’s go before I decide to bolt down the street.”

As we head up the pathway to the door, I ask, “Are you not scared?”

“Less nervous than I thought I’d be, but the nerves are still there. They took the news really well, and I’ve talked to them a couple times on the phone since.” He exhales. “But yeah, this is the first time I’ve brought someone home, so I’m kind of freaking out, but I guess one of us needs to be the brave one.”

I screw up my mouth and narrow my eyes at him. “Anyway.”

He laughs. “Anyway, here we are.” And he opens the door and walks in.

His parents aren’t anywhere to be seen right away, so we walk out of the small foyer, and pass a small sitting room to our right that looks like it was set up by one of those HGTV shows. As we keep walking, I realize the entire house looks like it’s been staged for a magazine shoot. Everything is organized and tidy, but it doesn’t feel stiff. It’s definitely a warm, homey atmosphere.

Trevor heads for the kitchen where there’s the sound of dishes clinking and water running. I once again rub my palms on the sides of my pants, taking a deep breath.

“Hey,” he greets.

“Oh, Trevor, I didn’t hear you come in,” his mom says, putting a knife down and wiping her hands on a towel.

Her eyes bounce over his shoulder and land on me so I give her a smile.

His dad turns the water off and dries his hands before spinning around with a wide grin. “Hey, son. Happy Thanksgiving.”

“Happy Thanksgiving,” he replies, stepping to the side and looking back at me. “This is Dominic.”

“Of course. Dominic, it’s so nice to meet you,” his mom offers, coming around their massive island and holding her hand out.

“It’s nice to meet you, too. I love your house.”

She smiles and Trevor’s dad comes to shake my hand next. “Thank you. I’m Marshall, and this is Michelle. We’re happy to have you join us this year.”

“Thanks for having me.”

Trevor clearly got his dad’s eyes, but he’s a good mix of both his parents.

“Well, I was just about to take the food to the table if you want to help,” his dad tells me.

“Of course.”

“Trevor, will you help with this?” his mom asks, heading over to the oven.

As I pick up a couple of dishes and follow his dad through a doorway leading to a dining room, I hear his mom whisper, “He’s cute,” to Trevor, and I can’t fight the smile on my face as relief washes over me.

Once we get all the food transferred to the table, we fill our plates and sit down.

“So, Dominic, Trevor told us a little about you. You’re on the football team, too?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“But you’re new to town?” his dad questions, plunging his fork into some mac and cheese.

“Well, it’s my first year at South River, but I used to live not far from there when I was younger.”

“And your parents? Do they still live nearby?” his dad asks.

Trevor’s head comes up and he says, “Uh.” He looks at me. “Sorry, I didn’t mention anything about that.”

I give him a small grin. “It’s fine.” I look at his parents. “My dad died recently, and that’s what brought me back. My mom lives in South River. They moved there while I was in college at Grand Valley.”

“I’m so sorry,” his mom says, her hand going to her chest.

“Yes, that’s awful. Sorry to hear that,” his dad adds.

I give them a nod, not needing to tell them my true feelings. “Thank you. It’s okay.”

After only a brief lull in conversation after that mood killer, the conversation moves on and we talk about school, future plans, and then they ask a question that has me going stiff.

“How did you two meet?”

My eyes widen slightly, and luckily I had just taken a bite, so now I have a little time before being forced to answer. I glance at Trevor, hoping he’ll take the lead. They probably don’t want to hear the truth.

“Uh, well, Jay and I had gone to Grand Valley to go to a party at one of the frats,” he says. “Dominic was there, too. We had a brief run-in there, and then he showed up in the locker room at South River Monday afternoon.”

I swallow my food and see his mom smiling while his dad nods along while chewing.

“And were you friends first?” she asks.

“Honey,” his dad says, giving her a look.

“What? Is that too personal?”

I laugh. “No, it’s okay. We weren’t really friends right away,” I answer, looking at Trevor.

“I was dealing with my own issues,” Trevor admits.

“Of course,” his mom says with a sympathetic expression. “Well, I’m glad you two found each other and realized there was something between you. Sometimes we let outside opinions affect the decisions we make, when really it only matters how we feel.”

“And I finally feel like myself. I’m happy,” Trevor says.

“That’s good, sweetie,” his mom replies.

* * *

Once we’ve finished eating,we make our way to the living room where we gather around the TV and put on a movie. His parents sit together on the couch, leaving me and Trevor on the loveseat. I drape an arm across the back of the couch, and he scooches closer, resting a hand on my thigh. I smile and plant a quick kiss on his temple.

We don’t watch the entire movie, because we all end up talking again and stop paying attention. However, I really like his parents. They make me feel like I belong and that’s a great feeling. I hate that I was so nervous that they wouldn’t like me, because they’re some of the coolest people I’ve met.

It’s nearing nine o’clock when Trevor yawns and stretches. “I guess we should head back. I’m feeling the effects of two Thanksgivings.”

“Don’t fall asleep while you’re driving,” his mom says.

“It’s only thirty minutes.”

“It only takes thirty seconds for some people to fall asleep,” she says, glancing at her husband.

“I’ll be fine,” Trevor says with a chuckle, standing up.

“I can drive so he can get some beauty rest,” I offer, getting up from the couch.

His parents laugh and Trevor elbows me.

“Please come visit again,” his mom says.

“We will,” Trevor replies.

“Christmas?”

The hopeful tone of her voice has me answering, because I couldn’t imagine turning her down. “We’ll be here.”

Trevor glances at me and smiles, and his parents get up to say goodbye.

“Be safe,” his mom says as she hugs Trevor. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

She steps to me next, wrapping her arms around me. “Thank you for making my son happy.”

“I’d do anything for him,” I reply as I hug her back.

She gives me a squeeze before his dad comes to shake my hand and pat me on the shoulder.

On the way to the car, Trevor grabs my hand and tugs me closer to give me a kiss. “I told you they’d love you.”

“Guess I’m pretty loveable,” I answer with a shrug. “Now give me the keys, sleeping beauty. I’ll get us back home.”

He tosses them to me without a fight and climbs into the passenger seat. I start up the car and give him another look. “We survived a holiday with the parents. Isn’t that a pretty big milestone?”

With a snort, he says, “I think so. Let’s see if we make it through Christmas.”

As soon as I pull onto the street, he leans his head against the window and closes his eyes. I keep peeking over at him, a smile stuck on my face. I squeeze his thigh before I put both hands on the wheel and focus on the road.

He shifts slightly and murmurs, “I love you.”

I do a double take, then a triple. Did I hear him correctly? Is he already dreaming? He doesn’t open his eyes or move again.

I spend the rest of the drive home trying to decipher what else it could’ve been. Did he mean it? Do I ask him about it? No, definitely not. He probably doesn’t even know he said it, and how would that conversation go? Hey, I think you said you loved me before you drifted off to sleep? Do you?

And how would I respond if he said yes? Because if I’m being honest, I’ve had a few moments where I’ve definitely wondered if how I’m feeling is love. I wouldn't really know. There’s not a set list of things you must feel in order to decipher if you’re in love or not.

I know I love being around him. I love making him laugh. I love seeing him smile. I love that he’s been so brave with telling his family and friends about his sexuality, and about me. I love that he was so intent on not letting another man touch me, that he publicly came out to people in order to say I was his. I love how he looks at me. I love the way he blushes when I tell him all the dirty things I want to do to him. I love how he makes me feel. I love how happy I’ve felt since I’ve known him.

I think I love him.