Dirty Little Secret

“Jack! Zack! It’s almost eleven – how long can you boys possibly sleep?”

I groaned, rolling over to try and ignore my mom. I jumped slightly when I bumped into another body, opening my eyes. Oh. I had forgotten that Zack stayed the night at my house. He blushed and pulled the blanket up to cover his bare chest. He looked a little disoriented so he must have just woken up too.

“Mom, go away,” I grumbled, burying my face into my pillow.

“I made chocolate chip pancakes – they’re downstairs. I’ll throw them out if you don’t get up in the next fifteen minutes,” my mom said, and I heard her shut the door as she left.

I looked up at Zack, yawning. “Morning.”

“Morning,” he repeated, dropping the blanket away from his chest.

“Sorry about my mom. She likes to barge in to wake me up in the morning – I probably should have warned you about that,” I apologized.

Zack chuckled, “It’s okay.”

I sat up slightly, rubbing my eyes. “Did you sleep well? I know my bed isn’t very big.”

“It’s the perfect size to fit us both, really. I slept great,” he replied. “I’m kind of surprised that your mom didn’t make me sleep on the couch or something.”

I shrugged, “She’s easygoing. I’m sure she figured we aren’t stupid enough to have sex while she’s in the house.”

“True,” he chuckled. I leaned over to kiss him, our lips moving together softly as our brains started to wake up a little. Zack finally pulled back and I whined, making him laugh. “We should probably go downstairs before your mom gets suspicious.”

“I guess,” I sighed dramatically, rolling out of bed.

“Hey, do you know where my shirt went?” Zack asked, looking around when he got out of bed.

I frowned and looked around, shaking my head, “No. Where did you put it?”

“I dunno. I just tossed it onto the floor when I took it off.”

“My mom probably took it. She comes in and steals my laundry while I’m sleeping,” I groaned, realizing the rest of my clothes were off the floor too. “I’ll get you one of my shirts.”

“Jack, you’re fucking scrawny. There’s no way one of your shirts will fit me,” Zack said doubtfully, following me over to my closet.

I dug through my closet before pulling out a Green Day shirt, holding it up in triumph. “This might fit. I got it at a concert a few months ago and it was a size too big.”

Zack pulled the shirt over his head and sure enough, it fit him perfectly. “Thanks.”

“No problem. Glad I could fit something over your muscles,” I teased, heading toward the door. “Come on, I can smell those chocolate chip pancakes and I really want some.”

-------------------

“Have you heard from either of your parents yet?” I asked, looking over at Zack. We were downstairs in my living room, watching TV together. It was already late afternoon and we had basically been doing this for the entire day.

“I texted my mom last night to tell her where I was, so she wouldn’t freak out. I turned it off after that so I haven’t seen anything else.”

“Maybe you should check and see what they’ve said,” I suggested softly, squeezing his knee. He grimaced and I added, “You can’t hide from them forever, you know.”

“I know...” he sighed and pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Fine. Let’s see.”

“Good boy.”

Zack rolled his eyes at me. He turned his phone on and we both watched as it booted up. I started to scoot away, not wanting to invade his personal stuff, but he put an arm around me to pull me back. “You can hear whatever they have to say.”

“You sure?” I asked doubtfully, and he nodded. He groaned when his notifications loaded – he had ten messages, fifteen calls, and eight new voicemails.

“That’s ridiculous,” he grumbled, opening up the texts. I caught a glimpse of a few as he scrolled past them.

From: Dad
Get your ass back home right now

From: Mom
Honey, please come home. Your father didn’t mean it.

From: Dad
Your mother said you’re at that faggot’s house. Come now NOW.

From: Mom
Okay, I get that you’re not coming home tonight. Just come home soon, please. Your father wants to talk to you.

Zack sighed, looking up at me, “I don’t even want to hear the voicemails. Six are from my mom, probably asking me when I’d be home. Two are from my dad.”

“Well, it’s probably better to listen to them now, as opposed to not knowing what to expect when you get home,” I pointed out. He nodded and dialed his voicemail, turning it on speaker so I could hear it too.

The first voicemail from his dad was filled with a lot of cussing and name-calling. Hearing the word “faggot” multiple times definitely didn’t help Zack’s mood any. I looked up at him and he was stone-faced, almost like he was afraid to react to it. “There’s one more from him, from this morning,” he said, voice cracking a little. The message began to play, his dad’s gruff voice speaking.

“Zack... I’m sorry. I really shouldn’t have overreacted so much. I’ve thought about it all night and realized that I was being an idiot. The fact that you left the house because of me... well, it sucks. Your mother talked some sense into me. I’m sorry about the name-calling. Please come home soon so we can talk this out.”

I raised an eyebrow, “Sounds like he realized he was being an asshole.”

“I-I guess so,” Zack said, looking surprised.

“Are you going to go home and talk to him?”

“I don’t really want to; I’m afraid he’s lying and is going to scream at me again. But I guess I have to man up and face him,” he sighed, opening his text messages and typing one out to his mom.

“Well, like I said, I’m here for you. If he starts being an asshole again, just come back here,” I said, squeezing his hand.

“Fine. But only if your mom is going to make pancakes again,” he teased.

“You only like me for my food? Cruel!” I whined. Zack just laughed, leaning over to kiss me on the cheek.

“Shut up. You’re so overdramatic.”