Wouldn’t be the first time my brain has jumped ship over a cute boy with muscles.
I turn to Ollie’s parents. “I’m guessing food in your household costs more than rent?”
“We were able to retire once all the boys had flown the coop,” his dad says. “No longer had to feed them all.”
There are muffled grumbles from Ollie and his brothers, but they’re too busy shoving food in their mouths. I’d laugh if it wasn’t frighteningly eerie watching them eat. It’s like watching a nature program showing a pack of lions ripping into a poor animal.
I eat a bacon-wrapped shrimp from Ollie’s plate and a couple of pieces of calamari before the dishes are empty because Ollie scarfs all the ribs before I get a chance to try them.
When the mains come out, I shouldn’t be shocked that Ollie’s ordered two. He grabs the waitress’s attention but then quickly turns to me. “Which one do you want to eat?”
“I’m good with either,” I say.
“Pick one.”
“The salmon looks good.”
Ollie passes over the plate and then orders another salmon.
“You seriously could eat half of this,” I say.
“I’ll probably take you up on that too.”
Damn, if his appetite is this ravenous, I wonder what else he’s insatiable for.
Nope, won’t be thinking about that.
Had he been anyone but Ollie Strömberg, I’d allow myself to think of those things. But jocks and nerdy Lennon have never played well together.
After we settle in, dinner becomes a quiet affair, probably because it’s feeding time at Jurassic Park.
I begin to think Ollie’s family isn’t as bad as he makes them sound, but then his mother finishes her meal and turns to me.
“Did he ever tell you the story of how he came out?”
Ollie almost chokes on his food. “Here we go.” He turns to me. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Please still like me after you hear this story.”
“Well, now, I need to hear this story.”
The brothers snigger. Ollie groans.
“So, when he was fifteen,” his mom says, the green in her hazel eyes sparkling. “He brought home his very first girlfriend.”
I try not to smile but fail miserably.
“I knew they didn’t like her immediately,” Ollie says. “One thing you should know about us is if we’re silent something is seriously wrong. I think that was the quietest dinner we’d ever had.”
“Oh, honey, we didn’t hate her. We were just so confused.” His mom continues, “After she left to go home, we sent the other boys to their rooms.”
Ollie shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “I thought they were about to give me the sex talk. I was kinda hoping the world would open up and swallow me whole.”
“We were not so delusional that you didn’t already know everything,” his dad says. “You had four older brothers.”
“So, Mom’s there, telling me how if I’m straight she’ll accept me and love me anyway.” Ollie shakes his head.
My hand flies to my mouth as I try to stifle a laugh.
“Granted, I had some idea, but until that moment, I didn’t realize how ridiculous it all was. My parents were there telling me they’ll love me no matter what but they couldn’t help thinking my girlfriend was a phase.”
My gaze flies to theirs. “But … why? I mean … how …”
Ollie’s mom smiles. “Telling us at four years old that he likes boys was the biggest tip-off, but there was no one certain thing he did or said. He didn’t have much interest in girls at all. Like, the other boys all came home at one point during elementary school talking about some girl or another. Ollie never did. It was just a hunch, so the girlfriend was a shock.”
Ollie turns to me. “That’s when they decided it was time to give me the gay sex talk. Seriously scarred me for life.”
His brothers snigger, and I can’t help joining in. “Better you than me,” I say.
Ollie’s brothers tell me how they heard the whole thing from the top of the stairs while trying to keep their laughter at bay—not at Ollie being gay but about having to endure a more than awkward sex lesson from their parents, including the lecture about still needing protection even if you can’t get your partner pregnant.
My eyes tear up from laughing so hard when a brown-haired guy covered in tats walks in and takes the last spare seat at the table. “Hey, sorry I’m late.”
“Honey, we thought you couldn’t make it,” Ollie’s mom says.
Ollie stiffens. “Max.”
Ah, the other brother. And the odd one out with his brown hair. Interesting.
Max settles in his seat and glares at Ollie. “Oliver.” Then his eyes meet mine and he freezes. “Who are you?”
“Umm … C-Clark.” Because I’m Clark now. Apparently.
Ollie warned me that when the Strömbergs are quiet you know something’s wrong, and right now, dead silence falls. It must freak out Ollie’s nephew or something, because he starts wailing.