Trevek: Hosting Feelings

Unlocked

Trevor's POV:
Ok. Ok. Ok. Trevor, you've got this, I repeat mentally in my mind for the third time while decending the staircase toward dinner and an inevitable confession.

Derek's pep talk really helped me move forward with this, and his hand motions calmed me; he could be an encouraging guru when he wanted, but I was still so nervous; my throat was dry, my palms were sweaty and I felt like I was gonna throw up. This is the first day of high school all over again. Also, the first time I told Derek, I liked him. That time, I almost did throw up.

We make it to the table, and the food is sprawled out in front of us like usual; tacos. I see ground beef, cheese, tomatoes, lettuce, hard and soft tacos, and a whole lot of sauce.

I see all the delicious food, but I don't have much of an appetite. My stomach's full of butterflies, having an all out death war with my nerves.

"Woo, alright,  these tacos are calling my name!" Derek says enthusiastically, striding toward the table." My parents must see that as hunger excitement, but I can tell from the way he touched my hand when he passed me that he purposely diverted attention from me, giving me the tranquillo sign after sitting; I love him for that cause I must look a wreck.

We take a seat next to each other this time, and Derek starts filling his plate. I hesitate.

"Don't be shy, honey, dig in before it gets cold." My mom encourages, gesturing to the food she made.

I manage to grab a soft shell, my preference, and pile in some fixings before rolling it up to an appropriate tightness.

"So boys, Terrence told me you actually managed to find his reference materials in that God-forsaken shed of his. The fact that you guys came out alive is impressive enough." Mom jokes, looking at dad accusingly.

Dad just smiles. Oh, I'm sure they were very lively," he says without looking up. Fuck. "I mean, they navigated the intricate space like pro explorers after all. Besides, honey, that shed has been a lifesaver for my storage needs for years. It just needs a little sprucing up, is all.

My mom rolls her eyes, obviously remembering this conversation before. "If by 'sprucing', you mean we need to call one of those T.V. cleaning shows to have an intervention, then sure. She finishes, waving her hand dismissively.

Derek is crunching his hard shell next to me while mom does the same, and dad places his hard shell into a soft tortilla. Derek must have noticed I wasn't talking much because he started to get the conversation going

"Wow, Mr. M, I didn't know you liked both hard and soft tacos. It's amazing how people can like two totally different things." He mentions casually while nudging my foot under the table.

Here we go.

"Yes, I suppose the intricacies of taste is really quite vast," he manages with his words only being half understandable with food in his mouth.

"Dear, don't talk with your mouth full." Mom reminds him for the umpteenth time. He's definitely my father. A father who has a son who's been devious, dishonest, disingenuous... Derek?

Derek is signing Tranquillo while basically stomping my foot at this point, and I got the message the first time. It's just, what am I supposed to say? 'Oh hey, mom and dad, me and my best friend hold each other at night while we kiss and touch and feel up one another. Oh, and we were so full of teenage hormones we boinked in a dusty shed; marking our territory and scaring the neighbors. You know, typical straight behavior.

Alright, I can do this. Tranquillo right?It's no big deal. I just have to say it. Loud and proud. Hear goes... "I like apple juice and orange juice. "I say with high levels of confidence. They all just stare at me. Okay, tiny miscalculation. I got my words a little jumbled up in my mind, but at least the message is sorta the same. Right?...