Warm Winters: A Bisexual Story

Black Coffee

I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, as a sat up in my bed. Golden light streamed through the window above my headboard, illuminating my messy room. The clothes I wore last night were carelessly strewn across the floor. I spotted a hoodie laying across my dresser, then threw it on hastily.

I heard the soft clatter of plates clinking against each other downstairs, and my dads distant cheers behind the sound of the TV. My mom was preparing breakfast downstairs. Well, lunch for the rest of the Appermans.

My phone buzzed next to my head, where I apparently left it last night. I picked it up, its smooth surface cold against my skin. The bright screen momentarily blinded me, once my eyes we able to focus again my phone read:

12:00 am

I ignored the other notifications that took over my phone last night, trying my best to forget what happened.

I threw a baggy hoodie over the wrinkled T-shirt I slept in the night before. Hunger twinged in my stomach; I guess, I hadn't eaten since lunch yesterday.

I slowly walked down the stares, making sure to pull up the hood over my neck. It would give Jesus loving Jeff Apperman a heart attack if he saw my hickeys. He'd go into full blown cardiac arrest if he knew they were from a boy.

Well, here goes nothing

My dad stretched out his long legs, as he reclined back in his great leather arm chair. He sat up abruptly and chuckled excitedly, his eyes glued to the TV screen in the middle of the room. Aaron Rogers flew across the screen into the end zone.

"Yes!" he cheered, pumping his arm triumphantly.

My dad was too preoccupied with his morning football to notice me. I crept behind the couch quietly, slipping into the kitchen.

"Look who's up," exclaimed my mom, looking up at me as I entered the kitchen. I sat down at the counter and watched her work. Her blonde curls bobbed as she mixed mayonnaise into a blob canned fish with a fork. Great, salmon salad.  Definitely my ideal Saturday Morning breakfast.

She squinted her brown eyes at me as she scrutinized my face. "Honey? You look so tired." She set down the fork. "Did you get any sleep last night?"

"Yeah, I got sleep. I just went to bed a little late," I responded, meeting her concerned expression. I smiled softly to reassure her, looking down at my hands resting on the counter.

"Here," she said, sliding a plate of the foul concoction toward me. "This will give you some good energy."

"Thanks," I said forcing a smile this time.

"Son, you're alive! You slept so late I thought God went ahead and snatched you up," chucked my dad as he strolled out of the living room. He patted me on the shoulder heavily.

"Did you have a fun night?"

My heart dropped, and I tried to quickly disguise my look of shock.

Great, this is exactly what I didn't want to talk about.

My brain worked fast to come up with a response. "Yeah, It was pretty chill though. Mason and I just played some call of duty and got pizza," I replied, avoiding his piercing eyes.

"I thought Grace was there too?" questioned my mother as she down her cup of steaming coffee with a clink.

Shit.

"Oh Grace was there? Is that right son?" I could hear the edge of excitement in my father's voice. He always hoped Grace and I would become high school sweethearts.

"Oh. She just stopped by for a little bit," I responded quickly to cover my tracks. Despite my efforts to remain inconspicuous, my leg started to bounce restlessly under the counter.