It's Too Cliché...right?

The soft rumble of an engine woke me from my sleep. Through my half-lidded eyes, I noted the sunlight straining to penetrate my little curtain, telling me that it was already morning. I felt hardly rested, having spent the majority of the previous night tossing and turning in bed, my mind too busy for sleep to come.

I groaned, blindly reaching for my bedside table in an effort to find my cell phone. After five unsuccessful attempts, I finally felt the cool glass screen of my iPhone underneath my fingertips. Picking up the device, I fumbled with it, almost sliding it off the table, my fingers not following what my brain told it.

After the mini heart attack at almost dropping my phone, I brought it to my face, seeing '11.43' in big white numbers. I sighed, dropping my phone back down onto the bed, throwing my arm over my eyes.

Outside, I heard the car pull away, the purr of the engine slowly fading into the distance. Upstairs, the light thud of footprints told me that that must have been my mother, back from spending the night at Richard's.

A part of me just wanted to go back to sleep, maybe spend the rest of the day in bed, wallowing in my self-pity, but another part of me didn't want to be that kind of dumped boyfriend. It was bad enough that I had spent the previous night wondering what I had done wrong or what I could have done better, I didn't need to rot in bed too. Besides, I had come to the decision last night that I hadn't done anything wrong.

Now, I wouldn't say that I was the perfect boyfriend but I was not the cause of our breakup...was I? Damn it, I thought I had figured this all out yesterday. I mean, sure, I was the one who broke things off, but my reasons were warranted, right?

I sighed, shaking my head. I wasn't going to be hung up on this and it was exactly this thought that made me all the more determined to not waste my entire day in my room. I threw the covers off, grabbing my phone and trudging up the stairs.

The house was quiet but the smell of freshly brewed coffee told me exactly where my mother was. I made my way over to the kitchen, the aroma of coffee thick in the air. My mother was leaning against the kitchen counter, staring out the back door to the yard beyond, the sun shining brightly onto the green grass. As she stood there, I guessed that she was probably thinking about what a beautiful day it was, occasionally sipping her hot java.

"Hey, Mom," I called, diverting her attention from the scenery. She turned to me, eyebrows raised in surprise as she took another sip of her coffee.

"You're up early," she noted. "It's so rare for you to be up and about before noon on the weekends"

"Yeah. Figured I should try being productive."

"You, productive?" she said, a smirk playing on her lips.

"I take offense to that, Mom," I replied, though she could probably tell from the slight smile on my face that I was joking. "Judging by that smile on your face, I take it that last night went well."

She blushed at my words, nonchalantly taking another sip of her coffee in an effort to hide her reddening cheeks. "It was nice," she replied simply.

"Nice? That's all?"

"What did you expect?"

"I want to know if you guys did it?"

"Excuse you, but I don't have to tell you anything about my private time with Richard," she said, putting a hand on her hip in an attempt to appear more intimidating. I wasn't falling for it, though.

"Wait, so you can tease me about my sex life but I can't do the same for you? Seems kind of double standard, don't you, Mom?" I challenged back.

"I am your mother. I can have all the double standards I want," she scolded. "Besides, what teenager wants to hear about their mother's sex life. Shouldn't you be covering your ears and shouting 'la la la' when I even remotely insinuate being involved in coitus?"

"What am I, six?" I said before realizing that most six-year-olds would not even be hearing or even understand the concept of sex, let alone the word coitus. "It's just been a long time since you had a boyfriend and I'm curious as to how much you like the guy."

She walked over, patting me lovingly on the cheek. "It's really sweet of you. I like Richard plenty, and I know how to take care of myself if that's what you're worried about."

"I don't doubt that you can take care of yourself, but I just want to make sure that he's treating you right."

"Don't worry, sweetie. Richard is a very kind man," she said, giving me a small smile as she returned to lean against the counter again. "So, enough about me. Since you're so interested in talking about relationships, how about we talk about yours. It's Sunday so I'm assuming you're going out with Evan?"

I tried not showing my mom that something was wrong but I couldn't help the slight drop in my features at the mention of his name. Being my mother, it was no surprise that she caught this change in expression, no matter how slight it was.

"Did something happen?" she asked, concern washing over her face.

"Evan and I...uh...we aren't together anymore," I said, voice catching as emotions tried to surface once again. As much as I had come to terms with it in my mind, saying it out loud had a different weight to it.

"Oh, honey," my mother cooed, setting the mug down on the countertop before walking over and pulling me into a motherly hug. "What happened?"

"It's for the best anyway. He didn't want to come out, so I figured that I couldn't do it anymore," I explained, telling her the simplified version of everything that went on yesterday. Pulling back, she looked me in the eyes, her eyebrows furrowing slightly as she tried to make sense of my words before her concerned expression returned.

"Oh, baby," she said, pulling me into another hug. I could tell that she knew there was more to my story but decided not to press, instead opting to be the caring mother. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. As okay as I can be, at least."

"Well, it's his loss. You're a great guy and anyone would be lucky to have you."

I chuckled. "You're my mom, you have to say stuff like that."

"Well, yes, but there is still some truth to it," she smiled back. "Are you sure you're okay?" I nodded to her question, patting her reassuringly on the back.

"I'll probably just go out today. I need to get my mind off of things," I said, pulling away from the hug.

"That's good. Call me if you need anything," she said.

"Will do, mom. Now go get some rest. I'm sure you're tired after that night with your boyfriend," I teased as I ushered her in the general direction of her bedroom. She gave me a warning look but headed to the peace of her room regardless. Watching my mom disappeared around the hall, I sighed, dropping my head.

Picking up my phone, I saw no new texts or missed calls, not that I was really expecting any. I guess, a small part of me still wished that Evan would reach some sort of epiphany or something and beg me to take him back, but even I knew that that would have been a little bit too cliché.

I wondered if any of the gang knew about Evan, although the lack of texts or late night calls suggested they were still in the dark about everything. I had thought that Tim would have clued the guys into the latest development in my love life, but I guess I was mistaken. Come to think of it, I was grateful that Tim hadn't, not wanting to spoil anyone's weekend. Heck, Brian and Sam weren't even in town and disturbing their short trip would have been shitty on my part.

It was at that moment that my stomach gave a loud growl, making me realize that I was hungry. I took that as a good sign, knowing that I was hardly in the mood to eat the previous night, passing on the pizza that Tim had ordered for dinner. Can you imagine, passing up pizza? At least I knew now that my appetite was returning meant I had passed that heartbroken phase...I think.

After grabbing a quick shower, I was out the door before Tim had even gotten out of his room, probably utilizing the most of his weekend and sleeping in, unlike me. Oh, the pleasures of not having relationship woes to worry about, though I couldn't really say for certain if Tim was devoid of relationship problems. He had been seeing that Jessie girl a lot more these days, so it wouldn't be completely surprising if they were dating. I made a mental note to myself to ask him about it later.

Shrugging the thought from my head, I dropped my skateboard onto the concrete sidewalk before climbing on and heading for the nearest mall. The shopping center wasn't exactly very close but it wouldn't have been the first time I made the trip on my trusty skateboard. Besides, the weather was nice and I needed some fresh air anyway.

It was almost half an hour later before I walked through the sliding glass doors of the mall. Seeing that it was a Sunday afternoon, it was no surprise that the place had its fair share of people. Groups of teens hanging out, shopping families with their toddlers in tow, and even a few elderly couples just spending a day at the mall and enjoying their retirement.

My stomach decided to give another low grumble, seemingly to remind me the whole purpose of my trip to the place. Food. I thought about it, listing the various F&B outlets available in my head, eliminating any that I deemed I wasn't in the mood for. McDonald's? Nah. Popeyes? Maybe next time. Taco Bell? Hmm, I could go for some Mexican food...well, Mexican-ish food.

I was just about to head in the direction of the fast food place when a hand clasped down on my shoulder. It wasn't a hard hit or anything but I was still surprised, so much so that I literally jumped, something that I'm not proud of in retrospect. I turned, seeing the familiar face of my ex-boyfriend's father.

"Sorry. Did I startle you?" he asked, a chuckle escaping his lips to show that he wasn't actually that sorry.

"Yeah," I returned, giving a small chuckle myself. I could have imagined that I would be laughing my ass off if I had been in Mr. Trevorrow's place, so I couldn't really blame him if he wasn't all that sorry. "Wasn't expecting a stray hand to come down on me like that, Mr. Trevorrow."

"Eric," he corrected, for the umpteenth time it seemed. Somehow, I could never get used to calling him by his first name. "So, what are you doing here?"

"Oh, just getting lunch," I replied simply, suddenly feeling a lot more awkward at the lighthearted conversation. Perhaps the initial shock of it all made me forget that this was Evan's father. Evan, the guy who I had just broken up with. Was there some rule that said I couldn't talk to his dad now that we weren't dating? But then again, it was kind of rude to not try and make conversation, right? I mean, Eric was a nice guy. It shouldn't matter that I was no longer dating his son, right? "What about you?"

"I just got done with a board meeting."

"You had a meeting in a mall?" I asked, confused. Weren't meetings more a corporate building kind of thing?

"Well, I do own it," he replied. I could almost slap myself then. I had completely forgotten that Eric owns a few malls in Bakersfield; I guess this one was one of them.

"Oh, right." Eric only laughed, shaking his head as he patted me on the shoulder.

"You said you were getting lunch?" he asked, to which I nodded. "Well then, why don't you join me? My treat."

"Oh, no, it's okay, Eric. I don't want to impose on—"

"Nonsense. I insist," he interrupted, ushering me forward. "Do you eat meat? Beef in particular?"

"Um...yeah?" I answered though I sounded unsure, more at the question than the answer.

"Just thought I'd make sure. You never know who's vegan or not these days," he said. "I figured you weren't, though. I mean, most football players do enjoy their meat." I had to stop myself from making a dirty joke there, reminding myself that this wasn't just some friend that I could say whatever with. "Go ahead," Eric said.

"Huh?"

"You wanted to say that there are other kinds of meat you enjoy too," he said, sending me a side smirk.

"What? No!" I replied, trying my hardest to defend myself even though it was quite obvious that it was a lie.

"Oh, c'mon. I was a teenager once too, you know. I can tell when an innuendo when I hear one," he said, but all I replied with was the blush that painted my cheeks. Eric laughed but continued walking ahead.

Eventually, we stopped in front of a shop called 'Mason's Grill' and it didn't take a genius to know what kind of restaurant it was. From the rustic wooden facade, the mounted cow head behind the counter, and the smell of sizzling meat, it was plainly obvious that this was a steakhouse.

I suddenly felt really guilty because I knew that this place wasn't cheap. I've walked past it numerous times but I've never even stepped foot into it. Supposedly it had some really good food, though I've never been able to be a judge of that. It wasn't even the worst thing that someone was buying me a, no doubt, expensive meal, but that person being my ex's father.

I was about to insist I couldn't accept such a lavish meal when the waitress appeared, a bright smile plastered on her face. "Good afternoon, Mr. Trevorrow. Table for one as usual?"

"Not today, Amy. Party of two." At his words, the waitress turned her gaze to me, obviously intrigued that someone was joining Eric for his meal. It was obvious Eric frequented the place from the interaction between the girl and him.

"Right this way, sir," she said, directing us to our table.

Sitting down, the redhead placed a menu down in front of me and I smiled at her thankfully. In my mind, however, I was already planning my next moves. Once the girl was gone, I would browse the menu for the cheapest item and settle on that. My plans, however, hadn't counted on Amy knowing exactly what Eric wanted.

"You're usual today, sir?"

"Yes please," he said with a smile before turning to me. "You're okay with a rib eye steak?"

"Uh..." I muttered, my brain unable to keep up as my initial plan was blown out the window.

"The rib eye is a must have. How do you take your steak? Medium rare?"

"Uh..." I repeated though I added a dumb nod.

He smiled, turning back to the waitress. "Well then make that two rib eye steaks then, medium rare. I'll take a nice merlot to go with that."

"Will do, Mr. Trevorrow," she said, turning to me. "And how about you, sir?"

"Um...a coke will be fine."

"Certainly. I'll be back shortly with your drinks," she stated before she was off.

"The food here is great, you'll really love it," Eric said.

"I feel bad making you spend this kind of money on me."

"Don't. It's the least I can do, especially after befriending Evan," Eric said.

I went quiet at that, unsure if I could even call myself that anymore. Sure, we were no longer dating, but were we still friends? I guess, seeing that my wounds were still fresh, the answer at that moment would have been no, but maybe sometime in the future, after all this was nothing but a distant memory.

The waitress returning with our drinks knocked me from my thoughts, bringing my attention upwards and away from my fidgeting fingers. I gave the girl a polite nod as she laid the glass in front of me, but my attention was mostly taken up by the look that Mr. Trevorrow was giving me, a look that was a mixture of parental scrutiny and friendly mischief.

I remained silent, wishing that the waitress would return for whatever reason. It was almost painful to maintain eye contact with Eric, feeling like he was uncovering every lie that I'd ever told in my entire life. Hell, I would have been satisfied with Eric saying anything to end this weird stand-off.

"Can we be honest with each other?" Eric said, finally breaking the awkward silence between us. Uh-oh, that sentence was never good. I immediately regretting wishing for the end of the silence because suddenly, telling the truth seemed a whole lot scarier.

"Um...sure, I guess."

"You and Evan are dating, right?" I choked on my saliva, half expecting the question but not the straightforward manner that Eric had asked it. He laughed at my reaction before saying, "I take that as a yes."

"No!" I cried out, probably a little too loud when I noticed a few pairs of eyes dart in my direction. Eric raised an eyebrow at me, disbelief unmistakable on his face. I lowered my voice before continuing. "I mean yes...well, yes and no, I guess."

"You're not really making much sense, dear boy," Eric chuckled, sipping on his wine.

"Oh god, this is embarrassing," I cried, burrowing my face in my palms.

"Relax. Just calm down. There's nothing to be embarrassed about."

I cringed as I looked up at Eric who had a warm expression on his face. If anyone had ever doubted that Evan was his father's son, they just needed to look at the older man to realized that the two were related. From the shape of their nose to the outline of their jaw, they shared features so similar it couldn't have been anything but relation.

A wave of longing shot through me. No, not for Eric because that would have been kind of creepy, but for my ex-boyfriend. It had been less than a day since the whole breakup and already, I was missing Evan.

"We...dated for a while," I choked out, the words seeming more difficult to say than it had just this morning.

"Dated?" he asked, eyebrows furrowing as he digested that part of my statement. I was sure he knew the implications of that word but dared not make assumptions, instead, playing the fool.

I nodded to his question. "That's where the 'no' part comes in. We uh...broke up yesterday."

"Oh," Eric said, his eyes dropping to the table as his fingers spun the stem of his wine glass. He looked like he was thinking about something but he was otherwise silent, not even meeting my eyes anymore.

I too lowered my gaze to the table, feeling the tension between us only growing ever thicker with each passing minute. If I was uncomfortable with Mr. Trevorrow paying lavishly for my meal before, I was downright panicking now. I could almost sense that the same thoughts were running through the older gentleman's mind. After all, he had offered a meal to the person he thought was dating his son, which I no longer was.

"I can pay for my own meal. I understand that—"

"No, you won't. I invited you to lunch, so I'm paying," Eric interrupted, finally looking up at me again.

"But—"

"No buts. Now, it's just no longer lunch with my son's supposed boyfriend but lunch with my friend," he said, smiling at me. "Can I just ask something, though?"

"Uh...okay?"

"What did he do to make you break up with him?" he asked. My eyebrows furrowed because it sounded like he expected Evan to be the one in the wrong. Wouldn't a parent always take the side of their child?

"What makes you think it's something he did and not me?" I asked.

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Because Evan's my son and I know him. He's always had problems with...expressing himself, so I knew that he was most likely the cause of the problem." He paused, looking at his hands, his expression suddenly serious. "Maybe that's bad of me as a parent to assume. After all, you may have very well been the one at fault. Are you?"

I quickly shook my head but stopped myself just as fast. Who was I to say who was at fault or not? It's all about perspective after all, right? "I broke up with him, yes, but I won't say if it's anyone's fault or not."

"That's pretty mature thinking, but it still doesn't answer my question. Why did you break up with him?"

I sighed, composing myself and trying to think about how I was going to explain this to Eric. Regardless of anything, the fact of the matter was that Eric was Evan's father. Shouldn't this come from his son's mouth and not mine, especially seeing how it seemed only right that he take Evan's side.

"I'm no longer in the closet anymore. Simple as that," I said, going for the most straightforward explanation possible, hoping that Mr. Trevorrow could pick up on what I was trying to say.