He shut the cupboard.
“Don’t tell anyone,” he whispered, leaning in and kissing me on the cheek. “Or I might have to kill you.”
I moved to kiss his lips but someone knocked.
“Damn,” he said, brushing the side of my face with his hand. “They have the worst timing.”
“Knock, knock!” Simon yelled. “You’d better be decent.” Stryker gave me a look and went to open the door and everyone piled in, also carrying bags.
We ended up making the most random, weird dinner ever. From pancakes to steak tips to pizza, with chocolate covered pretzels and white chocolate raspberry cookies for desert. There were way too many cooks in the kitchen, and Stryker tried to rein everyone in, shouting orders like a general and trying to organize the chaos that refused to let itself be organized. We didn’t even bother to take everything over to the couch and futon, we just stood around and piled our plates high, stuffing our faces until we’d had enough and we had to sit down.
“I don’t think I can move,” Will said, putting his hands on his stomach.
“Ditto,” Lottie said, her head lolling on Zan’s shoulder.
“Who knew pancakes and pizza made such a good combination?” Simon said. Brady raised his hand.
“I did.”
“Sure you did,” Simon said, honking his nose.
Stryker had found a pen and was busy drawing something on my arm as I sat in his lap. He wouldn’t let me look at it until it was done, so I was just watching everyone else as they debated about the best Thanksgiving side dishes.
I’d told my parents I was bringing a guy home, but I hadn’t told them much more than that. Trish had accused me of being ashamed of Stryker, but it wasn’t true. I knew if I went into too much detail, they’d either tell me that he couldn’t come, or read too much into our relationship.
Yes, I liked him. I could no longer deny that. Yes, I enjoyed spending time with him and yes, that included hav**g s*x with him.
No, I did not want him to be my boyfriend. Things were fine the way they were, and besides, we weren’t headed for commitment. Boyfriend came before fiancé came before husband. I wasn’t going to marry Stryker, so why even go down that road?
“You can look now,” he said, holding up my arm. He’d drawn a silhouette of my face with a frame around it, like a picture. “What do you think?”
“It’s beautiful.” I turned my arm to see it better. “Now I’ve got ink, too.”
“Would you ever get a tattoo?”
“I’ve thought about it, but I could never decide what I wanted.”
“They say you should sit on a tattoo idea for two years before you get it.”
“Is that what you do?”
“Not exactly, but it’s a good idea. At least for your first one.”
“If I make up my mind, I’ll let you know and you can go with me. Deal?” I held up my hand and he shook it.
“Deal.” He capped the pen. “So I was thinking I should bring something.”
“You don’t have to do that, I swear.”
“Still, it is a tradition in polite society to bring the hostess gift at least.”
“Well, I have the green bean casserole covered, and Mom always does potatoes, squash and sweet potatoes.”
“How about a baked brie?”
“A what?” I’d never heard of such a thing.
“It’s cheese baked in a crust with jam. It’s delicious. I swear, you’ll love it.”
“Brie? The boy with the banjo, tattoos and lip ring eats brie?” He leaned in and snuffled my neck, making me giggle.
“Shhh, that’s the third rule of cooking: Don’t speak of the brie,” he whispered in my ear before biting my earlobe.
“Okay, I won’t speak of it.” I slid my hand down and squeezed his dick once when no one was looking. He made a little sound of surprise and shifted under me.
“Dirty. You play dirty, sweetheart.”
***
Mom was in full panic mode when I got home on Wednesday night, and I could hear her fighting with Dad all the way from the front door. They’d put the turkey flag outside and I knew the house was going to be dripping in leaf cutouts and various other Thanksgiving memorabilia. My mother had an entire room in the house reserved for her various holiday decorations.
“Gina, you need to calm down. You do this every year and it always turns out fine,” Dad said in a soothing voice. “Hey, Katiebug!” His face broke into a smile.
“Hi, Dad.” I set my bags down in the doorway and headed into the warzone, otherwise known as the kitchen. The table was set with the maple leaf placemats and a Yankee Candle store’s worth of spice-scented candles were burning. And, of course, Mom had her traditional rust-colored turtleneck on. Dad leaned down from his towering height to give me a hug.
“How is she?” I whispered.
“I’ve hidden the coffee so she won’t get crazy on caffeine. So far we haven’t hit panic mode,” Dad whispered back before letting me go.
“Hey, Mom. Do you need any help?” The counter was covered in cans and bags of flour and cooking spray and spices galore. Stryker would have been horrified at their disorganization.
I’d said good-bye to him this morning and I was already itching to text him. I’d put my phone in my glove box so I wouldn’t be tempted to look down at it while I was driving.
“No, I’m fine. Just trying to get organized. When is that guy coming?” As far as my parents knew, Stryker was a friend who was also a guy who didn’t have a home to go to on Thanksgiving. Granted, this was true, but I knew my mother was painting an Oliver Twist-like picture in her head that the reality was going to shatter.
“Um, I told him to be here by eleven.” We usually ate around one, so that would give my parents enough time to get used to Stryker before we all sat down to dinner. It would also give my relatives enough time to properly embarrass me in front of him.
“That sounds good. Is he staying the night?” She wiped the counter down with a leaf-shaped sponge. I had no idea where she got this stuff from, but she always managed to find things to fit the holiday.
“Uhh,” I said, stuttering. I hadn’t anticipated that. “I don’t think he’d planned on it.”
“Well, didn’t you say he was a couple hours away? We could always make up the extra room for him.” She rinsed the sponge out and I could feel Dad staring intently at me. Normally Mom was the one who read too much into situations with boys.
“I’ll ask him,” I said, getting out my phone.
My mom wants to know if u’ll stay the night. In the guest room. I think she thinks ur a loser I’m being nice 2.
He responded immediately.
Can I sneak into your room for pity sex?
I had to stop myself from rolling my eyes because both my parents were watching.
I told you, my dad has guns.
I could almost hear his sigh through the text.
Fine. We can rendezvous in the shower. To be continued
I smiled as I typed dot dot dot
“Yeah, he’s going to stay.”
“What did you say his major was?” Mom said, fiddling with the oven.
“He’s a double mechanical and environmental science major.” Stryker’s majors painted the picture of a helpless dork, complete with glasses and a pocket protector.
“Impressive. He must be really smart.” Dad was still giving me a searching look.
“He is. He’s also musically inclined, and may or may not bring a guitar with him. He usually always has one in his car.” I didn’t know which car he’d be bringing, because he was always working on two at once.
“And he doesn’t have any family?” Mom said.
“His sister is going with Lottie, actually. Their parents abandoned them and they don’t have any relatives they’re close to.”
Mom shook her head sadly. Oh, how her delusions were going to be smashed tomorrow.
“That’s such a shame. Well, he’s more than welcome.”
“He’s really grateful,” I said, which wasn’t complete bullshit. “So, I’m going to go take my stuff to my room.”
I scurried away before Dad could intercept me, and shut the door. So far, so good.
Chapter Eight
Stryker
If I said I wasn’t nervous, I would have been lying. I panicked and wrapped the container I put the baked brie in with towels so even if it bounced, nothing would happen to it and checked my appearance in the mirror more times than I had in all the previous years of my life, combined.
I’d even made Trish help me pick out a tie, which was like making a really grumpy cat take a bath.
I’d debated about taking out my piercings, which was another first, but I left them in. I didn’t care what they thought about those. I did, however, wear a long-sleeved shirt that hid my tattoos.
Luckily, I had a nice long drive to panic and try to rehearse what I was going to say.
I texted Katie when I was a few minutes away, realizing that in my nervousness, I was pretty early. My GPS directed me that her house was my next right in a lovely calm robotic voice.
Katie’s neighborhood looked like the set of a quintessential American town. It was a development with houses that all had the exact same-sized lawns and evenly-spaced trees. I’d lived in a lot of places, but definitely none like this. This was a place with snowblowers and riding lawnmowers and potted shrubs and white fences. It was so…clean.
There were at least six cars parked in the driveway and in front of the house, so I had to park on the street in front, partially blocking the neighbor’s driveway.
I unwrapped the casserole dish from the towels, grabbed the bag with my hostess/suck up gift and walked up to the front door. There was a flag shaped like a turkey hanging from the eaves of the porch. Wow. They were those kind of people. The kind of people who had boxes of decorations for every holiday, even the holidays that weren’t really holidays. Like President’s Day. Katie hadn’t mentioned that.
I rang the doorbell and crossed my fingers that Katie would answer. I heard pounding footsteps, which probably meant she was trying to beat someone else to the door. Smart girl.
“Hey,” I said, giving her what I hoped was a confident smile.
“Did you do something to your hair?” She said after staring at me for a full thirty seconds.
“Yeah, I actually brushed it today.” This was partially true. I’d also put some gel in it to make it behave.
“You look, wow.” She blinked, but didn’t move to let me in. She didn’t look so bad herself. I didn’t know anyone who could pull off pink jeans with a white sweater, but she could. Behind her I could hear the hum of people talking and laughing. Panic tried to claw its way into my brain, but I pushed it back. There was no need to panic.
I held out the brie. “I come bearing gifts. Do you, um, think I could come in?”
She blinked again and shook her head, as if to clear it.
“Um, yeah. Come on in.”
“Thanks.” I stepped over the threshold, but she grabbed my arm and leaned to whisper in my ear.