“Anna, but you already know that.” Still, I keep my lips curled, and hopefully everything about me screams I’m cool, calm, and confident.
Once we take our seats and order our drinks, the table goes tensely quiet.
Sylas is the first to speak. “Don’t do this. You have us here. Whatever you’re going to ask, just ask it.”
Oh my god. I’m not sure if I should duck and expect some kind of lash-out that will lead to the argument of the year, so I hold my breath as I wait.
My parents thrive off confrontation, especially my mother. She has a comeback for everything and no matter what, she’s never wrong. They always made me nervous and I alwaysavoided them because they would lead to hour-long lectures. To her, it was never an argument; to her, it was just us talking.
I’d avoid them at all costs, especially because her passive-aggressiveness was sometimes too much to handle. Occasionally, I could put up with certain things, but her belittling remarks were hard to let slide.
“We’re just having dinner,” Clara starts.
Thea’s gaze slips between each family member, but she stays quiet. She looks between bored and annoyed, though I’m not sure which.
Sylas levels his mom with a suspicious look. “So, we’re just here for dinner?”
“Yes, Sylas,” his dad answers, a little irritated at him before his deep British voice becomes indifferent. “We’re just having dinner with your girlfriend, who we didn’t know existed until a few days ago.”
“We told you it’s new,” Sylas adds.
“We’re still getting to know one another,” I insert, not sure if I should’ve said anything at all.
“Right.” There’s something sardonic about the way he said that single word. But it’s the slight twist of his lips and spark of challenge in his eyes that make me uncomfortable. “With that being said, because this isnew, has Sylas already told you how devoted he is to hockey? Because if he hasn’t, I need you to know that ithasandwillalways come first. Everything is either second or last in his life. I need you to understand that he can’t afford distractions. Isn’t that right, Sylas?” he states, directing his intense, hardened eyes at him.
“That’s—”
“I can’t afford distractions either.” I talk over Sylas, and they all turn to stare at me like I’ve said something otherworldly. “What I mean is, I have a lot going on in my life. Sylas knowsthat, just like I know he has a lot going on as well. Which is why we’re taking things slow, getting to know one another.”
His father hums, and he scrutinizes me. “What is it you do?”
Sylas places his hand on my thigh, squeezing it gently as if he were trying to reassure me that it’s all going to be okay. “I’m a full-time student. I have two jobs and run my own business.”
“What kind of business?” Clara asks, eyes sparkling.
“Baking. I bake all sorts of things,” I answer proudly.
“She’s really good. She has this Instagram page of all the stuff she’s made,” Sylas adds, just as proud.
I can’t mask my shock quick enough, but once I recover a second later, I hide it. I didn’t know he had looked at my page.
“Oh, cute.” Clara grins, but the sound and expression of her flawless, wrinkle-free face feels and looks fake. It’s condescending and placating. I know it well—Mom adopted a similar one when I wore something she wasn’t a fan of.
Sylas removes his hand off my thigh and grabs mine, placing it on the table. Everyone’s gaze lands on it.
It’s intimate, the way he carefully holds it, how he rubs his thumb soothingly over my knuckles. For never having had a girlfriend, he’s good at this. Even the way he holds my stare feels personal, affectionate,special.
“I don’t understand why this relationship is necessary if you’re both immensely busy?” his father voices, breaking the spell we’re in.
For a mere second, I genuinely forgot they were here.
“We like each other,” Sylas answers, but his eyes are on mine, full of warmth as his dimples indent each cheek. My stomach rampantly flutters. “It’s not like we’re getting married or putting anything on hold to be with each other.” He now looks at them with a forced friendliness. “We’re taking things slow, but we’re exclusive. I don’t want anyone else and neither does Anna, so here we are.” He raises our joined hands as if to prove a point.
They’re not convinced. At least his dad isn’t. Thea looks like she couldn’t care less, and his mom looks like she either supports us or is having a heart attack. I don’t know what to make of Clara, but something is off about her. However, she’s the least of my worries because his father is staring at me like I’m the gum beneath his shoe.
But it’s a short-lived look because he smiles. Granted, it’s tight, but I’ll take it. “Well, Anna, we’re happy to have you here.” His words sound robotic, like it took everything in him to voice them out loud.
“Thanks for having me.” I make sure my smile doesn’t mirror his, and keep it firmly in place throughout dinner.
