“A girl I’ve been seeing.”
“What’s she like?”
“Smart. Witty. Good listener, hard-working, soaking.”
“Soaking?” I choked out.
“Smoking. As in, she’s smoking hot.”
My mom wrinkled her nose. “Smoking hot? She sounds…young.”
He grinned. He grabbed one of my hands with his free one and rested it on his hard crotch. “She is. I’ve got my hands full,” he paused, driving his finger in deeper so I gasped, “and I love every minute of it.”
He pulled away, stuck his finger in his mouth, and groaned. “Deb, your cooking is to die for.”
My jaw dropped. I removed my hand and put it in my lap, pulling the hem of my dress.
“Well, thank you, Dean. I know how much you love your lasagna.”
* * * * *
My parents cleared the dishes, finally giving Dean and I another moment alone.
“What was that?” I hissed. “What happened to staying in control? No touching?”
“Harder than I thought. But I’m not sorry, because that small taste was sweeter than any dessert.”
“What?” I blushed and looked at my lap.
“Hey, Dean,” my mom said. “How about some apple pie?”
“Actually, I have plans for dessert. I should take off anyway—it was a long week.” He looked at me. “For both of us. Alexandra was just telling me she has to go back to campus tonight because she left her Sociology textbook in her room.”
“But, Alex, you aren’t taking Sociology,” Dad said.
“It’s…I—it’s not. It’s Biology.”
“Alex,” my mom said. “I hate the idea of you driving back at night.”
“I’ll follow her in my car,” Dean said. He winked at me. “See she gets home safely.”
“Is it important?” Dad asked. “Do you have homework?”
I swallowed and nodded. “Uh, yes? Yes. I have homework due on Monday.”
Mom sighed, wiping down the counter. “Then you’d better get going. You really don’t mind, Dean?”
“Not one bit. Happy to do it.”
I ran upstairs to get my bag while Dean finished his drink with my dad. Once I’d gotten everything, I went at waited at the front door, feeling like a child with my duffel bag as Dean said goodnight to my parents.
After I got a hug and kiss from them both, they waved while Dean escorted me to my car.
“I won’t be following you home,” Dean said. “You’ll be following me.”
“Where?” I asked.
“To my apartment.”
