“Mary is always talking about how much of a gentleman her boy is," Mom said after glaring pointedly at Jane before grabbing my hand again. “You should get to know him, Lily. He is your age.”
I could feel my face going red, but not from the idea of getting to know him. I was embarrassed, and Mom’s whispering had leveled out to a normal volume. Loud enough that if Oliver passed the table again, he would hear.
“I can’t just talk to him while he’s working, Mom,” I whispered, looking past her to where Oliver was waiting by the service counter, speaking with another waiter.
Oliver was attractive in a preppy, athletic college guy kind of way, and had one of those mouths that looked like he was smiling even when he wasn’t. And he had nice hazel eyes, I guess, but other than that, he looked almost too good.
When he caught me looking, I snapped my attention to Mom. “I’m not really interested,” I smiled nervously as I played with my napkin.
Mom waved off my comment. "Oh, don't be silly. How do you know you don't like him when you haven't spoken to him?"
"It was like that for your mom and me. She wouldn't look at me twice until she got to know me," Dad added proudly.
"Exactly. And look how happy we are now?" Mom took his hand in hers as they smiled at one another.
I wasn’t about to tell them dating in their time was often a case of society pressuring women into settling for men for the bare minimum. Then again, that hasn’t changed much in today's society.
Our parents met in high school, where Dad pursued Mom until she agreed to go to prom with him. He said he didn’t mind the chase, and she said she preferred it that way. From that moment on, they were inseparable.
"You never know, Lily. That waiter could be the one,” Dad said.
"At least consider getting his number," Mom urged. "You could catch up with him after dinner."
"I can’t." I started playing with the corner of my napkin again. It was a little too late to consider backtracking.
My parents looked at me like I was about to admit I used illicit drugs. Dad more so than Mom as he transformed into his Detective Mark Whitmore persona and read me like I was a suspect. They weren’t fans of their daughters staying out past 9 PM. Something that made sense for Jane, She was 16. But I was 22 and living away from home.
I cleared my throat and smiled. “I’m going out tonight.”
"Where?" Dad asked sternly.
"A club. Kira still has to text me the details."
"Of course," Mom said, rolling her eyes. "Who else is going?"
"Her boyfriend, Aiden—"
Dad shifted in his seat. "Do you still have your pepper spray in your bag?"
"Yes, Dad."
"She's just going out with friends," Jane added, but our parents weren't interested.
Mom shook her head. "I don't think this is a good idea."
"We won't stay long. We'll just dance for a little while then leave," I explained. I wasn’t about to bring up the fact that I had been clubbing before. It usually wasn’t my kind of scene anyway, but it also didn’t hurt to let my hair down on the rare occasion.
"Lily, I've witnessed and arrested very bad suspects at clubs. It's not all fun and games," Dad warned. His words only made Mom freak out more as she began fussing over the wrinkles in the tablecloth.
She pursed her lips. "What happens if you want to leave early but your friends don't?"
"There's this neat little thing called public transport that could probably help her out," Jane mumbled.
Mom ignored Jane once again as she lowered her voice. "What if someone spiked your drink?"
"I'll keep an eye on my drink—"
"And if you lose your friends in the crowd?"
