I look at Jacob. He flips his eggs. “Well, we met six months ago, but we didn’t start dating right away.”
“Right,” I say, jumping on his lie. “It took a few weeks, until I had the nerve to ask Jake out on a date.”
My mother awws as my dad raises an eyebrow.
“Really?” my dad deadpans. I nod, coming over to stand by my boyfriend-not boyfriend.
I slide him a plate for his eggs.
“Really. I mean, I am like twenty years older than him, so I didn’t want him to think I was a creepy old man.”
Jacob smirks. “Eighteen.”
“Huh?”
“You’re eighteen years older than me,” he says smoothly. “And I never thought you were creepy or old.” He gives me a soft smile. “I thought you were hot as fuck.”
We both realize the moment he curses, that he indeed just told my entire family he thinks I am hot as fuck. The grin that splits my face is wicked. My mother gasps, my father groans, Garrett curses, and I hear Lola giggling excitedly as Shannon and Travis laugh.
“Sorry,” Jacob says breathlessly, his cheeks turning tomato red.
“Well, sounds like you had nothing to worry about,” Dad says from behind his paper.
“Guess not,” I say as Jacob hurries out the door onto the deck, if only to get away from the embarrassment of his blunder. I don’t chase him, but Lola does.
No one stops her, either, and once the door shuts, the tension can be felt in the room.
“What are you doing with that boy, Aaron?” my father drawls. My blood chills.
“Excuse me?”
“I have shirts older than him,” he bites.
I cross my arms as Garrett chuckles. “So do I.”
I glare at him. He is one to talk.
That fact chills me, too, as I look outside the window, noting Lola and Jacob looking at her phone while he eats.
She’s showing him something. And he’s entertaining it, whatever it is, with that sweet smile on his face.
She grins, and he does too, and when she leans into his space, my heart melts a little. Doesn’t anyone else see this?
Or am I the only one that notices how perfect he actually is?
“Just because he’s young doesn’t mean he’s an idiot,” Shannon says, pointing a look at my father.
“I’m just concerned, is all,” my father says.
“Well, you don’t need to be concerned,” I bite. “About me or my relationships. I’m a big boy, Dad. I can make my own decisions.”
My father puts his paper down and looks out the window.
“I didn’t say it wasyouI was concerned about, Aaron.”
He gets up and takes his coffee to the sink, glaring at me as he heads outside to the deck, walking past Jacob and Lola to the gazebo.
My heart stops and I feel a rush of anxiety. It’s notmehe’s worried about?
