“All the more reason to ditch him.” Dylan leans back in his chair.
I raise a brow. “That’s rich coming from the guy who manages to have a woman on your arm in every Instagram post, but has yet to ever bring one home for Thanksgiving.”
“I prefer to fly solo. There’s less drama that way,” he quips.
I sigh. “Yeah, well, flying solo kinda sucks, so...”
“It’s time to eat!” Macy’s voice rings through the house.
And time to prank.
We both jump up with a telling enthusiasm. However, neither of us points it out as we make our way out of the library area and back into the sitting room. Garrett and Genna lead the charge, though Garrett hangs back once he catches sight of me.
“You didn’t get far into your game,” he muses, draping an arm around my shoulder. I can’t tell if he’s being sweet or a little salty, but regardless, I let his arm remain as we find our place atthe dining room table. We sit directly across from Dylan and Genna, while their parents sit at either end.
“This looksamazing,” I say, taking in all the delicious food lining the table. “Someone say grace so we can get started.”
Dylan chuckles at my eagerness, and Garrett lets out a small sigh. I have no idea what he’s reacting to, but before I can think anything of it, I’m cut off by Greg, who says grace. I bow my head, close my eyes, and then proceed to make my plate.
“Can I have a roll, please?” I ask, nodding to the basket of homemade fresh bread.
“Absolutely.” Dylan grabs for the basket, and then hands me one. My stomach growls at the sight, and I can’t help myself, breaking it open...
And confetti goeseverywhere.
“Oh my gosh!” I screech, as little turkeys and pilgrim hats fly everywhere.
Garrett jumps beside me, but then groans. “You’ve gotta be kidding me. That just got in my potatoes.”
“It’s edible.” Dylan shoots him a wink. “No worries.”
Macy and Greg only smile, and Genna giggles.
“I knew that one was coming,” she says.
“Yeah, we did, too,” Greg adds, dishing out some sweet potatoes for himself.
I grin, meeting Dylan’s gaze across the table. “Mine issomuch better. A confetti roll is not gonna do it. It was just a little surprising.”
“And childish,” Garrett mutters under his breath.
I ignore my boyfriend and continue to eat my Thanksgiving meal, thankful that I’m going to have a much more solid response from Dylan. I’ve gotten him way better than any confetti prank.
We finish the rest of our meal, and only then do Macy and Greg return with the pies, carrying them delicately.
“Oh, is that the pumpkin spice thing you told me about?” He looks over to Genna, who nods like the best friend that she is.
“It’s double crusted, since I know that’s your favorite part,” she chimes, making it a point not to meet my gaze.
“Amazing.” Dylan slices himself a generous serving.
Garrett looks over at me, and I shoot him a sly grin.
This is going to be epic.
Dylan stabs his fork into the orangish filling and crust, picking it up and popping it into his mouth...
And then he explodes, spewing colored mayonnaiseeverywhere—but most of it shoots across the table, all over Garrett’s designer sweater.
