Page 102 of I Wish You All the Best

I take it, slowly, and let him lead me out of the bedroom and down the stairs.

“So you’re Ben.” Nathan’s mother takes my hand, shaking it quickly. “I’m Joyce, and this is my husband, Robert. It’s nice to finally meet you. Nathan speaks very highly.” She winks, and I don’t know what that’s supposed to imply, but I don’t question it.

“He does?” I ask.

“Oh, here and there,” she says.

While he packs groceries into the refrigerator, Nathan’s dad says, “And every night at dinner, and before he goes to bed, and at breakfast.”

I turn to Nathan, who’s currently seated at the counter with his face buried in his hands, and God he’s so cute right now.

“I do not talk about him 24/7!” he argues.

“He’s right.” Mr. Allan folds up the leftover plastic bags and slips them into a small container under the sink. “He has to sleep sometime.”

“Oh, hardy har har.” Nathan rolls his eyes. Then he mouths Sorry. But I’m too busy laughing.

“So, Ben, did you want to join us for dinner?” Mrs. Allan asks.

“Um, sure,” I say. “If y’all don’t mind, that is.”

“Of course not!” Mrs. Allan leans against the counter. “We were just going to do pizza, if that’s okay with you? I’m too beat to cook tonight, work was a nightmare.”

I shrug. “I’m good with whatever.”

“Any dietary things I should know about? No meat, no cheese?”

“No, really, I’m good.”

“So, what have you boys been up to?” Mr. Allan asks. It doesn’t really sound accusatory, but there’s still that worry. Like what if they think we were fooling around upstairs or something?

“Just hanging out. I took him up to the roof.”

I’m actually kind of surprised Nathan doesn’t cover, like say we were studying or something. Nope. We were on the roof, meaning we had to be in his room before we were there. Totally alone, without any parental supervision.

“Oh, lord.” Mrs. Allan chuckles. “You mean you weren’t completely terrified?” she asks me.

“No.” I almost say wasn’t my first time, but I feel like that would be counterproductive. “I was at first, but it’s not so bad.”

“I do wish he’d quit doing that,” Mrs. Allan mutters. “Scares me half to death knowing he’s up there.”

“It’s not that dangerous,” Nathan says. “And I’m careful.”

“I know, I know.” Mrs. Allan ruffles the top of his head and kisses Nathan’s temple. “But you’ve still got me worried.”

“Do you want me to order?” Mr. Allan asks his wife, his phone already in his hand.

“Yes, honey. Just get a large cheese and a large pepperoni.”

“Got it. Huh? Oh, yes. I’d like to place an order …” Mr. Allan says into the phone before he starts walking down the hallway, his voice trailing off with him.

“So, how long have you been at Wake, Ben?” Mrs. Allan asks. I guess that means that Nathan hasn’t told them anything. Not that I thought he would; it’s just … nice to know he kept that secret.

“A few months now. I moved here in January.”

“Are you enjoying it?”

I shrug. “It’s nice. Different.”