Before I can think of what to say, the front door opens, and Zack's mom, Robin, steps out. She’s dressed in a tasteful cream suit with low heels, her chocolate hair frothing around her face. When she sees me, she smiles.
“To be honest,” she says, as she tucks her hands in her pockets and steps onto the deck, “I didn't think you were going to accept our invitation. But I'm glad you did.” Robin glances over at Charlie, and they shake hands in a very businesslike manner. I know they had a long, long conversation at the football game, but I’m not entirely sure how it went down. “Come on in.”
Robin gestures for us to head inside, and we do, moving down a long, marble hallway and into a formal dining room that’s laid out like a magazine spread.
“My parents love to put on a show,” Zack whispers, leaning over my shoulder and putting his lips near my ear. My entire body goes white-hot in an instant and goose bumps spring up along my arms. Luckily, Dad is too busy being introduced to Zack’s sister, Kelsey, and some family friends of theirs. Zack’s dad is nowhere to be seen. “Just … don’t praise my mom for her home cooking,” he adds with a slight quirk of his mouth. “It’s all catered.”
Zack pulls out a chair for me, and I tuck my fluffy red skirt under my thighs before sitting. He rests his hands briefly on my shoulders before pushing me in and sitting beside me. Charlie’s definitely watching us now, and I flush.
“I have to admit, I didn’t want to come over here,” Dad says as he sits across from me, and Robin takes up her spot at the head of the table. Zack’s sister sits across from him, and the couple—I didn’t catch either of their names—is at the end of the table. “But my daughter is a very forgiving soul. It’s a trait I can’t bear to discourage.”
I smile tightly, and Zack raises both of his dark brows. If Charlie only knew … Would he be proud of me? Or disappointed? I try not to think too hard about it.
“Well, my son is quite the opposite, unfortunately,” Robin says, and Zack narrows his eyes. He looks at his mother, and they exchange one of those quiet, personal conversations that requires no words. “He seems to take after his father, sadly enough.”
“Why do you say things like that?” Zack whispers, his voice low and dark, menacing. “You know that’s a bunch of bullshit. I’m nothing like him.”
“What you did to this girl,” Robin says, as she stands up with a pair of carving knives in hand. She’s a bit scary like that. “That was something your father would’ve done at your age. If you’re ashamed, then good: you should be.”
Zack scowls, but I smile. Robin reminds me of Kathleen a little, just a bit … softer? After a moment, she sighs and forces a smile of her own.
“I love you, son. Don’t mess this up. Pulling a girl’s pigtails because you like her isn’t cute.”
“Like her?” Dad echoes, looking between me and Zack like he’s just now figured something out.
Oh god.
Robin chuckles as Charlie narrows his eyes on her son. Meanwhile, Zack just sits there like he always does, a chiseled bunch of muscles and a narrowed dark gaze. When he glances over at me, I suddenly decide we’re sitting too close. But would scooting my chair away a few inches be too obvious? Probably.
“The boy has a crush,” Robin says, and her friends both laugh while Dad sits there with his brow all scrunched up. Zack’s sister, Kelsey, isn’t shy about voicing her opinions either. She doesn’t look like Zack or her mother, so I figure her pale orange hair and light green eyes are a product of their father’s genetics.
“He pined after her all last year. It was absolutely intoxicating.”
Zack growls at his sister, but Robin just tsk-tsks at them and starts to carve the turkey, passing out slices to me and Dad first, then her friends, her daughter, and lastly, her son. She winks at him when she finally passes over the plate.
“I’m just glad they’re both going to the academy,” Kelsey says, smiling prettily at me. She seems nice enough, but I’m so wary of beautiful girls now. I shouldn’t be—that’s some stupid internalized misogyny right there—but it’s true. I’m scared of beautiful boys, too, so at least nobody could call me sexist. “Zack’s basically obsessed.”
“Okay, Kelsey, you can shut the fuck up now,” Zack says, but I’m holding back laughter, and Dad is terrified out of his mind.
“The f-word at the dinner table? Come on, Zack Marcus Brooks, have some class.” Robin takes her seat, and we all serve ourselves from the side dishes. Everything looks so pretty, like it’s from a cooking show or something. It’s prettier than last year, when Zack and I sat at a big, lonely table all by ourselves. This is much better.
