Page 95 of Forest Proximity
After a few weeks of hiding my relationship with Adam, my instinct is to pull away. This is it. This is the beginning of me admitting I lost and that I have a boyfriend. We’re soft launching this relationship with the two most important people in my life. No big deal.
My very tall, dark, and handsome boyfriend—mostly sasquatch-like descriptors, I realize with a blush—squeezes my hand. “Is this okay?” he asks quietly while my dad helps my mom down from his truck.
“Yeah.” I titter breathlessly. “Yeah, yeah. Sure.”
He smirks. “I like you in my T-shirt,” he says under his breath while my parents make their way up the long stairs.
My gaze shoots down to the conspicuous University of Florida logo. This is such a bad look. “Why would you choose this moment to say that?” I hiss without moving my mouth.
He chuckles.
My mom shakes her head, taking me in as she reaches the top of the stairs. “There you are.” I catch the moment our joined hands register in her eyes. More wrinkles form on her already wrinkled forehead. The war between Inger Sullivan, member of the Committee to Determine the Outcome of Bigfoot Versus Boyfriend, and Inger Sullivan, hopeful grandmother, plays out on her face.
“Good to see you again.” My dad shakes Adam’s hand. “You’ll have your hands full after that storm, huh?”
“Always.” Adam nods. “I have extra hands right now, which will help.”
The men launch into a conversation about trail preservation, and I find out that Adam gave his turkey poacher a temporaryjob helping him maintain the trails after this year’s unending barrage of rainstorms. My heart warms, and my dad appraises Adam with new respect.
My mom stops the conversation cold. “I have a roast in the oven, Brian.”
“Perfect.” My dad grins, turning back to Adam. “Why don’t you come to the house for dinner?”
Inger Sullivan, hopeful grandmother, must’ve won the war. “Oh, yes. You have to join us again, especially now that you’ve had my daughter over for the night and made her miss church.”
Adam chokes on nothing.
“Ma!” I drop my face into my palm. “Adam and I didn’t—”
“My sister and niece are visiting.” Adam frowns. “But I’d love to join you another time.”
My mom twists her lips to the side thinking. “Friday then?”
He grins. “Sounds good.”
“Okay.” I spin, gathering my pile of dirty clothes and my dead phone. “I need to get my parents out of here before they commit you to any more family events.”
I say goodbye to Adam, dragging my parents down the stairs while my dad prolongs the conversation over his shoulder.
Five minutes later, we’re bumping and sliding down Adam’s road, and there’s another kind of storm brewing in the cab of my dad’s truck. I’m slouched in the back, dreaming of curling up on my yellow couch with Adam and an episode ofSeinfeld. Alas, reality.
“How long, Stevie?” My mom’s hurt voice comes from the front seat once Adam’s cabin is in the rearview mirror.
I want to play dumb, like I don’t know what she’s asking about. She wants to know how long I’ve been seeing Adam. My ego can’t handle playing dumb today. I’ve been wrong enough. “Only a few weeks.”
“A few weeks?” she screeches. “You were seeing each other when he came to dinner the other night? Hiding it from us?”
“Yeah.” I rub my temples. “I’m sorry I hid it from you. I only ...” Wanted to win. That’s all. I can’t make myself say it.
My mom spins to face me. “It’s over, then? The ridiculous bet.”
The cab falls silent.
“Yes, it’s over,” I finally breathe. The sunlight is extra bright, reminding me of my recent minor concussion. I squeeze my eyes closed. I suppose I should be grateful for the series of overcast days we’ve had lately. “I don’t know how to tell everyone.” My skin crawls when I consider owning up to a failure on this scale. I have a podcast episode to record, after all.
My mom’s voice is way too chipper. “You tell them you were wrong and that Adam is your boyfriend—he is your boyfriend, right?”
“Mm-hmm,” I murmur. At least I have that.
