“Didn’t take long for that train to derail,” Weston says with a laugh as the waitress comes to take our food order. She lingers over Weston, pen poised above her notepad, smiling down at him with stars in her eyes as he continues. “Two months later they’re shacking up. Who would have thought that douche canoe would be domesticated?”
I remember Cece texting that night, both horrified and delighted that Matthew was finally starting to put the moves on her. And, although my best friend wouldn’t admit it—not to herself or anyone else—she had already fallen for Molly’s brother at that point.
“So, Abby, tell us more about yourself,” Mrs. Lockhart—Wendy—says after closing her menu, ordering, then handing the menu to the waitress. “How did you and Caleb meet?”
I clear my throat, readjust the napkin on my lap, and clear my throat again. The waitress catches my eye from across the table and her brows raise. Is she waiting for my answer to Mrs. Lockhart’s question, or for my dinner order? I’m not quite sure.
“How did we meet?” I ask, glancing over at Caleb. He’s blushing too, and he’s staring holes into his napkin. Great. No help there. “We met, uh… How we met. Um.”
Rob Lockhart tilts his head and studies me as I struggle to string together a perfectly normal sentence, like a normal human being, and my palms begin to sweat. Profusely.
I mean, I can’t very well tell him I met his son when I climbed out the window of the neighboring fraternity house. He’ll think I’m a… a… slut. Or a puck bunny, or whatever it is they call those girls who chase hockey players for the popularity.
“They met when she climbed out the second story window of the shithole next door.”
At this pronouncement, all eyes go wide and everyone gapes at Blaze as he innocently pops a loaded tortilla chip from the appetizer platter into his mouth, chewing and gazing up at the ceiling.
Jenna swallows her water too hard and begins coughing. “Was.” Cough. “Not.” Cough. “Expecting.” Cough. “That.”
Wendy and Rob hesitate for a second, but then both start laughing. Maybe I’m being hypersensitive right now, because I’m not quite sure if it’s regular or laughter of the uneasy variety. The kind of fake laugh you push out when you’re hoping for the best, but expecting the worst.
Laughing, laughing, laughter.
Oh god. I’m hysterical. Someone slap me.
“Good one, Blaze,” Mr. Lockhart says with a chuckle, his eyes crinkling at the corner. It’s not really a smile, but it’s good-humored.
Caleb stiffens beside me as Blaze winks at us, popping another chip into his mouth, watching me with those hooded green eyes as he chews. It’s unsettling and unguarded, but also hard with an underlying meaning, almost like he’s challenging me to tell the truth.
Wendy’s attention is back on me, her eyebrows now raised into her hairline as she waits patiently for an explanation. In fact, glancing around the table, I realize we now have the attention of our entire party. Our friends, who only moments earlier were ignoring us completely in favor of their own conversations, are now riveted to what I’m about to say.
Caleb beats me to it. “We met when Abby was walking by the house one Saturday morning. Then I bumped into her again that day at Wal-Mart, and we started talking.”
Thank you, God. Have I mentioned I’ve never liked him more than I do at this moment?
“Well, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Mrs. Lockhart asks, relief that maybe I’m not a hussy spreading across her features.
“That’s what she said,” Cubby cackles, slapping his palm against the tabletop.
“That’s what she said,” Shelby repeats, disgusted. “Why do you always say crap like that?” A sneer mars her pretty face.
Cubby snorts. “Der. Because I like it.” He throws a handful of salt packets at her. “Besides, Weston does it too.”
Molly nods. “Yup, he does.”
“That’s what she said is my all-time favorite.” Weston inhales a cheese curd, licking some ranch sauce off his thumb. “That, and pissing off her brother. Oh, and taco dip.”
Cubby smugly turns to Shelby. “See?”
Both Wendy and Rob ignore the bickering. “With these yahoos hanging around, I don’t blame Caleb for keeping you to himself. Although a text telling us about your existence would have been nice.”
Rob looks pointedly at his son but shoots me a grin.
“Not to mention a little reassurance to his folks that our boy here isn’t batting for the other team,” Blaze adds. “Swing batter, batter, swing!” Shelby elbows him in the gut. “Ouch, I’m kidding, like it matters. But trust me, he’s hetero. It doesn’t happen very often, but we’ve all seen Showtime getting his rocks off.”
Shelby nudges him again, the pointy end of her elbow digging into his ribcage.
“Shit, stop,” he says. “I’m kidding.” But the entire time he’s shaking his head and mouthing, I’m not kidding, to the rest of the table.