Daniel: Don’t laugh. I live in terror of the day she learns to lie well.* * *I’m a quarter mile from the trailhead when my phone starts beeping, ringing, and buzzing like it’s possessed, though it turns out to just be the group text I’ve got with my brothers, not a demon.
The group text is probably better. Probably. A demon might be less nosy, though.
Caleb: Anywhere is fine. I actually hadn’t thought about it yet.
Seth: Your mind elsewhere?I decide to ignore him, turn my phone to silent, and keep hiking. I should probably be figuring out what I’m bringing to Thanksgiving tomorrow — Eli sent an email about what he’s assigned each of us — but more than anything, I needed to escape, clear my mind, and get some exercise.
Admittedly, I’m mostly thinking about Thalia. I’m thinking that we should go hiking out here instead of only ever having dates in my house. We’ll go somewhere far from campus, and no one else is ever out here. We won’t get recognized.
I’m wondering when I can bring her to Sprucevale to meet my family. I’m wondering if I can get Seth to keep his mouth shut about the fact that she’s my student.
And about last night.
I think about last night a lot, actually. Hard not to. The way she said fuck, it’s so good. The sounds she made. The way she fit me like a glove, the way I could feel every tiny move she made, the way she looked as she slid down my cock —
I sigh out loud and glare at a squirrel, forcing myself not to think about it any more. The squirrel glares back.
“What’s your problem?” I mutter, and it runs away.* * *Me: I hate Monopoly.
Thalia: Did you lose to Rusty again?
Me: When you play Monopoly, doesn’t everyone lose?
Thalia: That’s not very sporting of you.
Me: Monopoly’s not sporting, it’s stupid.
Me: How was the drive to Norfolk?
Thalia: Uneventful. How’s Sprucevale?
Me: Well, I’ve lost twice at Monopoly and Seth gives me a knowing look every thirty seconds or so.
Me: But otherwise, it’s good. I hadn’t seen Thomas for a couple of weeks and I swear he’s twice the size he used to be.
Thalia: You can’t just say that and not send a picture.I oblige and send her one that Daniel took of me and my nephew. He’s yawning in my arms, and I’m making that same face back at him.
Thalia: Ugh, what a cutie.
Me: Thanks. I really think this shirt brings out my eyes.I can practically hear her sigh and try not to laugh.
Thalia: The baby is also cute.
Me: How’s Norfolk?
Thalia: It’s been better.
Thalia: Oh, Bastien wants to know if any of your brothers are single and gay.
Me: Seth’s technically single but not gay, unless he’s REALLY closeted.
Thalia: What about that guy who’s not your brother?I’m standing in the upstairs hall of my mom’s house, briefly escaping the madness of Thanksgiving Day, and at that question I look up at the wall in puzzlement.
There are a great many guys in the world, and the vast majority aren’t my brother.
Thalia: The one whose sister is marrying Levi.
Thalia: I mean, they look alike.
Thalia: June? Is that her name?
Me: Oh, you mean Silas?
Me: Also, what, did you make flash cards of everyone?
Thalia: If I’d made flash cards I’d have known his name.
Thalia: And yeah, Silas. Hetero?
Me: Hetero and too old for Bastien.
Thalia: Bastien says he’ll be the judge of that.
Me: Nope, I’m doing the judging.
Thalia: Suddenly critical of age differences?
Me: Fifteen is a lot more than six.
Thalia: You’re so good with numbers, have you ever thought of doing something with that?
Me: Nah, I don’t think I’ve got much of a future in math.* * *“How’s Thalia?” Seth asks, holding a huge tray of leftover turkey and staring into the refrigerator.
“Who?” I ask, standing beside him. “We should probably turn the fridge off for a minute. This looks like a whole project.”
“I meant to come over here and clean it out before today,” he admits. “And don’t play dumb, idiot.”
I reach up and turn down the temperature dial on the fridge, because finding spots for all the leftovers is going to take a while, and there’s no sense in wasting all that electricity.
There were over twenty people at Thanksgiving, and even though we sent everyone home with food, there’s still an astonishing amount of leftovers, and it’s fallen to Seth and I to figure out how to fit it all into my mom’s fridge.
“Can we move these shelves? That one’s a weird height,” I say, pointing.
“Ignoring my question won’t make it go away,” he points out, taking more stuff out of the fridge, putting it on the chair currently propping the fridge door open.
“Yes, it will,” I say.
“No, it’ll make me ask it louder,” he says. “Eventually, I’ll have no choice but to ask how Thalia’s doing so loudly that everyone in the house will hear me, and I bet they’ll also want to know how Thalia’s doing. They might also have follow-up questions.”