The Charlotte Chronicles (Jackson Boys 1)

“Sleep well, dear?” Mom asks, her tone completely cool despite the tinge of red around her cheeks.

“Yup,” I say. “Nathan’s a big comfort.”

Dad coughs and shifts around with some discomfort, as if he’s still trying to hide that sex exists in this world. I wonder if he was a horndog before he met my mom. I bet he was and that’s why he’s all embarrassed now. Past sins and all. He should be grateful I’m in love with his best friend’s son. And I tell him so.

“You should be happy it’s Nathan and not some random jerkface from school.”

“We are,” Mom answers and shoots Dad a repressive look. He merely grunts.

Inside the refrigerator I find the makings for a sandwich. Humming, I assemble bread, turkey, a couple slices of bacon, and tomato along with lettuce, cheese, and mayonnaise. I’m ravenous, and it takes me almost no time to demolish half the sandwich.

There’s a weird silence, and when I look up from my plate I see both parents gaping at me.

“What?” I ask wiping a finger along the side of my mouth. “Do I have mayo on my face?”

Mom smiles, but her lips are trembling with suppressed emotion. Dad clears his throat, and this time he talks for both of them. “It’s just nice that you have your appetite back.”

I take a big bite of the second half of my sandwich. “Um, okay. But it’s because of Nathan, you know,” I say slyly as something occurs to me. “He’s always on me to eat more.”

I hadn’t had much of an appetite before, but now? Now I do. And I’m going to need to have a lot of fuel for the next two weeks that I have left with Nathan if last night was any indicator. My big ass grin is back, and I hide behind my food this time.

My parents stare at me, but eventually their faces hold big smiles too.

“Nate’s welcome any time,” Dad says as he watches me finish the last of my meal.

Even if it means that his baby is having sex, I mentally translate. I’ll let Nathan know he can sleep under the covers tonight.

* * *

“I’m going to sleep here tonight,” I whisper to Nathan as he and his brother and two other random people on the Internet work together to kill enemies in the game. He pauses the game and whips off his VR glasses.

“Hey,” Nick objects but cuts himself off when he sees Nate’s look. Nick says something in his microphone and pushes out of his chair. “I’m going to piss.”

Nate waves him off. When the door to the game room closes, he turns to me. “How did you get the okay for that?”

“I ate an entire sandwich today.”

“Is this code, because I don’t have the key to decipher it.”

I reach for the hair on the nape of his neck and feel him shiver against me. “I told my dad you were responsible for my increased appetite.”

“You didn’t,” he groans, but his head dips down in an unspoken gesture for me to pet more of his head. Taking advantage of Nick’s absence, I straddle Nathan’s lap, ostensibly so I can get a better angle for the head scratching, but really I want his body next to mine. He’s so warm all the time. I love it. It’s like having my own personal heater.

His hands drop to my hips and pulls me closer until the centers of bodies are flush against each other. This contact heats me up in a completely different way—from the inside out. I start to rub against him, drawing on the memories of our interaction last night. He made me feel amazing, and I want to replicate those emotions over and over and over. As many times as I can.

He groans and tightens his hold on my hips but doesn’t push me away. I tug on the hair at his nape, and his face falls back obediently. When I kiss him, his lips are firm and soft and his hard length pushes insistently against me.

We kiss for a long time. They are lazy kisses. The types of kisses you exchange when you have all the time in the world, sitting on the beach or lying on a blanket at a concert in the park. They’re kisses that shut out the whole word so that it’s just you and him and everything on the periphery is a beautiful blur, like an Impressionist painting.

“I need to tell you something,” he says, finally pulling away from me. I don’t want to stop, so I follow him as he draws back. Talking isn’t half as interesting as licking his tongue or having him give me tiny bites along my lower lip. I know what it is that he wants to tell me, but I don’t really care about that nonsense. However, he isn’t deterred and pushes me back.