After giving it some thought, I decide to invite Sasha to come. She’s not my girlfriend, but I can’t imagine asking anyone else. But I’m really into her these days, and it wouldn’t be painful to spend a whole night together.
I ask Sasha during anatomy lab when it’s just the two of us.
“Yourparents’house?” Sasha asks, genuinely surprised.
Christ, it’s not like I gave her anengagement ring. I carefully play it down.
“I just want a friend with me to help get me through the evening,” I explain. “Come on, aren’t you a little bit curious?”
“A little bit,” Sasha admits with a smile. “What should I wear?”
I pick Sasha up at five o’clock on Saturday night, and my parents are a forty-five-minute drive away. I told her to dress casual, and she looks… perfect. She’s wearing a knee-length skirt—could be shorter, but probably better it’s not since I’m bringing her to meet my parents. I like that I can see a tiny bit of cleavage poking out of her neckline. And when she leans forward, I catch a glimpse of a lacy black bra strap. So damn hot.
“Wow,” I say.
Sasha’s olive skin colors slightly, which is even sexier. “What?”
“You look… really nice.”
I can’t stop looking at her. I mean, I always think she’s attractive, butdamn.
And that’s when I decide: tonight, after we leave my parents’ house, I’m going to ask Sasha out on a real date. No-strings-attached sex is fun, but it’s not enough anymore. I probably sound like a tool saying this, but I want Sasha to be my girlfriend. I’m going to talk her into it somehow. I can be very persuasive.
“I love your car,” Sasha says as she climbs into the passenger’s seat. She sweeps her dark hair off her olive shoulders as she looks down at the gears. “You drive a stick?”
“Yep.”
“I’m impressed. Sticks are cool.”
She thinks I’m cool. Score one for Howard.
At first, I tune in to the radio, but we end up talking so much that I just turn it off. Mostly, we talk about school and our classmates. Sasha knows all the gossip, which makes me feel really out of the loop. I’ve been studying too much, I guess.
Then again, there’s no such thing as too much studying, right?
We get to my parents’ house just before six. I still have my keys to the front door, but I figure the polite thing to do is ring the bell. My mother would never forgive me if I busted into the house with company, not giving any warning.
My mother responds to the bell herself. She gets this huge smile on her face when she sees us, although she doesn’t hug me. We’re not a family that does lots of hugs, which is fine by me. My mom looks about ten years younger than the last time I saw her—all those lines on her forehead are gone. Botox, I’m almost positive. Not that I’d ask.
“Hello, darling,” Mom coos. Then she turns to Sasha. “And this must be Sasha.”
Sasha nods. “That’s right,” she says, fiddling with her shirt collar.
As we walk inside, I can smell dinner. It smells amazing. So much better than the cafeteria crap. I glance over at Sasha, who looks pale.
“What’s wrong?” I whisper.
“This place ishuge,” she whispers back. “When I lived at home, I shared a bedroom with my two sisters.”
I always thought of my parents’ house as just home, but now that Sasha pointed it out, I guess she’s right. The foyer opens up into an impressive living room, with three leather couches and the latest model in large-screen television sets. In the far corner of the room is a fireplace that is now burning bright-orange flames. A wide, carpeted staircase leads up to the second of three stories that make up the house.
I can see a little crease form between Sasha’s brows, and instinctively, I fling my arm around her shoulders. She stares up at me with her mouth hanging open—I’ve never done anything like that before. But she doesn’t push me away, so I count that as a win.
“Sasha,” my mother gushes, “I absolutelymustgive you a tour of the house.”
“Um… okay…” Sasha says.
“Mason,” my mother says, “would you be a dear and take your and Sasha’s coats into the den?”
