her mom is home.
This is the problem with going to people's houses. Now I have to meet the parents? My shoulders square as we step into the kitchen, spine stiffening.
Jaden and her mom share the same hair color, but as far as similarities go, that's about it. They have matching noses, small and sloped. But Jaden's eyes are green. Must be her dad's. And her smile.... Jade's is way more genuine.
"This is Parker," she says, introducing me. "Parker, this is my mom and my nephew, Joshua."
So I was wrong about Jaden being an only child. She has a nephew.
Her mom eyes me carefully, curiosity radiating in waves. This woman hates me already. I can feel it. Part of me wants to give her a reason to. I can play into the stereotype. I can be anything these people want me to be. But the rational, more level-headed side prevails.
I can be Mr. Perfect, too.
"It's nice to meet you, Mrs. McEntyre," I say, extending my hand.
It works. I've caught her off guard. She shakes it, expression relaxing as she shifts Jaden's nephew to her other leg.
"You too. Jaden tells me you're working on a paper together?"
"A series of papers, actually."
"It's a pretty big project. On Ethan Frome . That's why we get partners," Jaden explains.
"Sounds nice. Are you interested in sticking around for dinner?" she asks. But I know this game. This polite banter, this back and forth. No way does she actually want me to stay. I should say yes, floor them all—leave them scrambling for words, another chair, an extra place setting—but I take the bait and toss it back. "Thanks, but my dad will probably be expecting me when he gets off work," I lie.
At the mention of my father she offers another wary once over, then turns her attention back to the magazine she was reading when we interrupted. "All right, then," she says, licking the tip of her finger. "Don't let me keep you."
Jaden grabs a couple of drinks from the counter. "Come on." Then, to her mom: "We'll be in my room if you need anything."
I follow her past the long dinner table, back to the foyer. We've almost reached the stairs when: "Jaden?"
"Yeah?"
"Why don't you work in the front room? We won't bother you."
Jaden snorts, the idea amusing her. "Because it's freezing in there. And it's closed off in the winter, remember? Anyone who opens the door dies? Your words, not mine."
I swallow back a smile. Someone doesn't want us upstairs together. Alone. In a bedroom. Alone.
Fifteen minutes before Mrs. McEntyre is calling us, asking how we're doing, if we need anything—I guarantee it.
I follow Jaden up the stairs. The wall running beside us gives me more insight into her than anything I've seen so far. It's full of family photographs. Grandparents. Her mom and dad on their wedding day. She has two brothers—both older than she is, which makes her the baby of the family. And she's the only girl.
That explains the sense of entitlement.
I was right about the eyes, too. They're her father's. Her oldest brother's eyes are almost the exact same color. He's pictured again with his wife and Joshua. Next to them is a pig-tailed Jaden—she can't be more than six or seven. Her two front teeth are missing, but she holds nothing back. It's the biggest, cheesiest grin I've ever seen on a little girl, and it's hard not to smile back at it.
At the top of the stairs I spot a trio of baby portraits—Jaden and her brothers, their birth dates printed underneath.
She had a birthday not too long ago.
I study the year and do some quick math.
She just turned eighteen.
Eighteen.
I'm not sure what to do with this information now that I have it. It's almost too much, knowing this—that she's only three years younger than me. That she's a legal adult—free and clear to make her own decisions.
That she's not off-limits.
Technically.
I force the thought out of my head.
Jaden's bedroom is bright and airy—as bright as it could possibly be on such a cloudy day. It's nothing like Callie's place, with her matching
This is the problem with going to people's houses. Now I have to meet the parents? My shoulders square as we step into the kitchen, spine stiffening.
Jaden and her mom share the same hair color, but as far as similarities go, that's about it. They have matching noses, small and sloped. But Jaden's eyes are green. Must be her dad's. And her smile.... Jade's is way more genuine.
"This is Parker," she says, introducing me. "Parker, this is my mom and my nephew, Joshua."
So I was wrong about Jaden being an only child. She has a nephew.
Her mom eyes me carefully, curiosity radiating in waves. This woman hates me already. I can feel it. Part of me wants to give her a reason to. I can play into the stereotype. I can be anything these people want me to be. But the rational, more level-headed side prevails.
I can be Mr. Perfect, too.
"It's nice to meet you, Mrs. McEntyre," I say, extending my hand.
It works. I've caught her off guard. She shakes it, expression relaxing as she shifts Jaden's nephew to her other leg.
"You too. Jaden tells me you're working on a paper together?"
"A series of papers, actually."
"It's a pretty big project. On Ethan Frome . That's why we get partners," Jaden explains.
"Sounds nice. Are you interested in sticking around for dinner?" she asks. But I know this game. This polite banter, this back and forth. No way does she actually want me to stay. I should say yes, floor them all—leave them scrambling for words, another chair, an extra place setting—but I take the bait and toss it back. "Thanks, but my dad will probably be expecting me when he gets off work," I lie.
At the mention of my father she offers another wary once over, then turns her attention back to the magazine she was reading when we interrupted. "All right, then," she says, licking the tip of her finger. "Don't let me keep you."
Jaden grabs a couple of drinks from the counter. "Come on." Then, to her mom: "We'll be in my room if you need anything."
I follow her past the long dinner table, back to the foyer. We've almost reached the stairs when: "Jaden?"
"Yeah?"
"Why don't you work in the front room? We won't bother you."
Jaden snorts, the idea amusing her. "Because it's freezing in there. And it's closed off in the winter, remember? Anyone who opens the door dies? Your words, not mine."
I swallow back a smile. Someone doesn't want us upstairs together. Alone. In a bedroom. Alone.
Fifteen minutes before Mrs. McEntyre is calling us, asking how we're doing, if we need anything—I guarantee it.
I follow Jaden up the stairs. The wall running beside us gives me more insight into her than anything I've seen so far. It's full of family photographs. Grandparents. Her mom and dad on their wedding day. She has two brothers—both older than she is, which makes her the baby of the family. And she's the only girl.
That explains the sense of entitlement.
I was right about the eyes, too. They're her father's. Her oldest brother's eyes are almost the exact same color. He's pictured again with his wife and Joshua. Next to them is a pig-tailed Jaden—she can't be more than six or seven. Her two front teeth are missing, but she holds nothing back. It's the biggest, cheesiest grin I've ever seen on a little girl, and it's hard not to smile back at it.
At the top of the stairs I spot a trio of baby portraits—Jaden and her brothers, their birth dates printed underneath.
She had a birthday not too long ago.
I study the year and do some quick math.
She just turned eighteen.
Eighteen.
I'm not sure what to do with this information now that I have it. It's almost too much, knowing this—that she's only three years younger than me. That she's a legal adult—free and clear to make her own decisions.
That she's not off-limits.
Technically.
I force the thought out of my head.
Jaden's bedroom is bright and airy—as bright as it could possibly be on such a cloudy day. It's nothing like Callie's place, with her matching
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