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Authors: Laura Jardine
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agree. That’s just far too much suffering for one weekend.”
“It really is.”
God, the bacon smelled good. Allison took it out of the pan and put it on a paper towel. She reached for the carton of eggs.
“So you saw my housemates from university,” she said. “What about yours? Are you still friends with them? Do they live in rundown, mouse-infested houses?”
He glared at her, but she was looking at the eggs, cracking them into a bowl.
“Dylan got married three years ago. He has four kids.”
“Four kids in three years? Or did some of those come before he got married?”
“No, they have triplets.” Sidney couldn’t imagine what that was like. “He’s pretty busy. Haven’t seen him in a while. But I saw Travis and Jose a few months ago. They act like they’re still in university.”
“Unlike you.”
“Yes, unlike me.”
“In some ways, I don’t think you’re as different as you claim.”
He got two plates out of the cupboard. “Do I want to know?”
“Probably not, but I’ll tell you anyway.”
“I figured as much.”
She adjusted the heat on the stove. “I don’t believe trying to have serious relationships was you pretending to be something you’re not. No, I think refusing to have relationships is you pretending to be something you’re not.”
He hadn’t expected her to say something like that .
“Is that what you think?” he said. “We didn’t see each other for ten years. Hell, you even refused to be Facebook friends. I don’t know how you can say that when we hardly know each other now.”
“It’s just a feeling I have.”
“Well, you’re wrong.” He put some bread in the toaster, then leaned back on the counter and crossed his arms.
But she was sort of right. Having serious relationships back in the day—that wasn’t him faking it. He’d liked it. However, he didn’t see avoiding relationships as not being true to himself or some such bullshit. It was just a smarter life choice.
Allison sighed. “I think we better stop this conversation if we’re going to make it to the end of the weekend.” She stirred the scrambled eggs. “Maybe we should try silence. Or counting to a million.”
“You think we can make it to Sunday evening?”
“Sure. But it’ll be easier if we cut down on the talking. Just shove your tongue down my throat whenever you feel the need to speak.” She looked at the clock. “Damn. We still have ten hours until we meet your parents. Ten hours of just you and me alone.”
And ten years ago, that would have sounded like paradise. Though actually…
Ten hours. That could mean an awful lot of sex. Which was still good. As long as they weren’t interrupted like yesterday.
But they were.
Chapter 7
The knock at the door—six quick knocks, in fact—came when Allison was reclined on the couch, arching her back up as Sidney swirled his tongue over her breast.
Damn. It was like the world was telling her she shouldn’t have sex. But there was nothing wrong with responsible sex, even if it was with her ex-boyfriend. It felt amazing, and it prevented her from stabbing him. So it really was the smart thing to do.
“Again?” he muttered. “Can we ignore it this time?” He ran his finger over her wet nipple.
“No.” She reluctantly slapped his hand away. “It’s my sister.”
“Jo, right?”
“Yeah. She always knocks the same way.”
Allison sat up, fastened her bra, and pulled on her shirt. No buttons on this one. Good. Fewer things she could screw up.
“What do you want me to say?” Sidney asked. “Or should I hide?”
“I…Whatever.” She threw up her hands, exasperated. But not with him. No, with Jo. Like her parents, her sister loved to show up without warning. “Just don’t say anything too stupid. Don’t tell her about the bet, okay?”
“Okay.” He adjusted his shirt. “At least I hadn’t gotten the condom out this time.”
“I suppose I should be grateful for the small things in life.”
She
“It really is.”
God, the bacon smelled good. Allison took it out of the pan and put it on a paper towel. She reached for the carton of eggs.
“So you saw my housemates from university,” she said. “What about yours? Are you still friends with them? Do they live in rundown, mouse-infested houses?”
He glared at her, but she was looking at the eggs, cracking them into a bowl.
“Dylan got married three years ago. He has four kids.”
“Four kids in three years? Or did some of those come before he got married?”
“No, they have triplets.” Sidney couldn’t imagine what that was like. “He’s pretty busy. Haven’t seen him in a while. But I saw Travis and Jose a few months ago. They act like they’re still in university.”
“Unlike you.”
“Yes, unlike me.”
“In some ways, I don’t think you’re as different as you claim.”
He got two plates out of the cupboard. “Do I want to know?”
“Probably not, but I’ll tell you anyway.”
“I figured as much.”
She adjusted the heat on the stove. “I don’t believe trying to have serious relationships was you pretending to be something you’re not. No, I think refusing to have relationships is you pretending to be something you’re not.”
He hadn’t expected her to say something like that .
“Is that what you think?” he said. “We didn’t see each other for ten years. Hell, you even refused to be Facebook friends. I don’t know how you can say that when we hardly know each other now.”
“It’s just a feeling I have.”
“Well, you’re wrong.” He put some bread in the toaster, then leaned back on the counter and crossed his arms.
But she was sort of right. Having serious relationships back in the day—that wasn’t him faking it. He’d liked it. However, he didn’t see avoiding relationships as not being true to himself or some such bullshit. It was just a smarter life choice.
Allison sighed. “I think we better stop this conversation if we’re going to make it to the end of the weekend.” She stirred the scrambled eggs. “Maybe we should try silence. Or counting to a million.”
“You think we can make it to Sunday evening?”
“Sure. But it’ll be easier if we cut down on the talking. Just shove your tongue down my throat whenever you feel the need to speak.” She looked at the clock. “Damn. We still have ten hours until we meet your parents. Ten hours of just you and me alone.”
And ten years ago, that would have sounded like paradise. Though actually…
Ten hours. That could mean an awful lot of sex. Which was still good. As long as they weren’t interrupted like yesterday.
But they were.
Chapter 7
The knock at the door—six quick knocks, in fact—came when Allison was reclined on the couch, arching her back up as Sidney swirled his tongue over her breast.
Damn. It was like the world was telling her she shouldn’t have sex. But there was nothing wrong with responsible sex, even if it was with her ex-boyfriend. It felt amazing, and it prevented her from stabbing him. So it really was the smart thing to do.
“Again?” he muttered. “Can we ignore it this time?” He ran his finger over her wet nipple.
“No.” She reluctantly slapped his hand away. “It’s my sister.”
“Jo, right?”
“Yeah. She always knocks the same way.”
Allison sat up, fastened her bra, and pulled on her shirt. No buttons on this one. Good. Fewer things she could screw up.
“What do you want me to say?” Sidney asked. “Or should I hide?”
“I…Whatever.” She threw up her hands, exasperated. But not with him. No, with Jo. Like her parents, her sister loved to show up without warning. “Just don’t say anything too stupid. Don’t tell her about the bet, okay?”
“Okay.” He adjusted his shirt. “At least I hadn’t gotten the condom out this time.”
“I suppose I should be grateful for the small things in life.”
She
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