“It was… interesting. Still a virgin, to quell your curiosity.”
She shrugs. “There’s always tomorrow.”
I laugh and shake my head before making my way to the upstairs bathroom. Most moms would be pleased thattheir twenty-one-year-old daughter is still a virgin, right? My mom is less pushy than my friends but more than other mothers I’ve met. She falls somewhere in the middle of being a compassionate supporter of my choice while also putting pressure on me to use it before I lose it, which I consistently remind her is a ridiculous concept.
After a quick shower, I change into a pair of leggings and a tank top and head downstairs.
The front door opens.
“Mom! We’re home,” Anthony calls as Nick trails in behind him.
Anthony’s eyes meet mine, then he smiles warmly and pulls me in for a hug, pressing a quick kiss to the top of my head. “Hey, munchkin. How was your week?”
“Good. Yours?”
He nods. “Busy, but good.”
Anthony has always been more like a dad to me than anything else. A ten-year-age gap and a runaway biological father will do that to you. Neither of us have ever seemed bothered by it, though. He was the one who taught me how to ride a bike; how to change a flat tire. Then there’s Nick, who’s always been the typical brother.
“High five?” Nick smiles before ripping away his hand and walking past me. “Too slow.”
I scoff and shake my head. “Aren’t you a little old for that?”
“Nope,” he says, popping his P. Then he presses a kiss to Mom’s cheek and plops himself down at the dinner table.
“Nicholas, if you don’t take your shoes off at the door, I’m going to beat your fucking ass with them,” my mom sighs. There’s no heat to her words but all the promise in the world.
He snickers at that, quickly kicking off his shoes before jogging over to the front door.
For a twenty-six-year-old, my brother really acts like he’s still living that fraternity life.
I help Mom set up everything for dinner, and we fall into easy conversation.
A few minutes later, Nick’s phone buzzes with a text. He grabs it and reads it with furrowed brows, then quickly types a message back.
His phone buzzes again.
“Do you have to text at the table?” my mom sighs.
“Sorry, it’s just… Kolter texted me.”
Tension fills the room as all eyes swing to Nick.
“Kolter?” Mom asks, a soft hopefulness to her tone.
“Yeah, he said he’s sorry he hasn’t been around in a while and wants to come to dinner next week, if that’s okay with you.”
“Why didn’t he text me himself?” she asks.
Nick shrugs. “You know how he is—probably embarrassed he hasn’t been around in years.”
Anthony frowns like the news has upset him, and for some reason, his eyes move to me, watching me curiously. I stare back at him for a moment before dropping my gaze to my food.
“Fine, tell him he’s always welcome, but don’t warn him about the ass-beating I plan to give him for practically disappearing on us these last six years. That boy has a world of hurt coming to him,” my mom tsks.
Nick quickly texts him back. Then he smiles. “He says he’ll be here next week and he’s ready for the wooden spoon.”
Mom laughs at that, and Anthony gives a soft nod like he approves, or maybe he just likes that Mom’s happy. Me on the other hand? I’m ready to throw up all over this dinner table.