“Trust me,” Fitzy mutters from the couch. “You’re lucky you didn’t.”
Logan snickers. “You poor thing—a hot blonde was throwing herself at you. How dare she!”
The other guy flushes. “She asked to see my dick!”
“And that’s a problem because…？”
As Morris and Garrett start laughing their asses off, Fitzy just shrugs. “Aggressive chicks aren’t my thing. I like going at my own speed, all right?”
I’m tempted to call bullshit, because he sure didn’t seem to mind when Sabrina’s friend Carin dragged him to her car for a hookup. But Fitz and I haven’t really spoken about that night, so I stay quiet. Besides, if I mention the double date, everyone will demand to know who I was with.
The last time we saw each other, Sabrina teased me that I’m not telling people about us because I’m ashamed of her. Which is so not the case. My friends have a bad habit of sticking their noses into each other’s love lives—case in point, Garrett’s obsession with Dean and Allie. So yeah, I’d rather not have my relationship with Sabrina dissected by everyone, not when it’s still so new.
And anyway, I know she’s secretly relieved that we’re on the DL. The one time I used the word relationship to describe us, she got all weird and fidgety on me.
“Okay, I gotta bounce,” I tell the room. “Any other grown-up issues we need to discuss, or can I go?”
“Go,” Garrett grumbles, making a shooing motion with his hand. “You were no help anyway.”
*
Sabrina
Tucker’s tongue is in my mouth before I can even close the front door. Despite the ripples of heat that assault my body, I force myself to wrench away from the kiss. Nana’s in the kitchen, and I don’t need her walking out and witnessing this.
“My grandmother’s home,” I murmur.
I expect disappointment, but he simply nods. “Cool. Want to introduce me?”
The one thing I’ve learned from dating Tucker this last month is that absolutely nothing fazes this guy. He takes everything in stride, adjusting and adapting as needed. I don’t even know what he looks like when he’s annoyed.
“I should warn you—Nana’s a bit…outspoken.” That’s my tactful way of saying rude bitch. As we head for the kitchen, I pray that my grandmother won’t be a jerk to Tucker.
She’s at the table when we walk in, flipping through an issue of US Weekly. “Did Ray forget his key again?” Nana asks without looking up.
“Um. No.” I shift awkwardly. “Nana, this is Tucker.”
Her head flies up. Immediately, interest fills her gaze. She studies Tucker from head to toe, so blatant in her ogling that I feel my cheeks heat up.
“Nana,” I chide.
She snaps out of it. “It’s very nice to meet you, Tucker.” She emphasizes the word very.
Great. My grandmother is hitting on my…well, I’m not sure what he is. But Nana’s seductive tone still isn’t cool.
“I’m Joy, Sabrina’s grandma.”
“It’s nice to meet you, ma’am.” He extends his hand for a shake, and she holds it a little too long. Long enough that he looks uncomfortable when he steps back.
“Sabrina didn’t mention she had a boyfriend.”
“We’re just friends,” I answer.
Tucker’s shoulders tense.
Aw fuck. I wasn’t trying to hurt his feelings. I simply don’t want Nana getting all nosy and asking us when the wedding is or some shit.
“I thought you were too busy for friends.” She lifts a mocking brow.
I grit my teeth. “I’m not too busy for friends. I hang out with Hope and Carin, don’t I?”
Rather than answer, she turns back to Tucker. “So, what are you two friends up to tonight?”
I speak before he can. “We’re going to hang out in my room for a while. Maybe watch a movie or something.”
A knowing smirk curves her lips. “All right then. Try to keep the volume down, hmmm?”
And we all know she’s not talking about the television volume.
Cheeks scorching, I drag Tucker out of the kitchen. “I’m sorry,” I say when we’re in the hall. “She can be inappropriate.”
His steady gaze finds mine. “Why would it be inappropriate for her to ask what we are to each other?”
I avert my eyes. He’s got me there.
Truth is, the reason I don’t want Nana asking questions is because I don’t have any answers. I don’t know what Tucker and I are to each other. All I know is that I miss him when he’s not around. That every time a text from him pops up on my phone, my heart soars like a cluster of helium balloons. That when he looks at me with those heavy-lidded brown eyes, I forget my own name.