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“Young lovers,” Grandma Brunhilda sighs dreamily, but she can’t keep her smile off her lips. “So romantic. So frisky.”
I make a sound low in my throat that probably resembles a wild beast getting chased by a pack of lions. I’m just glad neither of my grandpas is currently sitting at the table to start in on the ribbing. I don’t need to hear my grandparents reminisce about the days of their getting it on and finding broom closets. How the hell did Grandma know that was on my mind anyway? Good lord. How mortifying.
Gabriel just laughs it off. He shoves his chair back and extends his hand. “A dance sounds just about perfect. Is that what you came to fetch me for?”
“Uh, I came to ask you if you wanted a drink. I could definitely use one.”
“A dance and a drink. Sounds great.”
“And romantic,” Grandma Pearl says with another high-pitched tittle.
“And sexy,” grandma Brunhilda adds.
“Stop,” I warn them both. “That’s inappropriate.”
“Inappropriate my fanny,” grandma Pearl snorts. “We know where babies come from. Did you know they say that when a woman is born, all the eggs she’s ever going to have are actually inside her already? So technically, you came from me. I know all about conception and birth and everything that happens up to that point.” She winks at me.
Oh. My. Farging. God. Why? Just why? I’d ask what the actual fuck, but this is my grandma here, and I try not to drop F-bombs in front of her. So I just stare and slowly shake my head. And hope she gets the message.
“Is that actually true?” Gabriel sounds impressed.
“You bet it is, Sonny,” Grandma Pearl assures him. “I know my sciences.”
“Lord,” I mutter. Before anything worse can escape either of my grandma’s mouths, I grab Gabriel and tug him towards the dancefloor.
There’s some horrible slow, sappy, wedding song on that half the people there are swaying to. I hate slow and sappy. I actually hate dancing too. I’m very aware that as Gabriel’s arm slips around my waist and mine twine around his neck and our bodies bump together because it’s appropriate for this kind of dance—not because I want it to happen (no, I don’t always act on the commands from my lady bits and hormones, thank you very much)—that this is just going to add fuel to my grandmas’ fire. They’re probably already placing bets on a wedding date and a baby. Not necessarily in that order.
“I’m sorry,” I mutter, staring at Gabriel’s shoulder since I don’t dare look him in the eye right now. “They’re really inappropriate.”
“Funny, though.”
“They like to embarrass me.”
“They’re nice. Nothing wrong with having people who love you bug you just a little. I think it’s what they’re created for.”
Gabriel’s hand tightens on the small of my back, and he tugs me in a little to avoid crashing into a couple I don’t even know. They’re moving a bit fast for the tempo of the music, clearly dancing to their own beat while nearly taking people out all over the place. The result is that our knees knock a little, but other things also bump, which creates a flurry of excited shivers.
“I had a good time today. Your family is nice. The wedding was great, and I don’t really even like weddings.”
“Why? Because they’re sappy and corny and long or because you don’t believe that relationships actually last and it’s kind of a waste of money and time and effort all around for everyone?”
“That’s very cynical.” Gabriel drops his head and lets his breath puff out on my neck. It’s warm and misty. He’s probably the only person I’d rate breathing as being on the list of sexy attributes. Being alive could also classify since I’ve never seen anyone as effortlessly and wonderfully beautiful in a manly way as he is.
“Or the truth.”
“But your parents are still together. And your grandparents. Your sister looks really happy. I’m guessing this bad experience is all in your past and not past examples from your family.”
I can feel myself stiffen. “Yeah, I might have met some duds. But whatever.”
“Which is why you want to stay single, and which is why I’m here.” His words are whispered, still on my neck and right by my ear. His hand tightens just a little, protectively, when he says it. Like he can imagine all the douche wads I’ve dated and would like to give them an ass-kicking.
It’s kind of hot though I don’t want anyone’s ass kicked. It’s all in the past, the very distant past, but it still makes me feel oddly squishy on the inside.
I’m not sure how to respond to that without getting into my life story in the middle of a dance floor with a whole bunch of my extended family around to hear, so I take a chance and shift my face away so I can look up at Gabriel. A big chance. A big risk.
