“Are you eating enough?” she asks, poking at me like I’m some stuffed animal.
“Yes, Mom. Really. I’ve put on more muscle.” I’m not sure if that’s entirely true, but it’s possible. I always slim down this time of year. In the summer, I make a conscious effort to lift weights, bulk up a bit, and then slim down as the fall and winter seasons begin.
“Edith,” Aidan says, pulling attention away from me. “I love the decorations you put up this year.” It’s a little early to be decorating for Christmas. Putting anything up before Thanksgiving is sacrilege in my opinion. My mother disagrees.
“Oh, thank you. I’ve been collecting these for years, but I’ve finally amassed enough to create a proper village. Here, I’ll show you.” She grabs Aidan’s hand and leads him toward the cabinet in the living room. It is indeed a whole village. At this point, it’s probably a proper city.
I take the opportunity to stare at them, the scene so familiar and distant at the same time. Aidan turns back to me for a second and mouths, “Okay?”
I nod, and he turns his attention back to the figurines. He’s so focused on everything she’s saying, asking questions, and pointing at items, that he doesn’t even notice me. It gives me a few seconds to study him and assess how he’s changed over the years. He’s filled out a bit, no longer all limbs. I doubt he spends much time at the gym, but he’s still in good shape, with broad shoulders. He’s wearing a pair of jeans that hug every curve of his body, showing off his bubble butt.
Fuck. I shouldnotbe checking out my friend’s ass. I shake my head and follow the sound of the TV to the living room to find my father.
AIDAN
“This here is the church.” Covey’s mom points toward a big piece with a tall steeple. “Well, the main one. There’s asmaller one over here.” She pulls me toward the end of the buffet. “That way, people have options for the kind of service they want to attend.”
I’m a little concerned about who she thinks the people are in this situation, but I seem to be sticking theoohsandahhsin all the right places. I might not have the full job description for this fake boyfriend role, but I’m almost positive that it includes distracting overzealous parents and acting impressed at the décor.
The deer-in-the-headlights look on Covey’s face when I got back from hanging up our coats told me everything I needed to know. His family means well, but sometimes I think they drive him crazy on purpose.
If I thought for even a second that Covey was struggling, I would be the first person to say something. There’s no way I’d put his health at risk. We may not be dating, but he’s still my friend. Best friend.
“Here you go, Aidan,” Covey says, coming up behind me and putting a hand on my shoulder. I find myself leaning into his touch. Ever since we kissed, I’ve craved being close to him. A feeling I’m trying not to examine too carefully. I’m a touchy-feely guy, so it’s probably the lack of physical contact in my life over the past few months. Or years.
“Thanks, sweetie.” I hope no one else in the room notices the shock on his face when I saysweetie. I could feel the way his muscles tensed before he pulled himself together. It’s still fun to be able to surprise him.Note to self: call Covey by more pet names.
“You’re welcome… honey.” I clap a hand over my mouth, barely able to hold back a chuckle. Fortunately, Edith doesn’t seem to notice any of it.
“Ah, aren’t you two so cute. I’m sure you’ll be married in no time.”
That one comment ruins the warm fuzzy feeling that spread through me a minute ago. Covey and I might be able to get out of this relationship without broken hearts, but will our families? I clear my throat a few times, hoping it dissolves the tightness.“Is dinner ready?”
“Oh, of course. Covey, why don’t you go call your father in from the living room, and I’ll get it on the table.”
A few minutes later, the four of us are gathered around the table, plates full of lasagna, enjoying a story about the raccoon that nearly tore the whole garage apart at Covey’s father’s job.
Covey pushes his food around his plate, eyes glazed over, and only occasionally humming his approval for the story.
“What’s up?” I lean in and whisper in his ear. The sudden urge to put my head on his shoulder shocks me. I pull back a bit and bite my bottom lip.
“Yeah, it’s just…” He doesn’t finish that sentence.
“I know.” I put a hand on his leg and give his thigh a slight squeeze. I can’t help but close my eyes for a few seconds, letting the sensation ground me. It feels so natural, like this is how things have always been.
“Oh, you two will have to spend some time traveling together. Maybe go camping this summer,” Edith suggests.
I don’t think either of us is the roughing-it type. If I’m going to sleep outdoors, I’d prefer a glamping situation—one with running water and air conditioning.
“Maybe the boys would prefer to go to Europe. Covey could show Aidan around,” Covey’s father suggests. And yeah, I’d like that. Maybe a friend trip will be in the cards this summer.
“Covey, is the lasagna okay? You haven’t eaten very much.”
“It’s great, Mom,” he replies as he pushes a bite across hisplate. I can see his anxiety growing by the minute, his leg jackhammering beneath the table.
“I’ll be right back,” he says as he scoots back from the table and heads upstairs.
The table is quiet for a minute after he leaves. “I’m going to check on him.” I don’t wait for a response.
