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I shrug. “I don’t know…to have fun? You’re not obligated to stay with us.”
He’s quiet again. This time when I look back up at him he’s frowning. “You’re right, I’m not. I’m staying because I want to. I came here with you.”
Our eyes lock as the words slowly sink in and pummel my solar plexus. What does this mean? What the heck does this mean? What is happening here?
I really don’t understand all these vibes flying between us and all this heavy mental lifting, trying to figure them out is exhausting.
Which only validates what I already know. That I’m not cut out for dating and I’m bad at relationships. If I can’t even figure out what to do about my roommate being nice to me, how the heck am I ever going to deal with someone I have an actual chance of dating?
“What’s up, bro,” Steven says, approaching, a smile already in place. After Grant and Steven shake hands, Steven’s warm eyes move to me and he says, “Amanda. Thanks for coming.”
“Thank you so much for inviting us,” I reply. Even though I really don’t want to be here.
Then he leans in, placing a kiss on my cheek, and the warm body molded to my side turns to stone. Grant’s reaction seems a bit dramatic if you ask me. It’s not like Steven’s a threat to my welfare. He’s only being a gentleman.
Beyond Steven’s shoulder, I watch a boy approach us. He walks with so much swagger it’s hard not to stare like he’s a side-show freak. He’s wearing too much hair product, the collar of his polo shirt is flipped up, and a Rolex sits on his wrist. Wait a minute…a Rolex? I steal a second glance. Yep, it’s a Rolex.
“Jeremy, come meet my new friends,” Steven says, motioning the boy over. His son. This party is definitely a mistake. Jeremy walks up to us and nonchalantly raises a hand.
“Hi.”
Jeremy reminds me of a diminutive Rico Suave. Or a pimp.
“Hi, Jeremy. Nice to meet you,” I say. Beside me, I can feel Sam shrinking as Jeremy openly sizes him up.
Jeremy’s assessing glance moves over to Grant. “Hey, man, can I get some swag to give to my friends?” he asks with the blasé attitude of someone accustomed to getting what he wants.
Grant’s brows pop up. “Nice to meet you too, Jeremy. And no. Swag goes to charity,” Grant answers with a fake smile. Though I wonder if anyone else realizes it’s fake.
“That sucks. What about tickets?”
“Those also go to charity. But your dad is a season ticket holder. Right, Steve?”
Steven is frowning at his son. “Yeah, J. Why would you ask for tickets?”
Jeremy looks less than totally confident for the first time. “For this chick I like,” he mumbles.
What the bejeezus??
Steven’s face tightens in what is unmistakable embarrassment. “That’s not gonna happen,” he gently reprimands. “Take her to a movie.”
His focus slides between me and Grant. “Boys, right?” When neither of us respond, it returns to his son. “Jeremy, why don’t you show Sam your play room?”
A terrifying image of a red padded room with fancy whips and wooden crosses comes to mind. Player Jeremy scares me. For a dark moment I entertain the thought of giving Sam a safe word.
“Yeah, sure.” He gestures to Sam. “Come on.”
Sam looks up, unsure what to do. “I’ll be right here if you need me. I’m not moving from this spot,” I tell him.
Nodding, he puts a brave face on and follows player Jeremy. Watching them walk away tugs at every protective motherly instinct in my body. Why do I feel like I just handed a wolf my best lamb?
“They’ll be fine,” Steven assures me when he sees the look on my face. “Jeremy will take care of him.”
That’s exactly what I’m afraid of.
Two hours later I’m ready to call this party over. While Grant gets harnessed into signing memorabilia, I go in search of my son.
I’m walking down a long corridor when I hear two female voices speaking in an open bathroom, the marble floors serving as amplifiers to every sound.
“He’s so fucking hot. I’m calling dibs.”
“Fuck that, I saw him first. And did you see his hands. Can you imagine the size of his dick.”
Their laughter bounces off the walls. It’s so over the top I’m certain they’re trashed. I feel bad for whoever these two are hunting.
“He came with that old chick and a kid but I’m pretty sure he’s single. I don’t think it’s his. I Googled him and it says nothing about a kid.”
A kid? That old chick?
“I’m going. I want Steven to introduce me.”
I hear them coming and scramble out of the hallway and into an empty bedroom. Two minutes later I’m back to searching for my son and hit pay dirt in a room that looks like an arcade.
