“Well, they all sound like making out,” I agree, then give a tiny shrug. “Some nicer than others, but all are first base, I guess.”
“What base constitutes a little over the shirt action, then?” Whit toys with the stem of his wineglass and the look he’s wearing makes me want to melt in my chair.
“I feel like they’ve had this conversation before,” Prim says with a quiet chuckle.
“Purely in the interests of US-British relations, right, Mimi?”If you’d just stop purring your words, Whit, people might not be so suspicious.
“Second base,” I rush on, finding I have to swallow over my suddenly swollen tonsils, “is action all above the waist.”
“Under the shirt or over?” Brin asks. “See, snogging Priya was strictly over.” He makes a grabbing motion with his hand, throwing in a honking sound just for laughs.
Lavender isn’t so amused and makes a disgusted noise. “No wonder Priya changed her pronouns.”
“She did?” Brin seems surprised.
“Yes, they’re nowthey slash them,” Lavender murmurs. “I wonder if the experience with you left its mark.”
“Is that Lavender cracking a funny?” El presses a pondering finger to his chin. “It’s amazing what life you find when you put your phone down, eh?”
“Leave her alone,” Whit mutters, topping up his mother’s glass. His very happy mother’s glass who has made so many references to how wonderful it is to have almost all her children around her. “More wine, Mimi?” He holds the bottle over my glass in anticipation. I rest my hand over it with a shake of my head.
“But you’ve only had a glass,” El protests.
“It is lovely, but I’m not a big drinker.” I reach for my water glass instead as my mother’s voice echoes in my head.Everything in moderation, Mimi.I’m pretty sure an overload of meat and veggies won’t kill me this once.
“Think she’s nodded off with her eyes open?”
El’s joking tone brings me back to the moment. “Food coma,” I say, lifting my water. “Just a mini one.”
Thankfully, the Whittington clan seem to have lost interest in any explanation regarding the rest of the bases, though I’m not done myself as I slip off my shoe and stretch my foot out. I can’t quite reach third base, but I can run my toes up Whit’s leg. Why? Because I have had so much fun today. I’m so happy he ignored my arguments and persuaded me to tag along.
I don’t need wine to make me feel warm and fuzzy because the way Whit keeps glancing at me makes me feel like that anyway. He wants me. And I want him, always, but seeing him here with his family just makes him all the more perfect.
And who doesn’t want perfect, even if just for a little while?
“…honestly, El. She wasn’t interested!”
I come back to the conversation at Heather’s giggled words.
“She was totally into me.” Elbow on the table, El does the chair-based equivalent of a swagger.
“Really?” Heather scrunches her nose unconvincingly. “And you could tell that just from looking at her in that chainmail bikini?” Oh, they’re talking about Friday night. His exploits with the server? “Because your eyes weren’t exactly on her face.”
“Of course I looked at her face,” he complains. “Eventually.” His siblings all chuckle.
“She gave you her number, then?” Brin throws his napkin across the table at him.
“Not exactly.” Balling it up, he volleys it back.
“But you asked her out?”
“Yeah.”
“And?”
“Well, her lips might’ve said no, but her eyes said—
“Read my lips,” Heather butts in, making everyone laugh again.
