I was simply tired of letting fear make every decision first.
As we neared the main doors of the arena, his phone vibrated, and he removed it from his jacket pocket. “Ah.”
“Your parents?” I guessed.
He nodded. “They’re asking where and when we can meet.” He glanced at me. “And before you start panicking, I’ve told you. It’ll be fine.”
I thought quickly. “You should meet them first, without me.” He opened his mouth, no doubt to disagree, but I silenced him with aquick kiss. “Listen to me. This is a talk that belongs to the three of you. When you are done,thenI will meet them. Maybe somewhere for dinner?”
Dean regarded me steadily for a moment. “You know what? You’re right. I’ll message them to meet me at that cafe near the Forum. Then I’ll text you when?—”
“When it’s safe to enter the lions’ den.” I smiled. “A joke, but you do understand.”
“Yeah, I do.” Dean pulled me to him and pressed a kiss to my cheek, and I marveled at how easy it had become to do this in public.
I’m not afraid anymore.
I pulled back. “I was serious about dinner. I would love to eat somewhere that isn’t the cafeteria.”
“Hey, we can totally do that. I’ll get them to book a table.” Then Dean focused on my face. “Have your parents been in contact?”
The question caught me off guard.
I swallowed. “No.” Not after the kiss, not even after the silver medal.
For a second, disappointment flared before I could stop it.
I had spent years preparing myself for conflict. Somehow silence hurt more.
Dean’s expression softened immediately. “Hey.” Then he smiled. “This is where I warn you. My mom’s a hugger.”
“I have nothing against huggers,” I quipped. “Tell them where to meet you, then we will catch the Metro.”
Another kiss, and Dean’s thumbs got busy.
I could send a message to my parents, force a reaction.
Then I reconsidered.If they want to talk to me, they will.
I knew they would.
Eventually.
Dean
Mom frownedas I approached their table, staring past me. “Where is he?”
I laughed. “Oh,Iget it. You don’t want to see me. Thanks. I’ll go now, shall I?”
She squinted at me. “Give your mom a hug, or you’re a dead man.”
I gave her a hug, and she returned it.
“Carol, go order him a coffee,” Dad instructed.
I knew that tone.
Dad wanted A Talk.
