“We do look cute together,” I said. “We should make the parents take a picture.”
Chris gave me a funny look, then smiled like I’d made her day. “I’d like that.”
Usually she was the sentimental one in our relationship. I never would have expected that from her, but I didn’t mind it either.She was super affectionate, always touching me, bringing me little gifts, or commenting on how pretty I looked.
She hadn’t said anything about her feelings since that night we’d agreed to be girlfriends for real, but I got the sense her feelings for me were deepening, the same way mine were for her. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking. I was pretty sure I was in love with her, but I had no idea how she really felt about me. It seemed weird that she’s never said anything. But then again, we were having a great time, and we weren’t in a rush to go to the next level. We could let things develop in their own time.
Both sets of parents were waiting for us in the lobby of the restaurant, presumably driving over together since they lived so close to each other. Both of our fathers were wearing navy suits, and both of our mothers were wearing black dresses, as if they’d coordinated.
“Did we miss the memo on matching?” I asked curiously.
“What do you mean, honey?”
I stared at my mother for a beat, realizing that she truly had no idea, then shrugged. “Never mind.”
A few minutes later we were seated at a table near the far corner of the restaurant, Chris at my side. We got all the way through the presentation of the wine and ordering food before the inquisition started.
“I guess you girls are getting pretty serious,” my mother said, giving us a meaningful look.
Chris and I exchanged a look, then shrugged in unison.
“Will we be hearing wedding bells soon?” Chris’s mother asked.
I picked up my spoon and started twirling it in my fingers.
“It’s too early for that kind of talk,” I said. “We’ve been dating for seven months.”
“But you’ve known each other all your lives,” Mrs. Robbins pressed.
“Ma.”
Chris filled that one word with a world of warning. Her mother ignored it.
“I’m just saying…”
“Enough.”
We all froze and looked at my father. He was normally a pretty easy-going guy but now he definitely looked irritated.
“Let’s just enjoy dinner without harassing the girls, shall we?” he asked, his voice back to its usual mild tone. “They’re still young.”
My mother opened her mouth, looked at my father’s expression, then closed it again.
“Fine, what do you want to talk about then?”
Thankfully, the conversation moved on after that. Dinner was delicious, of course, although exorbitantly expensive. Both Chris and I tried to contribute, but our fathers insisted on splitting the bill between them. As we waited for the server to run the charges, I started to feel restless, the way I always did when I sat in one place for too long, especially once my morning ADHD medication had worn off.
“Julia, for heaven’s sake, stop fidgeting,” my mother chided. “You know how annoying that is to everyone.”
I gripped a handful of the tablecloth under the table, squeezing it in my fist while I pressed my feet into the floor, trying to ground myself.
I felt Chris place her hand on my thigh, her touch warm and comforting.
“Fidgeting is part of Julia’s ADHD,” she said. “You must know she’s not even aware that she’s doing it.”
I froze. My mother froze. My father sent me a confused look.
“ADHD? What are you talking about Chris? Julia’s not some hyperactive little boy.”
