Page 108 of Spring Break Fling

“Are you sure about this?” I asked her.

“About what?”

“Me meeting your parents. I’m not typically the guy anyone wants to meet their parents.”

She looked at me in her mirror where she was carefully putting her hair up in what she said was a messy bun. I didn’t get it. She was spending a lot of time making her hair look messy. I liked it but I didn’t get it.

I was stretched out on her bed watching her get ready. Never before did I have the privilege of watching a woman get ready. There was something magical about how meticulous Hannah was. Every movement was precise, calculated. Even getting dressed was like a strategic operation.

“My parents are going to love you,” she said confidently. “Well, my mom will. My dad might take some convincing.”

“Why’s that?” I asked, propping myself up on my elbow.

She turned, giving me a look. “Because you look like you could be in a motorcycle gang.”

I glanced down at my tattoos, grinning. “I am in a motorcycle gang. Sort of.”

She laughed. “Not helping your case.”

“What if I offer him a tattoo?”

“Just don’t put your initials on him.”

Her phone buzzed. A text from her mom confirming dinner plans. Hannah had been talking about this dinner for days. Her parents lived about an hour outside Boise on a farm.

“I thought your parents were chill,” I said.

“They’re hippies. But they aren’t bikers.”

“Shouldn’t they all be peace and love?”

“They are peace and love,” Hannah said, rolling her eyes. “But they’re also parents. My dad’s a farmer. He’s used to protecting things. And right now, that thing is me.”

I chuckled. “So, I’m walking into the lion’s den?”

“More like the organic vegetable patch,” she said. “But yeah, basically.”

“My mom will ask a million questions. Just go with it. My dad might seem gruff, but he’s a softie underneath. And whatever you do, don’t mention tariffs.”

“Got it,” I said. “No politics. Just smile and nod.”

“Now, I need to set the table and clean up. The lasagna will be done soon.”

I rolled off the bed. “Put me in, coach. Tell me what you need me to do.”

“Follow me.”

While Hannah bustled around the kitchen preparing a fresh salad to go with dinner, I rolled up my sleeves and got to work washing dishes. We’d fallen into a comfortable rhythm—she cooked, I cleaned, and we both joked around with each other the entire time.

“So, you and your parents are all good now, right?”

She paused, slicing radishes. “Yeah, we’ve been on good terms for a while, but it wasn’t always like that.”

“Rocky teenage years?” I guessed.

“Oh, you have no idea,” she said, laughing softly. “When my parents got me and my sister back from our grandparents, I was a mess. Angry, confused, hurt… you name it. I rebelled. If they said something was blue, I would say it was red just to piss them off. If they asked me to clean my room, I trashed it.”

I put down the dish I was scrubbing and leaned against the counter. “Why were you so angry?”