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“How long? And how… is it?”
Micah and I have been hanging out for weeks. Hell, two months plus have passed since the first night I went to his house. But it wasn’t until this past weekend, a few days after he made love to me for the first time, that we slapped a title on our relationship. That we dubbed each other boyfriend and girlfriend. Granted, we had been in the role already, we just hadn’t given it a name.
But with the direction of our relationship, we figured, why not? In all ways, we fulfilled the role. Why not give the title to everyone who asked?
“For a while. Things are great.”
The second half of my response left intentionally vague. She didn’t outright ask anything specific. All aspects of our relationship are great, so the answer isn’t false.
As she opens her mouth to ask another question, a customer steps up to the bar and distracts her. I take the opportunity to walk off under the guise of restocking the bar.
Down the hall, I unlock and enter the storage room across from the office. On the opposite side of the hall, the office and employee lounge divide the space. The storage room, though, takes up the whole length and is roughly twice as deep.
Everything is organized by type, brand, and what sells faster. Beer fills more than half the space with kegs and cased bottles stacked high. Liquor sits on industrial shelves in rows. Paper goods, glassware and miscellaneous shelf-stable goods fill the remainder of the room.
I grab the items jotted down and set them on a rolling cart we keep for larger restocks. Exiting storage, I lock up and push the cart slower than necessary. Not because it has an overabundance of glass or weighs a lot. More because I want to creep out and locate Kaylynn before she does me.
Peering around the corner, I spot her wiping down the bar. With her back to me. As I round the corner, cart in tow, she reaches for the broom and gets to work on the floors.
Thank god.
Kaylynn is nice. Probably had no ill-meaning behind her inquisition. But I hate being in the position to say no, I don’t want to share my life with you. Especially with someone who I have somewhat known a little more than a year.
Micah locks the door after the last person leaves. One pro Monday through Thursday… we close early. Much as I love the energy in those late-night hours on Friday and Saturday, I don’t miss the exhaustion it brings. Yes, I miss the upbeat tempo and bass vibrating my bones. But not much else. If Micah and I still worked Friday and Saturday together, it wouldn’t be like the other days. We would both be too busy to stop and say hello, much less wave across the packed club.
Kaylynn finishes the last of her cleanup as Micah and I stash the Bar Olympics tables in the storage room. We wave her off and do one last sweep of the bar and club before leaving.
I shoulder my purse while Micah shuts off the lights. We walk out, hop in my car and drive toward home.
“Stop by the house so I can grab some clothes.”
“Sure. What sounds good to eat?”
At the mention of food, Micah quiets for a moment. His focus out the passenger window with his chin resting on a loose fist. From my vantage point, he appears too serious to be weighing food options.
On our side of the Bay, less than a mile from the house, he speaks up. His voice more reserved than usual.
“Sorry. Was just thinking.”
“About?”
“This Sunday is family dinner night.”
“Okay.” I drag out the second syllable.
“And…” He tucks his lips between his teeth, swallows, then meets my gaze. “Mom wants me to bring you.” My eyes widen briefly. “But please don’t feel pressured to come if you don’t want to,” he adds quickly.
Have we reached this point in our relationship? Hell, less than a week has passed since we officially declared ourselves a couple. Does official status equal meeting the parents?
A thin layer of sweat blankets me and makes my clothes cling to my skin. White noise blocks my hearing as my heart pounds harder with each beat. My knuckles whiten as I fist the steering wheel.
Thank god we reach his house without me running a light or rear-ending someone.
I don’t think it is his parents that have my nerves bouncing like live wires. But the step of meeting family is huge. It screams the legitimacy of our relationship. That I am no fluke. That Micah plans to have me around for weeks and months, and possibly years, to come.
Don’t get me wrong, I love that he feels this way toward me. That I am not a random woman in his bed. He pictures more for us in the future. He wants there to be a future.
Me from a year ago—hell, four months ago—would laugh at the idea of a steady, solid relationship with Micah Reed.
Me today… she smiles painfully big.
Meeting the parents is a big deal, but we have overcome so much in the last three months. If I found a way to forgive Micah for his past discretions, I can swallow my nerves and join his family for dinner.
I pull into his driveway, throw the car in park, and shut off the engine. Since he said his parents wanted me to join family dinner, Micah has sat deathly quiet with his eyes on my profile. And I am grateful he allowed me a moment to digest the request without interruption.
“Dinner on Sunday would be nice,” I say as I twist to face him.
His bright smile I love makes an appearance as he leans forward and kisses me. “Are you sure?” I nod. “Okay. We’ll talk more about it later. For now, I want to grab clothes, my toothbrush, then some food.” He plants a chaste kiss on my lips, then exits the car.
Once he has everything, we drive off and stop at the Chinese restaurant near my place. It is one of the few places that has late hours. One massive bag of noodles, rice, veggies, and meat later, I drive to my apartment.
As I park in front of the building, it dawns on me I didn’t warn Reese. Not that an actual warning is necessary. More like I don’t want us walking in the door and interrupting anything. Seeing as I haven’t been at the apartment much in the last week or two, Reese has probably had his boyfriend over more. And neither of them understands quiet, if you catch my drift.
Like someone on the prowl, I creep up to the door, slowly insert my key and twist even slower. Micah looks at me as if I have lost my mind. I don’t care, though. Twisting the knob, I tiptoe inside and listen for any sounds of fornication.
Micah chuckles behind me. “Will you just go.” He taps my ass. “No one will jump out and grab us.”
I slap the air behind me, straighten my spine, and step out of the way for Micah to enter. “Sorry. Just wanted to make sure the couch wasn’t occupied.”
Leading Micah to the kitchen, he sets down the food and his overnight bag. His brows pinch together at the same time his lips pucker. “Does that usually happen? Your roommate having sex on the couch.”
His ears must have been ringing because, as Micah finishes speaking, Reese strolls into the kitchen. With no shirt on. And sweat dripping down his abdomen.
“Who’s having sex on the couch?” he asks and my cheeks heat.
