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Mrs. Danvers laughs. “Sweetheart, you forget that your father and I were, believe it or not, young once. You’ve both had every talk imaginable—probably twice over for Cooper between us and his parents. Be smart, be safe, and know you can always come to us with anything.”
“Every generation feels like they’re having a unique experience,” Mr. Danvers says.
“Dad,” Tatum complains. “Jesus.”
He chuckles, pouring more wine for him and his wife. “Just wait until you get to the hereditary portion of your classes and you find out what else isn’t unique to you.”
Tatum groans, leaning into me. Her parents grin, toasting to each other. My lips twitch and my chest expands every time she turns to me for support.
“Do your parents like to gross you out with embarrassing stuff like this?” she mumbles.
“Worse, babe,” I murmur. “They’re yogis.”
I relax and finish off my dinner. Tatum’s parents took it as easily as mine did when I texted to tell them I was dating her. Step one done. Next step, smooth things over with Jackson.
After I help clear the table, I tell Tatum I’m going to talk to her brother. She meets my eyes with hope brimming in hers. I chuck her beneath the chin and wink.
Jackson pauses when I step out, leaning against the door to his house. His expression twists and he takes his shot. It sinks in perfectly.
“Nice,” I say.
“Shut up.”
Sighing, I push off the door. He passes me the ball and I dribble while I mull over how to say this to him. “I want to fix this.”
“Then you shouldn’t have touched my sister,” Jackson bites out, crossing his arms. “We had a deal.”
“I know.” I catch the ball and squeeze it between my palms. “I never expected… I was never going to break it. We shouldn’t have gone behind your back.”
Jackson’s brows flatten. “Yeah, sure. You’re a patron fucking saint. Why do you think I made you swear she was off-limits in the first place?”
The comment stings. Has he always worried I’d make a move on her? That I’d hurt her? That’s not me.
“Tatum snuck up on me.” Turning away, I take my shot, attention trained on the basketball. “She’s funny and smart. She’s helped me figure out my degree. She took me by surprise, man. I like her.”
Truth bleeds into my words. It backs me up for the lie, but it makes my chest feel hollow from the Tatum-sized hole carved out of it. This plan has to work.
“But she’s my sister, you dick.” He watches the ball roll by his feet without retrieving it. “You could have your pick of any chick in town. Hell, out of town, too. Why her?”
Jackson’s sister. Friend. My mind rejects both things.
“Why not her, dude? She’s perfect. I came over to talk to you so you could see that this isn’t going away. But I don’t want to fuck up our friendship. You’re still my boy.”
He scoffs. “Are you asking my permission?”
“I guess.”
“You’re supposed to ask a girl’s dad for that.”
“Well, yours took it just fine.” I blow out a breath, running a hand over my hat. “Look, nothing’s changed. We’ve all been hanging out and it hasn’t been a problem.”
“How long?”
“What?”
“How. Long,” he snaps.
Shit. I should’ve waited to go over this with Tatum before talking to him. Fuck it, we’ll have to roll with whatever I tell him now.
