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Chapter Fourteen
O’Shea
On Sunday evening, we rolled down a long, gravel driveway, a large ranch-style house appearing in the distance. A white porch stretched along the front of the house, adorned with hanging plants, rocking chairs, and a few small tables. I smiled to myself. It was as if the house was plucked straight out of a Country Living magazine. The sun slowly set over the horizon, a beautiful mix of oranges, pinks, and reds, making the house and the beautiful green land surrounding it look like a watercolor painting. Parking in the circle in front of the house, Ashton and I got out of the truck and made our way to the house.
Her white, sleeveless dress swished around her legs as she walked, her dark hair slightly fluttering in the evening breeze. She’d only wore light make-up, but she still looked beautiful as ever. I’d kept my outfit casual, settling for a pair of dark jeans and a black Polo shirt. If I were being honest, I was a little anxious about meeting her parents. After that run-in with her ex-boyfriend a couple of days ago, there was no telling how her parents would react to her being roommates with a black man.
She looked at me with her bright blue eyes and grinned. “Are you nervous?” she asked as we walked up the steps to her parents’ front door. I scoffed.
“Of course not. Parents love me,” I tossed back with a grin. “So when they ask me my name, do I say my actual name or the genital bumping buddy thing we agreed on?”
Her eyes widened in slight horror. “We definitely didn’t agree on that! Don’t you dare!” she spat in a whisper.
I shrugged. “Pretty sure you said yes. Actually you said, ‘OMG you’re so right. We should bump genitals when you get home because you’re soooo good and I’m sooo horny,” I said, making an attempt to imitate her.
She laughed and playfully pushed me. “I don’t sound like that and I definitely didn’t say that. I swear you’re full of shit,” she mused. “Oh, and I kind of told my mom that we became roommates when you responded to an ad flyer I left at Rocky’s shop.”
“Uh…why did you tell her that?” I asked, raising an eyebrow at her.
“Because she’d have a whole cow if she learned that I’d posted about it on the Internet. Let’s just say she watches too many crime shows in her spare time,” she whispered.
“Ah, got it. We met at Rocky’s shop because you thought I was so irresistible that you just had to have me as a roommate,” I teased as she rang the doorbell.
“This dinner is going to turn into your memorial service if you keep up with your shenanigans,” she said with a smirk. An awkward silence settled over us as we waited. Things had been a little odd between us ever since that quickie on the couch on Friday. She’d started crying in the middle of sex, but wouldn’t tell me what was going on with her. She’d speak to me, but it was like she had a hard time making eye contact with me. Anytime I tried to bring it up after that, she brushed it off, saying it wasn’t important. She’d pull away if I touched her or tell me that we should slow down when things suddenly became hot and heavy. I wasn’t sure what was going on with her, but hopefully this didn’t mean that what we had going on was going to go downhill.
The front door whipped open, revealing a woman who looked like an older version of Ashton, but with lighter hair. Her blonde hair was thrown in a messy bun, showing off her lightly weathered skin with a few wrinkles, yet still glowing. Her plain white t-shirt and denim jeans hugged her petite frame. I can definitely see where Ashton got her curves from. Her smile was warm and inviting, her blue eyes sparkled with excitement as she looked at us, clasping her hands together.
“You’re finally here!” she exclaimed and looked at me. “You must be her roommate; please, come in!” She waved us in and stepped aside. Ashton stepped inside, her flowery perfume hitting me as she passed. I closed the door behind us and looked around. A single table sat in the middle of the foyer, a vase full of fresh flowers sitting in the middle of it, filling the space with a rose scent. The hardwood floor shined under the lighting, the high ceilings making the space feel airy and cozy at the same time.
“Hey, space cadet, are you going to stand in the foyer all night or come into the living room?” Ashton joked a few feet away. I followed her into the living room, noticing an older man sitting in a recliner and a teen girl curled up on the couch, her face hidden behind a Seventeen magazine. The living room was cozy, warm browns and cream colors filling the space and the aroma of fresh flowers and dinner coating the air. More flower-filled vases sat on the end tables along with small picture frames. Family photos lined the walls of the living room along with abstract artwork, a large flat screen hanging over the unlit gas fireplace.
“Man, this place is beautifully decorated,” I commented. Her mother beamed at me and straightened her posture.
“Thank you! I like to think I was an interior designer in my past life,” she stated, a pleased look on her face.
“I have no doubt in my mind about that. It’s beautiful,” I said, glancing at Ashton to see her smirking at me.
“Well, I’m Janice, that’s Savannah on the couch,” she gestured toward the teen girl, “And this is—”
“Phillip, her father. Pleasure to meet you,” the man interrupted as he stood, extending his hand to me.
His green eyes bore into me as he firmly shook my hand. His chestnut hair was slightly thinning toward the top, his balding spots up front evident in his combed back hairstyle. He was an inch or so shorter than me and a little on the chubby side with a beer belly, appearing to be in his late fifties. His button-up shirt was tucked into his pants, which were pulled up to the middle of his stomach and held up with a belt.
“Pleasure is mine, sir. I’m O’Shea,” I responded with a smile.
“O’Shea sounds a lot better than Steve,” Phillip mentioned, adjusting his pants. Ashton cut her eyes to him and frowned.
“Dad,” she gritted.
Phillip held his hands up and sat back in his chair. “Just saying, honey.”
The teen girl looked up from her Seventeen magazine, blowing a bubble with her gum. She looked like a younger version of her sister with her blonde hair and blue eyes, almost looking like a life size doll. Her eyes appeared bored as she looked me up and down. She made no effort to get up, simply shifting in her seat to sit up a little bit. Her jean capris and red tank top gave her a simple look, her hair pulled into a messy bun.
“Hey,” she said, lifting the magazine back up.
“She’s not excited about new people in general,” Ashton whispered to me. I nodded as we moved over to the love seat and sat down.
“We’re glad you’re joining us tonight for dinner,” Janice gushed, sitting on the couch next to Savannah.
