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“You on your way? You’re late.”
I fly up into a sitting position, probably looking like one of those possessed characters from a scary movie. “Huh? What are you talking about?” I ask, pulling my phone away to look at the time on the screen. “I have ages. It’s only—OH FUCK!”
Shooting out of bed, I barge through my apartment in a mad rush to get to the bathroom, trying to strip off my clothes as I go. Mom is going to kill me!
Austin laughs, always having found the utmost joy in my misery, especially when that misery means my parents will be too busy scolding me to bother pestering him about his love life . . . or lack thereof.
“Mom only turns fifty once,” Austin reminds me as I put the phone on speaker and barge through the door of my bathroom, tossing my clothes across the room. “The only thing she asked for was for us all to be on time for once.”
Shit. Shit. Shit.
I lean into the shower and turn on the taps before noticing the red and white wristbands still braced around my wrist, and as the water warms, I whip around and search through my makeup bag for my tiny nail scissors, desperate to cut them off. Though, would it be weird if I kept them? Maybe hidden away as a secret memento to remember my night with the wild caveman who fucked me all night and made me come three times? Yeah . . . maybe that’d be weird.
“First off, Mom is turning sixty. Not fifty. And I’m notthatlate. Just tell her I’m right around the corner and then she’ll be happy and get distracted asking how the restaurant is going. I’ll slip through the back door. She’ll never know.”
I hear Austin’s cringe through the phone. “If only it were that simple. I’m still an hour out.”
“WHAT?” I shriek, finally getting the wristbands off and dumping them in the top of my makeup bag. “Ahh shit. We’re both fucked. It’s going to be like last Christmas all over again.”
Austin groans. “Shit.”
“Wait,” I say, stepping into the shower and keeping the door open so I can continue my conversation. “How’d you know I was late if you’re not already there?”
“Because you’re Aspen. You’re always late.”
“Am not!”
Austin scoffs. “Just hurry up, dork. I’ll see you later.”
He doesn’t bother with a goodbye, simply ends the call as I reach for the shower door and pull it closed. I do what I can to race through my shower, scrubbing all the important bits and trying to remember if I washed my makeup off when I got home in the early hours of this morning.
I lather up my loofah and get to work, sailing down my legs and back up, detouring through the center and sucking in a breath, finding myself still a little sore from my wild night, but fuck, it’s a welcome feeling. I put it to the back of my mind, determined not to get carried away.
It’s already ten in the morning. I don’t know how I managed to sleep through my alarm. Actually, I know exactly how I managed that, but what’s important is that Mom’s birthday lunch is at twelve. If it were any other lunch, to Mom, that’d mean we would all need to be there by ten thirty at the latest. Considering it’s her sixtieth birthday, arriving any later than ten for a midday lunch is already considered late.
Thankfully I washed my hair and shaved all the important bits before Becs dragged me out last night, so it doesn’t take too long to get myself all squeaky clean. After stepping out of the shower, I quickly towel dry before pulling on a cute summer dress—my baby green, spotted backless one, the one I know Mom has always loved. Then because I know there’s a good chance that Izaac will show up, I pull the sleeves down over my shoulders, showing off just enough skin to remind him I’m not a child anymore . . . not that my tricks of the trade have ever worked before, but there’s always hope.
I pull my hair up into a long ponytail and add all my favorite jewelry before rushing through my makeup routine. I give myself a golden not-so-natural glow and hit my lashes with just enough mascara to make my eyes pop. Finally, I grab my overnight bag and shove everything I need into it.
I live close to campus, but it’s still a twenty-five-minute drive back to my parents’ place. Considering it’s only a quarter past ten, I’ll still beat Austin there, and that’s all that matters. I’ll be the favorite child today.
Hurrying out of my small apartment, I quickly lock up before making my way down to the parking garage and getting on my way. I crank the music to ease my nerves.
Going home is such a simple task, but knowing Izaac will be there creates such a stir in me. Since being in college, I haven’t spent much time at home outside of birthdays or holidays, and since Izaac is Austin’s chosen brother, he never misses a single family event.
His family is our family, and our family is his. It’s been this way since the moment he and Austin met as kids, and I grew up right alongside them.
After making great time on the highway, I park my car and slip in through the back door. Mom is busy slaving away in the kitchen. “Hey, Mom,” I say, walking straight into her and wrapping my arms around her. “Happy birthday.”
“Oh, my sweet girl. Thank you,” Mom says, locking me in a warm hug. “When did you get here? I didn’t hear you come through the door.”
I grin to myself, my plan working like a charm. “I got stuck talking to Nancy from next door. She was admiring your rose bushes,” I tell her. “But I don’t blame her. They’re looking incredible. What are you feeding those things?”
Mom laughs and pulls back, determined to get back to her cooking, but I quickly step in and take over, wanting her to relax on her birthday. Only Mom isn’t one of those women who can handle standing around, and she gets right to work on something else. “I got myself a new garden boy,” she tells me like it’s some kind of secret. “He’s not very good at the lawns, but when he prunes the bushes, he prunes them well.”
I can’t help but laugh. “Mom!”
“What? He’s a very handsome young thing. Maybe I should give him your number,” she muses. “You know, he likes to work without his shirt, and he’s got quite a fit body, very muscly, and has one of those V thingies. You know, like an arrow pointing right to his—”
