Pretty Sweet - Christina Lee Page 0,20

with warmth. Likely this had more to do with the smile he was putting on my mother’s face. For that I would always be grateful.

“Well, we obviously think you should join us,” Mom said, patting the seat behind her. I loved seeing that lightness in her eyes—even if she’d definitely had more than her share of wine—and if that was the kind of playfulness Seth brought out in her, I was all for it.

After grabbing a beer from the fridge, I sat down beside Mom and finished watching an ’80s movie with them, while they swooned like schoolkids over some hunky older brother on the screen.

“Even Jake has to admit he’s cute,” Seth said, pointing toward the television.

I shrugged. “Eh. Whatever.”

He raised an eyebrow. “C’mon, even a straight guy can appreciate how attractive he is, all buff and sexy.”

My face flushed at the comment. Part of me was afraid he saw the truth I was hiding, while the other part wanted to blurt out that I wasn’t so straight after all.

And besides, muscular guys were so not my type. Wait a minute, I had a type? Yeah, suppose I did.

“Okay, sure.” I scoffed. “Now will you stop asking?”

Seth high-fived Mom as if they’d gotten me to admit some secret password instead of a dude’s good looks. If Mia were here, she’d have some words for me about promoting toxic masculinity or something like that, and she’d be right. It was stupid to be this afraid of voicing an opinion, especially in front of someone I trusted with my life and a new friend, who I knew purely by instinct was a good person.

When the movie was finally over, I stood up to stretch, lifting my hands over my head. My shirt was no doubt riding up—which was ridiculous to even think about right then because who the hell cared if I had skin showing? Except I could feel Seth’s gaze searing into me, and for some reason, I liked how that felt. When I glanced in his direction, he looked away, his cheeks flushed. Tipsy Seth was too damned funny.

After I dumped the empty wine bottles and stored the remaining Oreos, I handed Mom and Seth some ice waters to help them sober up, or they’d be hurting in the morning. As Seth gulped the cool liquid down gratefully, his eyes snagged on a pack of cards from the other night when Mom and I played Rummy.

Seth insisted we play a game called Ninety-Nine, which required dollar bills as well as counting. It turned pretty comical when neither of them was able to concentrate long enough to tally the numbers and dissolved in laughter instead.

“I think we need to call it a night,” I said when Mom accidentally knocked the deck of cards off the table and Seth snorted loudly. I looked pointedly at Seth before squatting down to gather the cards. “You shouldn’t be driving home.”

“I can take an Uber,” he replied, fumbling for his cell on the table.

“I can drive you,” I asserted.

“Nonsense, he’ll stay overnight.” Mom gripped the table as she stood, probably so she wouldn’t fall over. “It is a pajama party, after all.”

“That’s okay.” Seth’s voice was thick. “I can—”

“Sounds like a plan,” I replied. “The couch is surprisingly comfortable.”

Unfortunately, my house was only a two-bedroom, so I didn’t technically have a guest room. Suppose I would soon, though.

Seth looked relieved. “You sure?”

“We’re sure,” Mom said. “Let me grab some sheets so I can—”

“I got it handled, Ma.” I gripped her shoulder and kissed her cheek. “Go on to bed.”

“Thank you, honey. See you in the morning.”

She blew her partner-in-crime a kiss, then headed toward the stairs.

“I’m, uh, gonna use the bathroom,” he said, suddenly looking like he might topple over.

I followed behind him down the hall to make sure he didn’t smack into anything, and once he got himself inside with the door shut, I headed upstairs to grab a spare pillow and sheets.

I had just finished prepping the couch when he came up behind me, looking a bit green.

“All set. You should get some sleep.”

Sinking to the couch, he sighed and pulled the covers to his chin, his eyes shutting immediately. There was that innocence again that was so goddamned endearing. I seriously hoped someone treated him like he deserved someday. I wished that for Mom too, even though trusting in that concept might prove difficult for the both of us after she was treated so poorly by my father.

Christ, why was I