A Very Bossy Christmas - Kayley Loring Page 0,36
a bath towel wrapped around my waist and Maddie’s leaning against the dresser. She’s fidgeting, and I’m glad. When she sees me, her gaze sweeps down the length of me, and she reaches back to steady herself. I’m really fucking pleased about it because I was beginning to think she’d become immune to me.
I proceed to get dressed. I had already laid my clothes out on the bed. I can feel her eyes on me, and I can feel how nervous she is right now.
“So, your whole family knows I’m coming, yes?”
“Yes. They’re looking forward to meeting you. You don’t have to be nervous.”
“Believe it or not, I’m always a little nervous when I meet my boyfriends’ families for the first time.”
It is totally irrational, how I am seized with jealousy at the notion of her meeting the families of her other boyfriends. Of her “real” boyfriends.
“Exactly how many boyfriends’ families have you met, exactly?”
“Only five. And, I mean, two of those boyfriends were from high school, so I really only met them because we didn’t have our drivers licenses yet and needed a ride.”
“And the other three? They were serious?”
“No.” She looks down at the floor. “I wouldn’t categorize them as serious.”
“Then why’d you meet their families?”
She shrugs. “I think they wanted to impress their parents, to be honest.” She laughs. “They were kind of deadbeats. I had a good job. Y’know. I’m sure their parents would have preferred they got better jobs, but at least I won them a few points.”
“I get that,” I deadpan. “I hope mine finally get off my back for not becoming a surgeon.”
She smiles, shaking her head. “This is so crazy.”
“What is?”
“Me pretending to be your girlfriend.” She watches me for a response.
I finish buttoning up my shirt. “Why?”
She shrugs again. She seems so vulnerable all of a sudden, and it’s killing me just a little. “Am I dressed okay? I forgot to ask if it’s going to be casual or formal, or…”
I walk over to her, tilt her chin up, and kiss her, just once, lightly on the mouth. As soon as I do, her hands go to my waist and she rests her forehead against my chest. She isn’t wearing heels, for once, and she seems a lot smaller today. I kiss the top of her head and wrap my arms around her shoulders. “I had a great time last night.”
“Me too.”
“I want to do that again.”
She laughs. “Which part?”
“Definitely the beginning part. And the thing on the sofa. And the part where I made you come just from kissing your—”
“Okay, okay. Let’s not get too detailed right before going to your family thing.”
She gives me a little pat on the ass, and I can tell she isn’t nervous anymore.
“It’s casual,” I tell her. “But I’d advise against wearing tight jeans.”
“Why?”
“Because you’ll be eating. A lot.”
“These aren’t all that tight,” she says, sticking her fingers between the waist of her jeans and her belly. “There’s a little room to grow.”
“You’re gonna need a lot more room than that. Did you bring sweatpants? A tracksuit?”
She scoffs. “You’re wearing regular pants.”
“These are one size up, can’t you tell? I’m wearing a belt, which I will be loosening throughout the day. Put on a stretchy dress or something.”
“I don’t want to wear a dress if everyone else is casual.”
This is such a relationship-y conversation, and it’s making me really happy again. “Okay. Wear whatever you feel comfortable in. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.” I give her hips a little squeeze before going back over to the bed to finish getting ready.
“Advice noted, thanks. I ordered a cab to pick us up in an hour. You didn’t eat breakfast, did you?”
“No. Did you?”
“Yeah. I ordered room service. Is that okay?”
“You could have ordered it in here. With me.”
She twists her lips to the side. “It didn’t seem like a good idea.”
“As opposed to what we did last night?” I raise my eyebrows at her and then waggle them.
She crosses her arms in front of her chest. “I don’t recall a discussion or detailed written description of the extent of this discreet, temporary simulated consensual romantic relationship.”
I put my jacket on and cross my arms in front of my chest too. “Let’s negotiate right now. Shared meals in private—in bed or out of it—are on the table.”
“Agreed. Private serenading of Christmas carols—on the table.”
“Enh. I’ve heard you sing, and I’m going to have to pass.”
“Screw you.”
“Absolutely. On the table… Under the table…”
Eye roll. “Naked