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We laugh.
“Then again,” he considers, lovingly shifting his gaze toward Mom, “if I didn’t put off General Chemistry, I wouldn’t have met my wife, so perhaps laziness has its rewards.”
She smiles. “Perhaps.”
I sip my juice, this time to distract myself as he kisses the back of her hand. The act of affection pulls me back, forces me to relive Connor’s gliding touch all over again. Warm fingertips grazing my face, my breast, my?—
“And how was last night?”
I cough, nearly choking on my juice. “What?”
“The party,” Dad says, taking the skillet off the heat so he can focus on me. Reallyfocus on me. “What happened?”
“Oh.” I wipe my chin. I shrug. I desperately try not to spiral into a Connor-inspired whirlwind all over again. “Nothing. It was fun. I had... fun.”
He arches a brow.
“You’re gonna have to give him more than that, Dana,” Mom says. “Last night was quite traumatizing for your father.”
We chuckle. He doesn’t.
“It was a frat party, Dad,” I say, giving him an innocent smile. “Dylan and I hung out. I met a lot of cool new people. See?” I reach into my jacket pocket, withdrawing my notecard plastered with Beta Kappa stickers.
His grin stretches from ear-to-ear. “Oh, my god,” he says, reaching out. I give him the card and he admires it. “I haven’t seen these stickers in a long time...” He chuckles, nostalgia taking over. “Man, Junior and I used to steal a roll of these every year and make all the girls who wanted one flash—” He stops himself, realizing his audience. “Actually, you know what? Greek life wasn’t the least bit interesting. Are you sure you wouldn’t be more at home in STEM?” he asks me. “You’ll get to hang out with you mom all day. Every day.”
“Dad...”
“Until you die an old, old woman.”
“May I have my card back, please?”
He reluctantly gives it back.
“How did your brothers do?” Mom asks.
“Oh, they would have claimed them the second they walked through the door,” Dad says. “Them and Connor.”
A rush of heat spills over my skin at the mention of his name.
Touch me, Connor.
“Speaking of, where are my other children?” Dad asks.
Momchuckles. “Oh, I heard them stumbling up the stairs around five this morning...”
Their voices drift between my ears, words lost in the void as my lips tingle once more. I lick them and bite them and press them together, anything to suppress the sudden rhythmic pounding the memory of last night brings. Connor kissing me. Touching me. His hand between my?—
“Daughter? Hello?”
I look up. “What?”
“Are you okay?” Dad asks, his frown suspicious. “You’re not hungover, are you?”
“No,” I blurt. “Just tired.”
Mom smiles, but it reveals nothing. I hope.
“I said, would you like something to eat?” Dad asks again. “I’ve got extra eggs and toast.”
