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“No, we aren’t like that. Just friends with benefits.”
Both of them look at me like they have never heard the term; I can’t believe I am having this discussion with my bosses. Like, how inappropriate.
“What is a friend with benefits?” Cyrus asks, perplexed.
My face flushes with embarrassment. Do I really have to explain this now? Do I also have to tell them about the birds and the bees?
“We are friends who sleep with each other, no strings attached,” I tell them, and they look at each other.
“How many?”
“Excuse me?”
“How many friends with benefits do you have?” Cyrus asks through gritted teeth.
“Geez, just Sam,” I tell him, not understanding why he is getting so worked up about it.
He lets out a breath before sitting back and relaxing slightly.
“So, you fuck, and that’s it?” Eli asks, and I raise an eyebrow at him.
“Yes, we have sex, okay?”
“No, it’s not okay. I don’t want you sleeping with this Sam or anyone else. You are our mate. Mates don’t sleep with other people, only their mates,” Eli says, using that strange term again.
Now I’m the one confused. Are we speaking of the same sort of mates as in friend? Because from the way he’s said it, it sounds like something different.
“You have lost me,” I tell them, shaking my head.
“You are ours, destined to be with us. We want you, and that’s it,” Eli answers just as the front door opens and in runs Maya, completely distracting me from what he’s just said. She bounds into the kitchen, jumping up and down excitedly, showing me her painting.
“Look, Ada, I painted you a picture. See? Mommy, grandma, me, and you,” she says, pointing to each blob of paint.
“Awe, that’s amazing. Looks exactly like us,” I tell her.
She then notices Cyrus and Eli, a grin lighting up her face, which I find a bit unusual.
“Want to see?” she asks, running, overexcited about her painting.
Eli bends down, picking her up and placing her on his hip before looking at her painting. “Very good, Maya,” he tells her, and she grins a big toothy grin.
“Look, Mr. Cyrus,” she tells him, and he stands up to look over her shoulder, ruffling her hair.
“Very good, a little abstract,” he says, cocking his head to the side as he looks at the blob of paint on the paper, and I see Eli nudge him.
My mother walks in with Maya’s backpack. “Oh, you’re still here,” she says, a little surprised.
“Yes… Mrs. Paisley.” Cyrus stops, and I realize I have never introduced them to each other.
“Her name is Debbie,” I tell him, and he nods.
“Are you staying for dinner?” she asks, and I shrug, no longer caring at this point, before looking at them.
“Yes, mom, they can stay,” I answer for them, shaking my head.
I’ve been trying to get rid of them all night, but whatever.
I help my mother prepare dinner while Eli and Cyrus are playing at the table with Maya, and I am a little surprised to see how good they are with her, not like their usual intimidating selves I am so used to. They almost look relaxed; Eli definitely does while he draws on some paper alongside her, Cyrus commenting on her artwork but more or less just reading a magazine my mother has left out as he flicks through the pages.
