Anonymous

Jess ate really delicately, taking her time to cut her chicken parmesan and put each piece in her mouth without getting even a speck of sauce on her face. She was such a stark contrast to Maria, who was shoving food in her face like the world was about to end.

“So Louis,” Jess’ mum started with her thick Italian accent, “you’re in school with Jess?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

“Do you work at all?”

Um, yes. But I knew I had to stretch the truth with that one. “Yeah, I work as a shelf stocker at a grocery store. It’s not much, but it’s a job.”

“That’s wonderful,” she encouraged. “It teaches you good responsibility. Your parents must be proud.”

Yup. “They haven’t said so,” I replied, trying to hold back my smile. “They kind of forced me to get a job in the first place.”

“We should do that with Jess,” her dad laughed. “She just sits on her laptop and writes all day.”

My eyebrows shot to my hairline as I looked at her. Was she still writing her fan-fiction, yet not publishing any of it? Was she picturing what it would be like to…?

“Louis?” her dad’s voice broke through my mind.

I felt my face flood with coloring as I turned to him. “I’m sorry?”

“Do you do any writing?”

“No, not really. I’ve never been much of an English guy. I more like maths and science, actually.”

“Ah, I was the same in school,” her dad agreed with enthusiasm. “Jess gets all of the grammar rule knowledge and other nonsense from her mother. Which is ironic, since English isn’t her first language.”

“That helps, though,” Maria spoke up in a snobby voice. “I know tons of people that didn’t know about different English tenses or anything until they started learning French or Spanish. Like, who the crap knows what the imperfect tense is in English?”

“That’s a good point,” I voiced, trying not to let myself sound surprised. I kind of just figured that Maria wasn’t too bright, that she just sat around and played videogames without any kind of critical thinking going on in her head.

“Of course it’s a good point. Because it’s true.” And there was that little bratty girl I was starting to grow so fond of.

Throughout the rest of dinner, her parents made more small talk with me, trying to get to know me better. And the more they talked, the more I wondered what in the world I’d been nervous about. Her family was really sweet and inviting, and they did nothing to make me feel like I wasn’t welcome in their house or that I wasn’t allowed to date Jess. Overall, the experience was quite lovely, even though Jess’ mother kept demanding that I find more space for food inside of my stomach, even though I was on the verge of exploding.

Once dinner was all set, Jess stood up and announced that the two of us were going down in the basement to watch a movie.

“That’s fine,” her mother agreed. “I’ll call you up later for dessert.”

The thought of having to shove even more food down my throat made my stomach churn, but I took a deep breath as Jess locked her hand around mine and brought me toward the doorway, letting me down the stairs first so she could shut the door behind us.

After putting Ferris Bueller into the DVD player, she came over and curled up next to me. I kissed the top of her head and smiled when she snuggled closer to my body.

“I told you they weren’t so bad,” she mumbled, closing her eyes when I started to run my fingers through her hair. “You were stressing over nothing.”

“I know. But I was just scared that they weren’t going to accept me. What if they had picked up that something was kind of funky, and they did research to see if I actually went to school with you?”

“I don’t even think my parents would know how to go about that,” she chuckled, leaning up to face me. “So don’t worry about it.”

“Okay.” I leaned down and pressed my lips to hers, fully prepared to go back to watching the movie. After all, it was one of my all-time favorites, and I hadn’t seen it in a while.

But Jess kept going, her hand moving up to cup my face. My heart started to race as I pulled away and whispered, “What about your parents?”

“They’re not going to disturb us,” she promised, leaning in again.

As our mouths mingled with each other, she climbed in my lap, straddling my thighs, and I wrapped my arms around the small of her back, pressing her closer to me.

She let out a little noise, something that sounded strained, like she was trying to keep it suppressed, and I felt myself start to smile against her lips. My hands slid up her arms before resting on her face, keeping her head in place as I moved my tongue against hers.

I could feel myself starting to lose control, so I drew my head back, swallowing and blinking. “Good lord, we can’t do this here. Not with your parents and sister right upstairs.”

Bueller? Bueller? Bueller?

“Why not?” she whispered, biting the edge of her lip and looking incredibly sexy.

The look in her eyes and the feeling of her on top of me made the next words painful to say. “Because I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop. And your parents have just decided they liked me. I don’t exactly want to ruin that by having sex with their daughter in their basement while they’re making dessert.”

She smirked, but she climbed off my lap to please me. Instantly, I felt my body start to slow down and relax, but I kept getting flashes of what her mouth felt like against mine. “It sucks that you’re such a good guy,” she joked. “But I guess it could turn out to be a positive thing.”

I turned to smile at her, drawing her in close to my side again. “Well, if it means your parents like me, then yeah, I think it’d be a positive thing.” My mind flashed back to dinner, to when her father asked me whether I wrote or not.

“Hey,” I leaned down close to her ear and whispered, “do you still write stories about me?”

She flushed and flicked her eyes up toward my face. “What?”

“Your father says you still write all the time. Do you write about me? Do you write about what I’d be like?”

Goosebumps erupted all over her neck, the blush following a similar route up into her face. And then, she leaned over and put her lips just in front of mine, and breathed, “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

I almost went back on my word and went to resume our previous position, my hand starting to move up to bring her face that one centimeter further, when the door opened at the top of the stairs.

The two of us sprang apart, the adrenaline of almost getting caught in a compromising position coursing through my veins.

“HEY. Turn off your movie and come up for cake and pie and ice cream,” Maria screamed before slamming the door shut again.

“That was close,” she laughed, her face still flushed.

“I just can’t believe I have to eat more food,” I groaned, throwing my head back against the couch. “I swear to God, I’m going to die.”

“You’ll live. I promise.” She got to her feet and extended her hand to help me up, which I graciously took.

And then we climbed the stairs toward the looming death by food.