Page 95 of Personal Foul

I nod again. “Yes. And I know that he’s already studying hard for the LSAT.” His parents nod as well, this time their approval more obvious.

“And I trust that your relationship won’t be getting in the way of either of your studies?” Dylan’s mom asks with a pointed look in Dylan’s direction.

Dylan chuckles like she’s making a joke. “Mom, if I can handle a Division I football schedule and still maintain my GPA, I’m pretty sure I can handle having a girlfriend who also prioritizes studying and maintain my GPA.”

“Well, you know we just want what’s best for you.”

Victoria mutters something under her breath, but I can’t catch it since Dylan is sitting between the two of us. Dylan seems to have heard her though, because he rubs his fingers over his mouth, something he does when he’s trying to hide a smirk. When he pulls his hand away, the smile is mostly erased, barely lingering around the corners of his lips.

Apparently that’s enough about me, because the conversation turns to Dylan’s class load in the fall, and where he plans to apply for law school. Even though a long car ride doesn’t seem like it should be that tiring, that, combined with the stress of the last few weeks, is catching up to me. I mostly tune out their conversation, nodding and humming at appropriate intervals, nibbling on my cheese and crackers to keep my mouth full so I have an excuse not to say much. It doesn’t seem like they care too much about my input anyway.

Fortunately, Dylan was right that everyone is heading to bed early. Soon his parents stand, giving both of their children kisses on the head or cheek and quick squeezes of their shoulders as they say good night. They waved to me with murmured good nights that I return in kind.

Dylan and Victoria crane their heads around and watch their parents leave the room.

“Um …” I start but subside into silence when Dylan holds up a finger. Apparently they’re waiting for some predetermined signal that it’s safe to speak freely. Because after a moment, they both relax, slumping back in their chairs.

Victoria turns to me. “Good job asking for water instead of accepting alcohol. That was a pro move.”

Laughing softly, I shake my head. “Honestly I was just thirsty.”

“Well, it was still a good move.” She stands. “Now, if you do want something with a little more oomph, don’t be shy in front of me. Or if you’re hungry for more than cheese and crackers, we can get you something.”

Dylan stands, heading to the refrigerator and rummaging through the contents. “Seriously, Spitfire. I can whip you up whatever you want.”

“Awww.” Victoria has her hands clasped next to her cheek. “You guys are so cute.” When Dylan turns to place something on the counter, Victoria reaches over and pinches his cheek.

He swats her hand away. “Hey! Stop that!”

“My roommate always gushes about how cute we are too,” I say. “She doesn’t pinch his cheeks, though.”

Still glaring at his sister, Dylan says, “And that’s one of my favorite things about your roommate.”

Victoria laughs. A bottle of wine and another wine glass in hand, Victoria returns to the table. She fills the glass about halfway and slides it down the table to me. “Here. I feel like you need this after your first encounter with our parental units.” She picks up her own glass, pours more wine into it, and relaxes against the back of her chair. “You may have noticed that they’re a little intense. Don’t take it personally. Cameron had it so much worse the first time he met our parents.”

From his spot at the counter where he’s assembling a sandwich, Dylan starts laughing. “Oh my God, that poor guy.”

Victoria cranks around in her chair so she can look at her brother. “I know, right? They were absolutely awful to him.”

Nodding, Dylan resumes building his sandwich. “Honestly, I wasn’t sure if that guy would ever come back. He must have balls of steel to willingly subject himself to Mom and Dad for the rest of his life.”

“That, or he’s really in love with your sister,” I point out.

Victoria raises her glass to me. “I knew I liked you.”

“Well, hey that makes one of you,” I quip, and she laughs.

To Dylan she says, “I see what drew you to her.”

Now that their parents have gone, the atmosphere is much more relaxed. The conversation is mostly between Victoria and Dylan, discussing things I don’t really know about. But now my silence is more comfortable and less forced. Dylan pulls my chair closer to his, resting his hand on my leg under the table while we chat. I sip my wine while he eats his sandwich and drinks a beer that he pulled out of the fridge.

Once he’s done, he wipes his mouth with a napkin and crumples it up on his plate. “I think we’re going to head to bed. You have a big day tomorrow, Tori. You should probably get your beauty rest as well.”

She punches him in the shoulder, and he just laughs. “Hey, are you calling me ugly?”

He holds up his hands in surrender. “I wouldn’t dream of it. But you know that you’ll need to be well-rested to deal with all of the crap tomorrow.”

“You’re right. And I know it. It’s just so nice to see you, and I know we’re not going to get to spend much time together tomorrow. How early are you leaving on Sunday?”

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