Page 65 of Every Hidden Truth

Ben: Should I be expecting a shotgun-armed conversation with you dad about my intentions for you?

Silas: Last time I checked, you didn’t knock me up, so I’m sure he’ll keep the shotgun locked away in the closet.

Ben: Thank God for small mercies.

Dad watched me curiously as I snickered at my phone, but whenever I glanced his way in question, he focused on the TV and pretended he hadn’t been looking. Weirdo.

As the credits rolled, Ben texted, letting me know he was on his way. I had a half-empty bag of Cheetos resting on my stomach, the cheesy powder staining my fingertips, and I hadn’t even showered yet.

“I’m gonna go change.” I tossed the bag of snacks onto the couch and rose to my feet.

Dad’s jaw dropped, his eyebrows rising in astonishment at my declaration like I’d divulged the fact Ben had, against all scientific odds, impregnated me.

“What?” I demanded.

“You’re going to shower and put on actual clothes on your birthday?” His eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Who are you, and what have you done with my son Silas?”

“Har, har, you’re so funny. Are you actually complaining about me being hygienic?”

His hands rose in surrender as amusement flickered over his face. “Of course not. I’m sure it has nothing to do with a certain boy coming over soon, right?”

“Oh my God, Dad.” I sent him a petulant glare full of as much teenage angst as I could muster. “Can you please not embarrass me today? Make it an early Christmas present for me and just not.”

He shrugged, then tapped his watch “Better get a move on. Tick, tock.”

I huffedangstily,before taking the stairs two at a time to my bedroom.

Once showered, I tugged a clean shirt over my head then wiggled myself into my favorite pair of skinny jeans. I styled my hair with wax and, deeming myself dapper enough, left my bedroom barefoot a few minutes later.

The moment I appeared in the living room, Dad crinkled the top of his newspaper, studying me through the lenses of his reading glasses. The entertainment returned to his eyes.

“Yes, I dressed up for my boyfriend. Sue me!” I plopped onto the couch with a dignified harrumph.

Dad chuckled and returned his attention back to his paper. “I didn’t say a thing.”

I stuck my tongue out childishly.

His chuckle rose in volume. “It’s just nice to see you like this, Silas, that’s all.”

“Like what?” I folded my legs in front of me, crisscross applesauce, and feigned interest in my phone.

Dad mulled over his words for a moment before giving me a teasing smile. “Twitterpated.”

“That’s so embarrassing.”

The doorbell rang, and I sprang to my feet like I’d been electrocuted. I smoothed my clothes and instinctively flitted a hand over my hair before remembering my dad sat in his La-Z-Boy right beside me. Hiding behind his newspaper, he didn’t say a word, but the paper shook and crackled from his silent laughter.

“Please, don’t be weird,” I begged one last time as I walked to the door.

His lack of answer was concerning.

When I opened the door, cold winter air rushed over me along with a gust of stray snowflakes. Ben grinned, looking adorable in his winter coat, fuzzy hat, and gloves. His cheeks were a beautiful rosy pink from the chill, and his blue eyes sparkled as he ran his gaze over my body. With a cheek-splitting smile, I stepped to the side and ushered him in out of the cold.

Setting a large gift bag on the floor, Ben removed his gloves and stuffed them into the pockets of his winter coat, stamping the snow from his boots.

I took his coat and hung it on the rack as he removed his shoes and hat. His fingers shook out the blond locks, the curls shorter than they’d been last night, and I whimpered in horror.

“What did you do?” I cried, petting his freshly cut hair. “What did Ben do to you, my darlings?”

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