Page 32 of Not Your Basic Love Story

He glanced towards me, trying to keep his eyes on the road. “What would that be?”

I grinned devilishly and tugged on my seatbelt to give me some room to maneuver. Leaning over the gearshift, I pawed at the buttons on his pants, relieved they weren’t the smart-girl ones with the three buttons. I was too drunk for that.

“What are you—” He tried to interject, but I was quick.

Before he could protest, my mouth was on him.

He gasped in both surprise and pleasure as my tongue and lips worked their magic.

It had been a week since we’d seen each other last, so he finished unwrapping his birthday gift quickly— which was good because having my head down in a moving vehicle was making me dizzy.

I grinned and sat back in my seat, wiping my mouth. “Sonow,how was your birthday?”

Dev chuckled, doing his pants back up with one hand, and flashed a grin in my direction. “Perfect.”

CHAPTER NINE

I must have passed some test because after Dev’s birthday it didn’t take much convincing to get him to meet my family.

He’d never been to the island before, so we took advantage of the next long weekend to check it out. We stood outside on the front deck of the ferry in our heavy coats even though it was spring, holding cups of hot tea and hoping for a whale sighting.

“Wait, you don’t get motion sickness from boats, too, do you?” I asked, stepping away, only half-joking.

He laughed and shook his head. “I promise it was the tequila that did me in.”

I stepped back beside him and rested my head against his shoulder. “Are you nervous?”

“A little,” he admitted.

“You've never done the whole ‘meet the parents’ thing before, eh?” I asked, recalling his very limited dating history.

He shook his head. “My plan is to do the exact opposite of what Ben Stiller did in that movie.”

I grinned. “Good plan.”

“Is there anything I should know about your family?” He looked down at me, his brow-furrow betraying some mild discomfort.

“My brother can be an asshole, but he won’t be there. Just my mom and dad.”

“Your mom Karen, your dad Steve.”

“Right, good memory,” I commended, trying to remember the names of his parents and failing. I’d have to find a way for him to mention them before we went to his house, which he still hadn’t offered to do. Hopefully, this weekend would change things.

“Have you told your parents much about me?” he asked, staring out across the water, the wind whipping at his jacket.

“Of course! I didn’t tell them you threw up on the plane, but I did tell them everything else. They know you’re a vegetarian, and you don’t drink, so I’m not sure what my mom’s going to try to cook for dinner. They’re a ‘meat and potatoes’ kind of people.”

“I’m sure it will be great.” He smiled, though I could still sense his uncertainty. We watched the waves for a long moment, the noise of the motor and wind filling in the gap of our conversation.

“What about you?” I asked, sipping my peppermint tea. “Do your parents know about me?” When he didn’t answer right away, a knot of anxiety formed in my stomach. “You’ve told your parents about me, right?”

He answered hastily. “Of course! Of course. Rebecca, I’m at your place almost every night and sleeping over most of them. They’d be terrible parents if they didn’t care where their son always was. They’re excited to meet you.”

A smile came to my face. This was the first he’d brought up meeting his family. Perhaps my plan of taking the lead was working, after all. The ferry landed at the terminal and we went below deck to prepare to disembark. The atmosphere in the car was a little tense, though if it was from Dev or me, I couldn’t be sure.

Spring had come early to Victoria, and everything was lush and green with dazzling displays of flowers. We drove through the city center past heritage stone buildings, down narrow streets, and then finally to View Royal, where my parents lived. They had retired and moved into my Grandma’s house after she passed away, which was eight years ago now. I still missed my Nana, with her ginger-snap cookies and strawberry-rhubarb pie. I had spent most summers here with her when I was young, where the freedom of the island was incomparable to the stifling Vancouver city where I spent the rest of my time. I had many summer friends I still kept in contact with through social media. As we drove down the familiar streets, ghosts of my childhood played around every corner, sitting with the neighbourhood kids on electrical boxes and gossiping, walking to the store for a Slurpee, and playing grounders on the playground ‘til it was past dark.

The twenty-minute drive was too quick and passed in silence save for my directions. The narrow road wound past various private residences and ended with us pulling into a driveway of an open-beam log house with cedar shingles. He parked. Neither of us got out of the car, both staring at it through the windshield.

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