Page 33 of Bro Amazing

"I told you, Mom, they were working." I don't want to look at Miles because I don't want to embarrass him, either. They'd been very clear about needing to work and now that I've seen the intensity of their streaming schedule, I don't know how they handle working so much. And that's coming from me, someone who really likes to work a lot.

"And no one could take a day off work?" asks Mom. "Your father did."

"Their work is a little bit different than Dad's," I say, although I'm not going to go into details about how different.Mostly because I still don't fully understand their job, and I'm sure neither of my parents will either.

"I'm just complimenting them on cleaning up this front hallway," my mom argues. "It was a mess, and now it looks better."

"No, you were complaining that my roommates work a lot."

"I agree that the front hall looks fantastic," says Miles, jumping in before Mom and I can get into a fight. "Clarissa has definitely been a big help around the house. She's quick to jump in and take care of things we may have let slide as we get distracted by our gaming."

I glance to my mom to see if she's actually listening because if she heard Miles say "distracted by our gaming" she's going to have a fit about what is proper behavior for someone our age.

"I wouldn't say fantastic," counters Mom. At least she is focusing on the wrong part of the conversation.

Miles's eyes dart to the box filled with all the junk that I'd declared doesn't belong in this room, still sitting in the corner waiting to be moved to a proper place.

"Well, at least you're making progress," says Mom, as Dad links her arm through his. This silences her, but she still gives me a look that makes my stomach sink.

It's the same disapproving-yet-resigned look she gives Dad whenever I mention my author career, and for some reason I don't want my parents to feel that way about my roommates. I still want to hide that there's more of a relationship between us than I've let on, but I don't want my parents to think badly of them.

"Maybe we should get going." If my parents keep looking, they'll definitely find more things to disapprove of and complain about, and then they'll spend lunch pressuring me to move back home. "We don't want to be late for our reservation."

"We didn't make one," says Dad. "We wanted to see where you recommend we go, since you know the city better than us."

"Oh, if you have time then, I can show you the rest of the house if you like," offers Miles. "Admittedly, we haven't gotten to cleaning the other rooms yet, but like you said, we're making progress."

"He meansClarissais making progress," Mom whispers to Dad, but we all hear her.

Dad pats her hand, resting in the crook of his elbow, and we trudge behind Miles deeper into the house. Miles stops right outside the computer den and throws open the doors for my parents to look inside.

Admittedly, this is the one room the gamers maintain fairly well, probably because they care so much about their computers and need the videos to look good for their streams.

"What all is it that you all do again?" asks Dad. "I'm not sure Clarissa ever told us."

"We're gamers," says Miles as if that's a perfectly ordinary job and my Dad won't have a hundred more questions.

"All of you?" asks Dad, not sure how to process such a career. "Doesn't sound much like a job, more like a fun hobby."

If Dad knew what I recently discovered about their finances, he wouldn't say that. And definitely not to Miles's face.

"Oh, we do okay," says Miles, glancing over at me. I keep my face neutral.

"I suppose you're young yet, but you'll want to start thinking about your future at some point and what you're going to do long-term." Dad lifts his hand in acknowledgment that he's giving unsolicited advice before adding, "But I'm sure your parents have already had that discussion with you."

This is so embarrassing. My boyfriends are all my age and based on my math, they're earning more in a month than my parents could dream of making in their lifetimes. But of course,I can't say anything because then I'll give myself away as having looked into them.

"Who was at the door?" asks Lionel, coming around the corner from the kitchen with a bag of chips in one hand and an energy drink in the other.

"Clarissa's parents," says Miles over his shoulder.

"Oh, hello Clarissa's parents," says Lionel, shooting me a smile that gives me the sinking feeling that I'm about to regret everything that has led me to this moment.

My other boyfriends trail in from the kitchen behind Lionel. They must have taken a break from their gaming for snacks or lunch.Great, now my parents can judge the way they eat as well as their career choices. At least Miles takes over the task of introducing everyone so I don't have to, allowing me to fully wallow in my embarrassment and anxiety that my roommates are going to let something slip about our unconventional relationship.

It doesn't help that they all look like cats who caught the canary.

"Now that you've met everyone, we should probably leave for lunch. I'm sure you're both hungry." I step between my parents and my boyfriends in hopes that I can herd my mom and dad back toward the front door.

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