Page 145 of Call the Shots
“My—uh—parents want to meet you.”
“Oh.”
It was time to meet my roommate’s parents. The girl I had serious feelings for.
“Please don’t say weird shit,” I muttered to myself, following June inside.
Mr. and Mrs. Basilhugged me while I stood, stiff, until June ushered us to a private courtyard with a glass table set for lunch. There were more forks than I thought there were supposed to be.
“We’re obviously grateful for your involvement,” Mrs. Basil told me. “We appreciate discretion and an NDA?—”
“Mama,” June interjected.
“I can sign another one,” I said. “I won’t tell anyone about the—uh—hospital stuff.”
A guy on a Bluetooth call served us some kind of grilled chicken dish while June’s dad placed a napkin on his lap. “When are you moving back in, Junie?”
I glanced between them while June shifted uncomfortably. “Um, I can’t live on campus but maybe an apartment…?”
“Do you really think you should be living alone?” her mom said.
“No…I guess not.”
My stomach sank. Our routine had become so comfortable, I couldn’t imagine not living with her.
It took me a second to realize why they’d gotten so quiet. June’s parents watched with laser focus as June picked up her fork. I guess I could understand. It must’ve been pretty bad in June’s high school years for them to act like this, but it made me uneasy, watching June’s eyes flicker between them.
“Hey—” I blurted out and they turned to look at me. “I have—uh—fake teeth.”
“What?” Mrs. Basil asked.
Mr. Basil shot a look at his wife. “Excuse me?”
“From a puck in high school,” I explained. “Two front teeth. If you have a glass I could pop them into, that’d be awesome.”
They stared, dumbfounded, until June burst into laughter. She put a hand over her mouth to stop the giggles. “I’m sorry—I’m sorry, Bear.”
“All good.” I grinned.
She took a bite of chicken, still laughing. “Do you really have fake teeth?”
“Uh-huh.” I held up a hand when her dad tried to stand up. “I don’t need the cup, I was kidding. I do have fake teeth though. If I’m under neon lights, they’re the only ones that don’t glow.”
June kept giggling, scooping up sweet potatoes on her fork. “You can’t take them out?”
“No but maybe next time I’ll get the ones that can. It’d be a cool party trick.”
At the door,they talked about the clinic in Houston that June wanted to go to—therapy twice a week. They hugged a bunch and her parents said they’d get her room ready for her welcome back.
I caught June’s eye when we made our way to the car.
“Good,” she answered without the question. “Easier than I thought. But that’s like step two of a million steps? So…you know…good.”
I slipped into the passenger seat. “Do you want ice cream?”
“You already did your babysitting duties,” she said lightly.
I reclined the seat. “I could really go for ice cream.”
