Page 103 of Play Along With Me
"Toothbrushes are in the cabinet above the sink," I tell Audrey, desperate to get her out of this increasingly absurd situation. "And there's, uh, clothes you can borrow in the second drawer of my dresser."
Audrey nods, backing slowly toward the bedroom. "Great. Excellent. I'll just... go find those. Nice to see you both. Again. Unexpectedly. In the morning. After I stayed over. For tooth-brushing."
She disappears into the bedroom, closing the door behind her with perhaps slightly more force than necessary.
The moment she's gone, my mother turns to me with an expression of pure delight. "Oh, Jake! I'm so happy for you two!She is something. And don't worry, we didn't mean to embarrass you—though at your age, having a girlfriend stay over shouldn't be embarrassing. It's perfectly natural and healthy for young couples to express their affection physically—"
"Mom, please stop," I interrupt, feeling heat creep up my neck. "Can we not discuss my... private life? Especially not while Audrey is in the next room probably contemplating her escape through the window?"
"Fine, fine," she concedes, still looking unreasonably pleased with herself. "But I'm just so thrilled she is here!"
"We should maybe give them some space, Patricia," my father suggests, finally taking pity on me. "We could come back later, after they've had time to... brush their teeth."
The way he says "brush their teeth" makes it clear he's not fooled in the slightest by Audrey's hasty excuse.
"Nonsense," my mother dismisses. "They're young and in love! Nothing to be embarrassed about. Besides, Audrey and I were going to have coffee this morning anyway. This is just... more efficient!"
In love? We've known each other less than a week, been on one half real date, and just established that we might want to be in a relationship eventually. My mother's capacity for romantic acceleration continues to astound me.
"Mom, could you please just... tone it down when Audrey comes back?" I plead quietly. "This is all very new, and we're still figuring things out."
My mother has the grace to look slightly abashed. "Of course, honey. I'll be the picture of restraint. Not a word about anything, I promise."
"Thank you," I sigh, then glance at my father. "And Dad, no winking or thumbs up or any other nonverbal communication suggesting approval of my sex life."
"Wouldn't dream of it, son," he says, though the twinkle in his eye suggests otherwise.
I busy myself pouring coffee and setting out mugs, grateful for the mundane task to occupy my hands while I wait for Audrey to reemerge. After what feels like an eternity but is probably only five minutes, the bedroom door opens and she appears, now dressed in her dress from last night and one of my zip-up hoodies, her hair combed and face freshly washed.
"Sorry about that," she says with remarkable composure. "Not exactly how I planned to start my morning, but I'm nothing if not adaptable."
"We're the ones who should apologize," my father says. "Barging in without proper warning."
"Though it worked out perfectly!" my mother adds, gesturing to the bakery box. "Now we can all have breakfast together before Robert and I head to the airport. Much better than meeting at that café, don't you think, Audrey?"
"Definitely," Audrey agrees, accepting the mug of coffee I hand her with a grateful smile. "Nothing builds relationships quite like surprise morning encounters in borrowed clothing."
I nearly choke on my coffee, but my mother just beams, either missing or deliberately ignoring the hint of sarcasm in Audrey's tone.
"Exactly! And now we can be in Jake's apartment too. Though I'm still not sure why you don't have proper curtains in the living room, honey. Those vertical blinds are so institutional."
"The curtains you brought are in the bedroom, Mom," I remind her, grateful for the shift in topic. "And I've only been here a week."
"Well, I suppose Audrey can help you decorate now that you two are so... close," my mother suggests with all the subtlety of a freight train. "A woman's touch makes all the difference in making a house feel like a home."
Audrey catches my eye over her coffee mug, her expression a perfect blend of amusement and sympathy. "I'm not much of a decorator," she admits. "My own apartment is mostly furnished with books and cat hair. Mr. Darcy is the interior designer in our household."
"The cat has excellent taste," my mother nods seriously. "I saw the photo of him on that lovely vintage chair on your Instagram."
Of course my mother remembers details from Audrey's Instagram. Her commitment to stalking is nothing if not thorough.
The next forty-five minutes pass in a surreal breakfast gathering—my parents, Audrey, and me eating French pastries and drinking coffee as if this is a perfectly normal family gathering rather than the aftermath of my parents walking in on their adult son post-sleepover with his new girlfriend. Ex-fake girlfriend. Current real girlfriend? The terminology is still evolving.
What amazes me most is Audrey's ability to roll with the situation, her initial embarrassment quickly giving way to her natural charm and humor. She answers my mother's thinly veiled probing questions with grace, deflects the more invasive ones with jokes, and somehow manages to make the whole scenario feel almost normal.
"So you'll be at Jake's game next week?" my mother asks as she gathers the empty coffee mugs. "Tuesday against Willington?"
Audrey glances at me, a question in her eyes. We haven't discussed future plans beyond vague mentions of seeing where this goes.
