Page 158 of The Revenge Game

Well, it’s perfect until the moment the front door slams, followed by my mother’s cheerful voice echoing up the stairs like a particularly enthusiastic alarm system. “Andrew? Are you home? We brought bagels!”

Justin bolts upright so fast he nearly launches me off the bed. I can’t help laughing, although my laughter might have a tinge of hysteria to it.

The irony isn’t lost on me. After spending my entire teenage years wishing for a social life, the first time I finally have a boy in my room, I’m about to be caught by my parents.

Justin and I launch into a frenzied clothing scavenger hunt with all the grace of two cats trying to tap dance. Justin hops on one foot while wrestling with his pants leg, nearly concussing himself on my old science fair trophy. I’m pretty sure my underwear is on backward, and there’s a strong possibility I’m wearing one of his socks.

“Maybe I could climb out the window?” Justin suggests, peering out the second-story window.

“Unless you’ve developed the ability to fly, I wouldn’t recommend it.”

Justin runs his hand through his hair, somehow managing to make it look even more attractively disheveled.

“Okay, right. So I’m about to meet your parents. While wearing yesterday’s clothes and looking like I’ve been thoroughly debauched in their child’s bedroom.”

“To be fair, you have been thoroughly debauched in their child’s bedroom.”

“Not exactly helping,” he says.

“Look, they’re going to love you. Though maybe fix your shirt buttons first.”

Justin looks down, and lets out a strangled noise before he redoes his shirt to make the buttons even.

Then we make our way downstairs, where the rich scents of cinnamon bagels and coffee waft from the kitchen.

“Maybe we should have rehearsed a cover story,” Justin whispers.

“Because fictional stories have worked out so well for us in the past?” The words slip out before I can stop them, but Justin snorts a laugh, some of the tension leaving his shoulders.

We round the corner into the kitchen, where my mom is arranging bagels onto a plate. My father spots us first, his coffee cup freezing halfway to his mouth.

“Oh!” Mom’s eyes widen as they land on Justin. “We didn’t realize you had…company.”

“Uh…yeah.” I clear my throat. “This is Justin. Justin, these are my parents, Annette and Robert.”

“It’s lovely to meet y’all,” Justin says, his sales-guy charm clicking into place as he offers his hand. “I’m sorry about the unexpected intrusion.”

Mom’s forehead creases as she shakes Justin’s hand. “Wait a minute… Weren’t you the class president in Andrew’s year? Football captain too, right?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Justin says, and I have to bite back a hysterical laugh at how his Texas manners surface under pressure.

Dad’s eyebrows raise as he gives Justin’s hand a thorough shake. “So, you went to high school with Andrew?”

“Yes, I did,” Justin says.

“And you just reconnected at the reunion?” Mom asks, turning her attention back to the bagels.

I give a choked cough. My parents think I managed to charm the former class president and football captain into coming home with me last night? It’s nice they have such a high opinion of my pulling power.

“Ah, we actually met back up in London about eight months ago,” Justin says.

“What a coincidence,” Mom says, beaming as she pushes a plate of bagels toward us.

I meet Justin’s eyes and he gives me a half-smile that contains an apology, forgiveness, amusement, affection, and something deeper that makes my chest tight.

“Yeah, it’s an amazing coincidence,” I agree.

After what turns into a nice, leisurely brunch with my parents, Justin and I sit on the swing on the front porch.