Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
“Did he kiss you goodnight?” Glory asks. I think I hear her slurp up some saliva. The girl is rabid for Crispin.
“He did not.” I pull my covers up to my chin, feeling very insecure about admitting that Crispin didn’t give me a goodnight kiss.
“What?”
“He kissed the back of my hand as he thanked me for dinner. I swear, the way he said it made it sound like a seven-course meal. It was just tacos. Not even authentic. I nearly melted into a puddle.”
“Did he ask you to go out again? Or indicate he’d like to?”
I squeal. Because this is the scariest part. “He asked me to go to his family dinner with him tomorrow.”
“Whaaa…?” I hear a crash in the background. Glory shouts, “You little runt! If that broke, you’re so grounded.”
“You can’t ground me.” I hear her little brother yell back. “Only Mom and Dad can ground me.”
She growls her frustration, and I hear her wrestling with something.
“What did he knock over?”
“The coat tree. It fell onto the table in the entry hall. I worried he broke that eagle statue. It’s Dad’s pride and joy. But it’s fine. The lucky little cuss.”
I chuckle. Every time I think I wish I had siblings, Glory cures me of it.
“So, wait,” Glory says. “After just one date, you’re going home to meet the parents?”
“I don’t think it’s like that.”
“I don’t know. It sounds like this boy is deep-fried and crispy over you.”
“Well, he is finger-licking good, for sure, but I really don’t think this is a meet-the-parents situation in that regard. I actually think he’s just excited for me to meet his sister.”
“Oh, well, that’s kind of nice. She must not be an extra sibling like mine.”
“No, they actually get along. They’re close.”
“Wow, imagine that.”
I can totally imagine Glory glaring at the extra as she speaks.
“So, what do I wear? To the family thing?”
“What kind of thing is it? Bowling? Brunch at the Ritz? Sky diving?”
“Ew, I wouldn’t want to do any of those.” I snuggle into my pillow and imagine skydiving with Crispin’s mom and dad. Weird.
Glory’s tone is dreamy. “The Ritz would be cool. Mimosas on the patio.”
“Orange juice on the patio, since I’m only seventeen.”
She sighs. “You’re such a killjoy sometimes.
Let me imagine this spectacular event, please.
You are dripping in diamonds, wearing your Sunday-best tiara.
Your gown is Gucci, but it’s one of those thousand-dollar dresses that looks like it came from the secondhand store.
Sooo designer it doesn’t have to be attractive.
His mother wears pearls and a sweater set, his father is in a three-piece suit with diamond cufflinks—”
“I don’t think his parents are rich.”
Glory growls. “Why are you taking this so seriously? Live a little.”
“Fine, continue.”
“His sister – what’s her name?”
“I don’t know. Oh! Claire. Claire.”
“Okay, Claire is dressed in goth grunge, torn clothes, a studded collar, and hair dyed shoe polish black. But she has the same bottle green eyes as Crispin, so it’s actually pretty spectacular. She loves her brother, sure, but has always despised the extra attention he got.”
“Crispin’s eyes are brown.” But I nod in understanding. “She’s punishing her parents.”
“Exactly! When you breeze onto the patio, overlooking the Pacific with your flowy, ugly sundress, she wants to hate you, but she sees the way Crispin looks at you and loves you all the same.”
“Aw. That’s very special.” I look up at my ceiling, imagining the ridiculous scene Glory is painting. “Tell me. Do I get along with his parents?”
“Of course you do. His dad, especially, when you give him that hot new tech investment tip.”
I bust out laughing. “Oh my gosh, Glory. This could totally happen.”
“Obviously! Ugh. Listen, I’ve got to go. I’ll text you ideas on what you should wear. What are you actually doing?”
“It’s just a barbecue. Complete with lawn games.”
“Easy peasy. Love you, Ari.”
“Love you, Glo.”
It’s like Crispin felt us talking about him. My phone buzzes with an incoming text.
Crispin: I had fun last night. Thanks again.
Me: It was great. Except the movie. That was 100% gouda.
Crispin: ?
Me: Cheesy
Crispin: [Laughing/crying emoji] Here’s the address for my parents. Is 2:00 okay?
Me: As long as you don’t keep me out late, it should be fine.
Crispin: Can’t wait to beat you at lawn darts.
Me: IF you do win, I blame your freakishly long reach.
Crispin: Already making excuses, huh?
Me: Well, yes. I was absent the day they handed out coordination and athleticism. Why do they do those on the same day, anyway?
Crispin: [ROFL emoji] At least they gave you an extra dose of acting skills so you don’t have to rely on your high jump to put food on the table.
Me: That would be tragic!
Crispin: Says the 5-foot-nothing girl.
Me: 1. 5 foot 1, thank you very much.
Crispin: You are more than a foot shorter than me.
Me: Uh…you never noticed? I’ve stood next to you more than once now.
Crispin: I guess I didn’t quantify it.
Me: No one will accuse you of being height-ist.
Crispin: Is that a thing?
Me: Probably.
Crispin: Looking forward to tomorrow. You’re sure you don’t want me to pick you up?
Me: I’m fine. Thanks for the addy. I’ll see you at 2:00.
He hearts my final message, and I take a deep breath. Texting with Crispin Moore. I didn’t have that on my bingo card for this year. And yet I’ll be playing lawn darts with him tomorrow.
A little thrill courses through me, and I bite my lip. Looking up at the ceiling again, I whisper. “He’s a really nice guy, Dad. And so thoughtful. I think I’m really starting to like him. I hope you approve.”
The ceiling doesn’t answer, but outside, a cloud shifts and a beam of sunshine lights up my view. I smile. “I’ll take that as a yes.”