Page 52 of The Check Down

Oh, God. Griffin Lacey has seen my lacy undergarments.

Breaths stuttering, I manage to say, “Wh-what are you doing out of bed?”

Instantly, he’s cool and composed. “Who were you talking to?”

“You should be resting.”

“I’m feeling better. Almost 100 percent, so I thought I’d head in for the second half of practice.”

“No, your coach wants you to stay home and rest.” I cringe. I don’t want to mother him, but it’s apparent that someone has to.

My mom’s dulcet voice startles us from our standoff. “Yoo-hoo. Is that your new roomie, Moonbeam?”

Griffin’s smile stretches wide as he steps closer and mouths the nickname over my laptop.

I roll my eyes and give in. There’s no stopping this train wreck now.

“Professor, are these your folks?” Without waiting for a response, he rounds the bar and bends low, coming face to face with my cheerful parents. “Mr. and Mrs. Nelson, it’s lovely to meet y’all.” His freshly showered scent invades my nostrils as his head appears next to mine in the corner of the screen.

“Oh. Well. Oh my.” My sixty-six-year-old mother fans herself dramatically.

My father looks on, oblivious.

With a roll of my eyes, I sigh. “Mom.”

“Moonbeam, Ilikethis one.” She says it as if Griffin can’t hear her every word. “His aura is strong and healthy. Virile.”

“Mom.”

“Yes. This one will keep you satisfied, love. In bed and out of it.” She gives my father a saucy wink.

He only nods and beams into the camera, not the least bit uncomfortable with the conversation.

Here lies Brynn Nelson. Cause of death? Mortification.

“Mother. It’s not—we’re not.” I huff out my frustration, then take a calming breath. “We’re friends, so there’s no need to assess our compatibility inthatdepartment.”

“But your last relationship was so unfulfilling, sexuallyandemotionally—”

“Mom.”

My sharp tone gets her attention. She straightens the shoulders of her striped caftan with her bejeweled fingers, and though her eyes still twinkle, she mimes zipping her lips.

“Let’s move on.” I affix a terrible facsimile of a smile to my face and cut my eyes over to the man who’s sporting the smuggest smirk.

“Did you hear that, professor? I’ve got a good aura.”

My heart lurches. “I heard.”

My mother’s bracelets jangle as she smacks my father’s arm. “Aren’t they so cute, Har?”

I pinch the bridge of my nose.

“Hell of a game you guys played yesterday.” My father pushes up his glasses and leans in close, blocking our view of Mom.

“Thanks, Mr. Nelson. Wasn’t my best game, but we pulled out the W.”

“There’s no need for that Mr. and Mrs. nonsense, love. Call us Celeste and Hardy.”

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