Page 87 of The Mistake

When she notices my expression, she laughs even harder. “Ha. Who’s jealous now?”

“Not me,” I lie.

“You totally are.” She inches closer and plants a loud kiss on my lips. “Don’t be. I have a boyfriend, remember?”

“Damn right you do.”

Fuck, now I know how she felt at the party the other night. The possessive clench in my chest is…new. I don’t like it, but I can’t stop it, either. I’ve been playing the field since I started at Briar, but there were a few hook-ups that lasted more than one night. Girls I saw on and off, not seriously, but often enough to developsomefeelings for them. None of those arrangements were exclusive, though. I was well aware that they were seeing other guys, too. And I didn’t care.

This time I do care. The idea of Grace with another guy is unacceptable. I won’t go as far as to say she’smine, but…well, she’s mine. Mine to hold and mine to kiss and mine to laugh with.

Yup, mine.

“What time is it?” she asks. “I’m too lazy to lift my head.”

I crane my neck to get a better look at the alarm clock. “Ten thirty-two.”

“Should we finish watching the movie?”

“Sure.” I lean over to grab the laptop, which chimes loudly the moment I pick it up. “Uh…someone’s Skyping you, I think.”

She peeks at the screen, then shoots up in a panic. “Oh no. Put your pants on!”

I wrinkle my forehead. “Why?”

“Because that’s my mother!”

If I’d still had an erection, it would be deflating like a balloon right now. I hurriedly yank my pants to my hips and zip them up as Grace sets the computer in her lap. Her fingers hover over the track pad, and then she looks over at me. “Move ten inches to the left if you don’t want her to see you.”

“Doyounot want her to see me?”

Grace rolls her eyes. “I’m cool if she does. Actually, sheknows all about you, so you should totally say hi. But I understand if you don’t want to do the whole meet-the-parents thing right now.”

I shrug. “I’m cool with it.”

“Okay then. Brace yourself. She’s about to deafen us both with?—”

A shriek of delight. The loudest frickin’ shriek on the planet.

Fortunately, her voice lowers to a manageable decibel when she speaks. “Sweetie! Yay! You answered!”

The video chat box fills the screen, revealing a very attractive blonde who seems way too young to be the mother of a nineteen-year-old. Seriously, Grace’s mother looks like she’s thirty. If that.

“Hey, Mom,” Grace says. “Do I even want to know why you’re awake at five-thirty in the morning?”

Her mother’s answering grin is downright devilish. “Who says I even went to bed?”

Grace told me that her mother is bubbly and impulsive and pretty much acts like a teenager, and I can see now that she hadn’t exaggerated.

My girlfriend groans. “Please tell me you stayed up painting and not…doing other things.”

“I take the Fifth.”

“Mom.”

“I’m forty-four years old, sweetie. Do you expect me to live like a monk?”

Forty-four? Wow. Totally doesn’t look it. Also, I can’t stop the snicker that pops out at her breezy response, which causes her brown eyes to narrow.

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