Page 132 of Revolve
He hums, staring up at the ceiling. “Just thinking.”
“About?”
“Thanksgiving,” he says.
I tilt my head. “Favorite holiday?”
“Least.”
I nod. “I’m more of a Halloween girl myself.”
Dylan finally looks at me, liquor-colored eyes warm as he studies me.
He doesn’t smile, and I sit up straight. “Is Thanksgiving a big deal in your family?”
“No, it’s the first time since I moved out that my mom’s gone this long without calling or texting me. She loves Thanksgiving, and she didn’t send me an invite.”
I play with the chain around his neck. “Why don’t you give her another call?”
“Yeah, maybe I will,” he says.
From the looks of it, he won’t be doing that, but I don’t comment on his noncommittal response. “You could call your sister. I’m sure she’s going home for fall break.”
He doesn’t answer.
“Or …” I pause, planting a kiss on his chin. “You could come home with me.”
That gets his attention. “You want me to meet the parents already?”
I roll my eyes. “You already met my mom when you invited yourself to my house,” I say. “But this time, I’m inviting you.”
“That’s very nice of you. Charitable, even.”
“Anything for a good cause, and my parents were asking me if you were going to come,” I say, watching his smile bloom. “So, will you?”
“Yeah, baby, I’ll come.”
When he calls me that, it feels like everything is right in the world.
FORTY-SEVEN
DYLAN
THANKSGIVING IS MUCHmore enjoyable when you don’t spend it with your family.
There used to be a service at our local church that my dad was adamant we all attend. That meant he expected us to be dressed in our formal clothes by seven a.m. sharp on a Thursday. It was exhausting back then, but I’ll never forget how our whole family spent the entire day together. There wasn’t one moment from morning to night that we were apart. Looking back, I realize that it was one of the only times we were together and happy.
Today, I’m not with my parents, but I feel happier than I ever am with them.
Instead of a Thanksgiving turkey, Sierra’s dad made roast duck. He called it a Russian tradition, but I think he just went to the supermarket too late. Sierra told me they never do a traditional Thanksgiving, but since they found out I was coming, they wanted to impress me.
I didn’t think they even liked me that much, let alone would want to make a good impression.
“You know, you’re the first boyfriend Sierra’s invited over,” hermom says after we gather in the living room to watch highlights from the ISU Grand Prix. The one we’ll be competing in pretty soon.
Sierra groans. “Mom, please don’t.”
“And the first boy who can make her blush,” her dad adds.
