“Well, that’s ominous,” he says, though he’s smiling.
I sigh. “My mother wants you to come to dinner on Saturday. With my whole family,” I tell him. “Apparently Marie mentioned that she ran into you at my place yesterday, and now my mom thinks she needs to meet you as well.”
“Oh.”
“To be clear, I never said that you were my…” Crap, I don’t even know what he is. I pinch my mouth shut so I don’t accidentally use the wordhe-friend.
“Your boyfriend?” he asks, filling in the blanks.
“Um. Yes. I never said that to her.”
“Okay.” He chews the inside of his lip anxiously. “This is my not-so-subtle way of asking if I am. Your boyfriend, I mean.”
“Oh. Um.” I don’t know how this became my decision. I don’t even fully understand what these words mean. “I guess if you want to be?”
“Doyouwant me to?”
“Doyou?”
“Ifyoudo?—”
I hate this game.The Hedging Game:Now a major motion picture.
“For fuck’s sake, you practically devoured my left boob, so okay,yes, I think you’re my boyfriend!” I say, exasperated, and I can see him fighting back laughter. Because, yeah, maybe that was a ridiculous way to phrase it. “So do you want to come to dinner or not?”
“Doyouwant me to?” he asks again, though I can tell he’s just baiting me now.
“Honestly, it might be the most harrowing night of both our lives,” I tell him. “But it also might be good to rip the band-aid off quickly.”
“Does that mean you’re going to tell your family?”
“That you’re my boyfriend?”
“No, the left boob thing.”
“Oh my god,shut up,” I say with a laugh.
“Okay,” he says, and for a second, I think he’s agreeing to shut up, and I immediately want to tell him not to, but then he adds, “I’ll come to dinner.”
“Really?”
“But I’m telling the left boob story?—”
“Don’t you dare!” I point at him menacingly. “Once my grandma starts talking about boobs, you can’t get her to stop.”
Mona
Oh, don’t worry, darling. I never miss.
The only reason you’re still alive now is because you’re more use to me alive than dead.
You
I’m not here to cause any trouble.