You’re Mine

Chapter 132

Chapter 132 Harper Easton: Are you sure about this? This is property © NôvelDrama.Org.

Me: Sure about you coming over tonight?

Umm, yes. It has to happen, Easton. You have to spend time with my family or this is going to be awkward forever.

Easton: But your mom ... she's going to look at me ... and remember.

I cringe as I stare at his last text. I'm sure he's right, but there's nothing I can do about it. Despite every warning that's humming through my body, I know it's time that the love of my life finally faces my parents. With a face that's not covered in me.

Oh God. I don't think I'll ever recover from the Christmas tree incident. But if things are going to progress with Easton—and I want them to more than anything—then my family has to move on. They have to accept him. They have to get to know him on a level that isn't just Ryan's best friend, but as the boy I'm dating.

The boy I'm positively in love with. And, now, they will, because after a long conversation with my parents, my punishment finally over, they've decided they're ready to welcome Easton.

So, they've invited him over for dinner, followed by a sleepover, which is something Ryan had asked for. I'm positive Easton will be sequestered to my brother's room with probably a padlock and chains wrapped around the door. Sadie will be in mine, and Mom said she's going to make us breakfast in the morning.

One of the perks of being off from school for winter break. Me: I'll encourage Dad to pour her some wine and after half a glass at dinner, she won't even remember. Easton: Or that's all she'll think about.

I hope he isn't right, but there’s a good chance he is. Fuck. Me: Does that mean you're not going to come?

Easton: You know I'll be there. At 5, right?

Me: Yup. Sadie and Ryan should be here at that time, too, giving my parents plenty of distractions so the attention won't just be on us. Easton: You mean, ME. Me: Stocooop. Let's focus on something amazing, like you staying for breakfast tomorrow morning. Easton: I'd rather be devouring you, but I have a feeling the days of hooking up at your house are long gone. Me: Don't be so sure, I may just be able to surprise you. See you soon. Don't be late. Easton: And piss your mom off even more?

I know better ... I find Sadie's number and press it, holding the phone to my ear. "Hey,"

I say when she answers. "What are you doing?"

She laughs and I can tell it's not at me, especially when she adds, "Ryaaaaaaan, stop, your sister is on the phone."

She pauses. "Sorry, your brother is being all kinds of cray. What's up?"

“I'm calling to make sure you guys are still coming for dinner."

I move over to my closet, trying to look for something to wear for tonight. "And that you're definitely staying the night?"

“And miss a sleepover with my girl, come on, Harp. Like I'd ever forget."

I sigh, shutting the door to my closet, nothing inside looking cute enough. “Sadie, I'm so fucking nervous."

I fall onto my bed, covering my face with my arm, the worry I didn't mention to Easton now really hitting me. "This is the first time my parents are meeting him as my boyfriend—I mean, they've met him plenty of times as Ryan's BFF. But boyfriend status changes everything."

"It's going to go perfectly, Ryan and I will be there to take the heat if things start to get fishy. And, don't worry, I'll say something super sassy if that happens, enough so that your mom won't even remember that she busted his ass—ya know, eating you out."

"SADIE."

I groan. "Oh God. I can't."

I stuff my face into my pillow. "Easton keeps bringing it up and I just want to forget it."

"Okay, no more stressing. The food is going to be great because your mom's a hell of a good cook.

Ryan and I are bringing dessert, and your parents are going to fall for Easton's charm and we're all going to live happily ever after."

I snort. "I love your confidence."

"Oh ... and if you feel the need to take a few hits from one of the joints in Ryan's nightstand, that might not be a bad idea either."

My eyes go wide. “What are you saying?

Do you think I need to?

Because shit is going to hit the fan—"

"Relax, it'll all be fab."

I hear my brother say something in the background. "I've got to go. We'll be there soon."

The phone goes dead, and I push myself off my bed and out of my bedroom, scents from the kitchen hitting my nose before I even reach the bottom of the stairs.

“Need help with anything?"

I ask, standing by the counter.

Mom is cutting up vegetables for what looks to be a huge salad. She glances up at me, and then at the microwave.

"No one will be arriving for another hour, I think I'm fine, I have plenty of time."

I can't tell if she's feeling as anxious as me. Mom always has a cool demeanor unless she's screaming at one of us and most of the time that's aimed at Ryan. “What are you making?"

I walk over to the stove. “It smells delicious."

She laughs. "Lasagna, you can't tell?

Normally, you sniff that out like a bloodhound."

That's because it's the best dinner she makes, and I have a feeling my love for it is the reason we're having it tonight. "Right,"

I reply, glancing through the window at the stove, seeing the cheese bubble. "Looks yum."

“Do you want to tell me why you're hovering?"

I turn around, meeting her stare. "I ..."

I didn't plan on what I was going to say. I'm not even sure what made me come downstairs. I just know the nervousness I was feeling in my room was too much and I needed to bust out. "No reason,"

I tell her. "I just thought I'd offer to help."

Which I never do and that suddenly makes me feel worse. "I mean, since it's my boyfriend coming over and you're going out of your way to do all of this for him, the least I can do is ... set the table?"

Her eyelids narrow as though she sees right through me. “You want to make yourself useful?"

She nods at the pile of carrots. "Peel those and chop them when you're done."

"On it."

I hold one of the large carrots in my hand, aiming the peeler against it. "Hey, Mom"—I take a breath—"I appreciate this."

A heat starts to warm my cheeks. "It ... means a lot that you invited him over."

She wraps the garlic bread in foil and says, "Your father and I —"

But her voice is cut off when my dad walks in. He's holding a bag that he places on the counter, taking out a large bottle of wine from inside. "I thought we could both use this."

He then removes four nips of vodka and adds, “And these."

“Honey, start pouring,"

she replies. My parents feel the need to get wasted, something they hardly ever do. Because they can't get it out of their mind. The fucking Christmas tree. Awesome.