The entire day, all I thought about was dating him. Do I say yes? Do I say no? I told him I would think about it (and believe me, I have,) but I still haven't come up with an answer to his question.

The things he does to me, the way he makes me feel—it's all too much. Maybe I I hate the things he makes me feel, not the things he makes other girls feel, if that makes sense.

I don't know how to explain it. To be honest, if he told me to do something, I feel like I would go ahead and just do it. But there's still that something inside of me that would definitely back away immediately at the thought of obliging to anything he even remotely wanted.

Right now, those two specific parts of me are warring against each other, and it's really hard to tell which is winning.

The way I look at him now as opposed to before, it's different. I think he's gotten under my skin, and I'm trying to claw him out like I'm constantly itching at a writhing parasite.

Except at the same time, I want the parasite to live there and relax and make himself a coffee while he's at it.

Coffee... mint... delicious—

Xavier doesn't even smell like cologne. what boy doesn't smell like cologne? Walking through the hallways at school, it's a freaking fog-storm of boyish incense. Girls dig that kind of stuff sometimes, but I pass by other nose-pluggers as I struggle with my own breathing.

But him? I think I could smell him for hours on end and never get tired of his scent. I don't think I would've taken him as a coffee drinker, but I can never picture him any other way. Maybe he wakes up every morning, brewing a cup for himself. Maybe he takes slow sips, leaning against the kitchen counter—

I also haven't forgotten that tonight is the night my boss is coming over to have dinner with my family. Plus he's bringing Daniel, which just adds on to the mountain of stress currently weighing on my shoulders.

"Sweetheart, are you almost done in there?" my mom yells, trying to grab my attention from downstairs. "They'll be here soon!"

I roll my eyes and gag in annoyance, accidentally (and pathetically) choking on my spit. I'm not in the mood to see 1) my boss tonight, right in front of my parents, and 2) Daniel, for the exact same reason.

I remember how he discretely-not-so-discretely flirted up a storm last Friday night with Sarah and I. I know he didn't have a clue I'm a seventeen-year-old teenager who still hasn't slept with anyone in her life, but I still think his pursuit was a little weird. He must be 25, 26 maybe? I mean, with those muscles and that shadow of a beard staining his chin, he's certainly no Little-Timothy.

"Yeah, I'm coming!" I yell back, fixing my outfit. Tonight, I chose to wear a plain black tank top with classic Mom Jeans, ripped at the knees and folded near the ankles. I considered wearing makeup, but thought better of it.

The doorbell chimes and I freeze in my place, debating whether to just suck it up and go downstairs or jump out of my bedroom window.

I go for the first option, tugging my jeans over my waist like I'm pulling up my big girl panties. I puff up my chest, and give myself a little pep-talk before walking downstairs.

"You're ready for this," I say, pointing to my reflection in my full body mirror. "You are ready for this. You are going to go down there and you are going to act like nothing is wrong." I thump a fist over my heart, raising my head. "Let's. Go."

I walk downstairs as ready as I've ever been, listening to the quiet mumbles of my parents and our guests in the kitchen. I hear Getz's bellowing tone, and Daniel's honey words drip of sweetness from his mouth.

"I don't believe you've met my daughter yet," I hear my father say.  "She's quite a kid."

"I'm not sure I have. I've only ever seen this lil' dude." Getz must've done something to trigger a quiet giggle from my brother, whom I notice is standing in the kitchen with everyone else.

"She'd love you," my mother starts. "I'm sure her and Daniel would get a long well."

"Can't wait to meet her," Daniel says, his voice dripping with excitement.

Okay, this is my time to shine. I'm going to get in that kitchen, and I'm going to introduce myself like I don't know who these people are. I'm going to put a fake smile on my face, and nod my head with everything everyone says. I'm just going to be the good daughter I've always been, and pretend like everything's okay—

I enter the kitchen with a very pretentious grin, hoping it will satisfy that of my parents and our guests.

My mom and dad seem okay with it, but when I look over at Getz and Daniel, their faces drop like the temperature in the wintertime.

Here goes nothing.

__

All of us are sitting at the dinner table while my parents place a beautiful pot of homemade spaghetti before us. I marvel at the meal, helping my brother with his serving while trying to ignore the horrified and confused looks on our guests' faces.

They haven't stopped staring at me since I walked into the kitchen.

"So, Getz. How's work been?" my mother asks, taking a seat at the table.

His head turns to her, but his eyes remain on me. "Good. It's been good."

"The club hasn't been acting up lately?" my father chimes in, taking a large scoop of pasta noodles from the pot.

"No. Not that I know of." His gaze finally lands on someone else—Daniel—and his nephew wearily takes his eyes off me and looks at his uncle.

"It's been great. We have lots of hardworking employees there."

I give him the slightest glance and squint my eyelids, clearly dissatisfied with that risky reference of his. To my surprise he winks back at me, smiling and taking a bite of the spaghetti twirled onto his fork.

It seems he's gotten the memo: my parents won't know of where I work. Can I get Getz to do the same?

"Yes. We do. Uh, Daniel has been looking after the club for quite some time now," Getz says, trying to focus all his attention on his plate. He takes a large bite of the pasta and forces a swallow.

"That's good," my father starts. "Maybe Delta should work for you sometime, aye there Getz?"

All at once, Daniel, my boss and I begin to cough our lungs out, acting as though we choked on the food. I try to stifle a "crap" from my mouth, which quietly comes out when I practically stuff a napkin down my throat.

"Oh, no. No, no, I think she's a little too young," my boss says, shaking his head. "It gets a little... intense in there sometimes."

I know he's referring to the Nightfall Knockouts, but something inside of me breaks a little at the meaning of his words. Does he really think I'm too young? Or is he just trying to keep my work out of the conversation?

"No, I think she's old enough," Daniel starts. "Delta seems like a really mature girl." Again he winks at me, and a warm feeling in the pit of my stomach heats my insides. It's enough to make me blush.

"Uh, thanks?" I stutter.

He smiles. "No problem."

A long silence falls over the dinner table and I bask in it while it lasts, loving the fact that I'm not talking and making a complete fool out of myself. I wasn't expecting this at all, seeing my boss, his nephew, and my parents in the same room.

But here we are, three of us tangled in one awkward situation while my family is quietly munching on the pasta. I completely lost my appetite, and I slowly pick at my food instead.

"Are you not hungry, sweetheart?" my mother asks, pointing to my plate.

I shake my head, blushing at the nickname my mother had just used. Braedyn immediately takes my plate away, mumbling a small, "I'll eat it!"

Daniel and Getz laugh, their attention momentarily taken off me and on to my little brother inhaling the spaghetti before him.

"Braedyn, where are your manners?" my father scolds.

The little boy beside me shrugs his shoulders, more focused on stuffing noodles in his face.

The doorbell suddenly rings, and I half-expect Louise and Sarah to just come on in, strutting their stuff and taking a seat at the dining room table.

"I'll get it," I say, snapping to attention. My mother is quick to get out of her seat, but thankfully I'm quicker. I bolt right out of there, which forces my mother back in her chair.

A quiet sigh escapes me, but the stress is put back on my shoulders as another chime of the doorbell sounds through the foyer. I hurry myself to the front, plastering a relieved smile on my face until—

My eyes widen, and I stare at Xavier casually leaning against the doorframe.