Faster We Burn

with the maple leaf placemats and a Yankee Candle store’s worth of spice-scented candles were burning. And, of course, Mom had her traditional rust-colored turtleneck on. Dad leaned down from his towering height to give me a hug.
    “How is she?” I whispered.
    “I’ve hidden the coffee so she won’t get crazy on caffeine. So far we haven’t hit panic mode,” Dad whispered back before letting me go.
    “Hey, Mom. Do you need any help?” The counter was covered in cans and bags of flour and cooking spray and spices galore. Stryker would have been horrified at their disorganization.
    I’d said good-bye to him this morning and I was already itching to text him. I’d put my phone in my glove box so I wouldn’t be tempted to look down at it while I was driving.
    “No, I’m fine. Just trying to get organized. When is that guy coming?” As far as my parents knew, Stryker was a friend who was also a guy who didn’t have a home to go to on Thanksgiving. Granted, this was true, but I knew my mother was painting an Oliver Twist-like picture in her head that the reality was going to shatter.
    “Um, I told him to be here by eleven.” We usually ate around one, so that would give my parents enough time to get used to Stryker before we all sat down to dinner. It would also give my relatives enough time to properly embarrass me in front of him.
    “That sounds good. Is he staying the night?” She wiped the counter down with a leaf-shaped sponge. I had no idea where she got this stuff from, but she always managed to find things to fit the holiday.
    “Uhh,” I said, stuttering. I hadn’t anticipated that. “I don’t think he’d planned on it.”
    “Well, didn’t you say he was a couple hours away? We could always make up the extra room for him.” She rinsed the sponge out and I could feel Dad staring intently at me. Normally Mom was the one who read too much into situations with boys.
    “I’ll ask him,” I said, getting out my phone.
    My mom wants to know if u’ll stay the night. In the guest room. I think she thinks ur a loser I’m being nice 2 .
    He responded immediately.
    Can I sneak into your room for pity sex ?
    I had to stop myself from rolling my eyes because both my parents were watching.
    I told you, my dad has guns .
    I could almost hear his sigh through the text.
    Fine. We can rendezvous in the shower. To be continued
    I smiled as I typed dot dot dot
    “Yeah, he’s going to stay.”
    “What did you say his major was?” Mom said, fiddling with the oven.
    “He’s a double mechanical and environmental science major.” Stryker’s majors painted the picture of a helpless dork, complete with glasses and a pocket protector.
    “Impressive. He must be really smart.” Dad was still giving me a searching look.
    “He is. He’s also musically inclined, and may or may not bring a guitar with him. He usually always has one in his car.” I didn’t know which car he’d be bringing, because he was always working on two at once.
    “And he doesn’t have any family?” Mom said.
    “His sister is going with Lottie, actually. Their parents abandoned them and they don’t have any relatives they’re close to.”
    Mom shook her head sadly. Oh, how her delusions were going to be smashed tomorrow.
    “That’s such a shame. Well, he’s more than welcome.”
    “He’s really grateful,” I said, which wasn’t complete bullshit. “So, I’m going to go take my stuff to my room.”
    I scurried away before Dad could intercept me, and shut the door. So far, so good.

 
     
    Chapter Eight
     
     
    Stryker
     
    If I said I wasn’t nervous, I would have been lying. I panicked and wrapped the container I put the baked brie in with towels so even if it bounced, nothing would happen to it and checked my appearance in the mirror more times than I had in all the previous years of my life, combined.
    I’d even made Trish help me pick out a tie, which was like making a really grumpy cat take a bath.
    I’d debated about taking out my piercings, which was another first, but I left them in. I didn’t care what they thought about those. I did, however, wear a long-sleeved shirt that hid my tattoos.
    Luckily, I had a nice long drive to panic and try to rehearse what I was going to say.
    I texted Katie when I was a few minutes away, realizing that in my nervousness, I was pretty early. My GPS directed me that her house was my next right in a lovely calm robotic voice.
    Katie’s neighborhood looked like the set