Bad Boys Don't Date Good Girls

No Kissing At The Table

I stumble out of my bathroom clutching the sides of my flowing black dress. I want to look extra formal to impress Logan's mother. Even if that means wearing a dress that flows into the next state.

I take a pair of pearl studs out of my jewelry box and put them on. I take the matching necklace and lay it across my chest, the pearls cold against my skin.

I shuffle back into my bathroom and grab my curling wand. I burn my pinky finger and swear violently to myself. I fix a few loose curls and fluff. My black hair drapes down my back and I smile in satisfaction.

"Bella! Logan is here!" My mom calls from downstairs.

"Coming!" I grab my silver pumps and rush down the stairs. I trip on the last step.

"Whoa there little lady!" Logan laughs, catching me. "In a hurry?"

I straighten myself out and fix my hair. "Shut up."

He smooths down his lavendar button up and black jeans. I've never seen him so dressed up.

"You look nice," I smile.

"I pale in comparison to you, my sweet Isabella." He grabs my chin and pecks my lips.

"Where's Logan? And what did you do with him?"

He chuckles and walks towards the door. "What do you mean?"

We walk outside and he opens my door for me. When he gets in I continue. "You're being extra sweet. Why?"

I notice that we're in a car when he starts the ignition. "Where's the motorcycle? Whose car is this?"

"So many questions." He pulls away from the curb. "I'm being extra sweet because I'm happy. I'm happy that you get to meet my family. My motorcycle is at home. This is my older sister Becky's car."

"Oh."

He reaches over and grabs my hand. "Just relax. You're in for a really good time. My family is crazy."
I smile to myself. I like how he talks about his family.

We pull up to a large "glass" house. There are so many huge windows that the house looks like it's made of glass. The shades are open so we can see the orange glow of the lights inside. It looks homey.

Logan gets out and opens my door. He takes my hand and leads me up the stoned steps.

When we get to the front door it swings wide open. We're met with a girl whom I would assume is Logan's older sister.

She has the same green eyes as her brother but instead of being a brunette like him, she's a ginger. She smiles and a dimple pops in her right cheek.

"You must be Isabella! Come in! Come in!" We step into the warm home. "You're even more beautiful than Logan described you!"

I look at Logan with a smile and am shocked to see his tanned face flush a salmon pink color.

"Thanks Becky." He mutters. Becky leads us pass the living room that's more like a grand hall and into the dining room. Two twin girls are seated across from each over. They look about eight. They watch the line of candles in the center of the long table before turning to look at me.

"Is this Isabella?" They ask at the same time.

"Yes she is!" Becky says excitedly.

They get out of their chairs and walk over to me. Again like Becky they're gingers.

"My dad was a ginger," Logan whispers.

"Was?" Before he can answer the twins take my hand. I bend down so that I'm eye level with them. "Hi! What are your names?"

The one in the baby blue dress answers first, "I'm Peyton."

The one in the yellow dress answers next, "And I'm Paisley."

"I'm older by two whole minutes!" Peyton throws both hands on her hips and smiles smugly.

"Isabella doesn't care. It's about who's smarter." This time Paisley throws her hands on her hips.

"She does too care!" Peyton whines.

"Does not!" Paisley contradicts.

"Does too!"

"Does not!"

"Girls! Girls! You're giving me a headache. What's with all the commotion?" A slender woman with short dark brown hair steps out of the kitchen. Her black apron contrasts against her white body con dress.

I stand up and smile.

"Oh my gosh! Well if it isn't Isabella!" She rushes over to me and squeezes me. "You're so beautiful!"

"Thank you. So are you Mrs. Thompson."

"She's so beautiful!" She gushes to Logan and Becky. "Oh and please, call me Miranda!"

She takes me and leads me to the table. "Logan told me that you're a vegetarian so I prepared eggplant parmesan with garlic roasted potatoes. How does that sound?"

"I just drooled a little on your table. I am so sorry."

She laughs and squeezes my shoulders. "She's a keeper! Logan have a seat!"

She rushes back into the kitchen and Logan takes a seat next to me. He rubs my thigh under the table and I swat his hand away. He chuckles and folds his hands on the table. I nod in approval.

"Becky be a dear and help me with the food?"

Becky waltzes into the kitchen and I let out several deep breaths.

"No need to be nervous. They love you." Logan whispers.

Peyton tries to touch the candle fire and Logan grabs her hand and picks her up out of her chair. "We don't touch fire, squirt." He tickles her belly and she erupts in laughter. He continues until tears are streaming down her cheeks.

"Me next! Me next!" Paisley hops out of her seat across from us and runs to Logan.

"Ehh. I don't know if I have the energy to..."

He grabs her and tickles her neck and she kicks and screams. My smile is so wide that it actually begins to hurt.

"Dinner is served!" Mrs. Thompson and Becky immerge from the kitchen with the food and we all return to our seats.

Becky plates everyone's food and Peyton volunteers to say grace.

We eat and talk and eat some more. Logan's mother can really cook. I tell the family about myself and my mother and he twins tell me about their school and pets. Mrs.Thompson tells me about how Logan's dad was in the military and died two years ago while over seas. I hold his hand as she tells the story because I see the glisten in his eyes.

When Mrs. Thompson goes to get dessert, Becky tells me about her college life and engagement to her high school sweetheart.

When we finish devouring Mrs. Thompson's chocolate lava cake she leans back and smiles at me.

"You, my darling, are one of a kind. I am so happy that my little Logan is dating you."

Logan squeezes my hand and tears whell up in my eyes, "thank you ma'am. I am happy to be dating your son."

Logan pulls me in for a kiss and Peyton and Paisley gag in response.

"No kissing at the table," Mrs. Thompson scolds.

Logan pulls back and gives his mother a pleading look.

"Well maybe just a peck." She smiles.

Logan pulls me towards him again and I let him kiss me. Even though this is more than a peck.