The Fear of Falling

Chapter Twenty One

I moved my napkin off of my lap and helped my mom gather the dishes. Meanwhile, my dad cackled out his next greatest hit, "What's the difference between a psychologist and a magician?"

"What, Dad?" I rolled my eyes and smiled.

He slapped his knee. "A magician pulls rabbits out of hats, whereas a psychologist pulls habits out of rats."

I hated the laughter that followed. God, we're nerds.

"Wait," my mom waved her hands, "what about, how many narcissists does it take to change a lightbulb?"

My dad wrapped his arm around her waist. "How many, dear?"

"Just one." She beamed. "All he has to do is hold it in place while the world revolves around him."

"Oh, Mom." I fake gagged, earning the smiles they only shared with me. After only a few hours home, we had already fallen back into our comfortable pattern; dinner, jokes, then a movie.

I scrambled to the worn leather couch and sprawled out, knowing my parents would take the adjacent loveseat.

When Fatal Attraction started, I settled in with a bowl of my dad's extra buttery popcorn.

Then, my phone vibrated beside me. I paused, with a mouthful of popcorn, before wiping my hand clean and clicking on the notification.

"Hey."

I frowned at the unknown number. Who is-

"It's Gavin by the way."

I blinked in surprise. "How did you get my number?" I glanced up at my parents, encapsulated by the opening scene.

"Wade." The frowny face that followed made me snicker.

Before I could respond, Gavin's newest message appeared on the screen. "I just wanted to make sure that you're free Tuesday for the painting session."

It's not like we live together or anything. I ignored my initial, snarky thoughts and typed my response. "I am, I promise."

"Good because this professor is busting my ass."

"Oh, I love that imagery."

"I'd prefer it if it was your ass."

I ignored the heat rushing to my cheeks. "Chill, man. I'm with my parents."

"What, you've never messed around under their roof?"

"No." I was a good kid, always. Besides, I had a snowball's chance in hell of successfully lying to two seasoned psychiatrists.

I watched him type and marveled at the bold response.

"I can fix that."

****

I strolled down the hall with my eyes glued to my phone screen. Gavin's latest response sent blood rushing to my cheeks.

"Would you rather be fucked on the counter or the window?"

I blinked, surprised by how fast the conversation had turned to this. It started as a harmless game of Would You Rather but took a naughty turn after an hour.

I spent the last thirty minutes of the movie clenching my thighs together and refusing to make eye contact with my parents.

Gavin told me it was a rite of passage.

I didn't believe him at first but there I was, wobbling to my bedroom at the end of the hall.

I bit my lip and started typing my response; before I made it to the safety of my room, my hip bone smacked against the table lining the wall.