White Noise

25

Breakfast did sound great.

Until JD added that it was with his mother.

Who, as it just so happens, had been the one to walk in while we were...

"I can't meet her," I said, shaking my head over and over again as my lungs felt like they were going to explode under the weight of my growing anxiety. "Not right now."

JD glowered at me.

"JD," I hissed, some odd sense of frustration bubbling inside me. "I am not meeting your mother right after she walked in on us..."

He smirked at my discomfort as I grappled with the words to explain exactly what it was we were doing.

I gave up with a scoff and exaggerated flail of my arms.

JD mimicked my dramaticism with an embellished eye roll that moved his entire head. Then, his eyes slid down to my shifting feet and fidgety fingers. Without hesitation, he closed the space between us, his hands gripping my waist to help steady my anxious movements. "It's fine, Katie. She doesn't care."

Now it was me that glowered at him. "I care."

I had never met a guy I was seeing's parents before. Obviously. But I had imagined it. Over the years, I painted an image in my mind of how it might happen when I did finally meet someone's parents. We'd go out for a nice luncheon. Or maybe they'd kindly invite me over for dinner at their house.

I would show up with the most beautiful bouquet of flowers for his mom. Definitely her favorite kind, after I'd pestered him to find out what type she liked.

I would be put together. With a clean, made up face. Dressed in an ironed blouse and a skirt that covered my knees.

Appropriate. Impressive. Respectable.

That was me.

Not the morning after girl, who slept in his bed. Who was hungover and burnt, with unkempt hair and smudged eyeliner, wearing last night's clothes.

Clothes.

All I had was a wrinkled crop top and high waisted jean shorts that landed at my mid-thigh. At best.

"JD," I gasped. "I don't have clothes."

He gave me a curious, slightly confused look and tilted his head to the side. If I wasn't absolutely freaking out, I would've been able to appreciate how adorable he looked doing that.

"I don't have clothes to meet your mother in," I clarified quickly, when it was clear he wasn't getting it.

His hands squeezed my waist disapprovingly. "Your clothes are fine."

"A crop top?" I squeaked, exasperated. Granted, it was loose and flowy and not low cut. But I wouldn't be surprised if, based on my antics last night, it was sporting some type of beer stain.

JD's eyebrows rose. "Fine. If it's such an issue, just wear my clothes."

My jaw dropped to the floor. I swear it almost unhinged. "You can't be serious."

He grinned at me, pulling me a step closer as his hands ran up my sides. "Why not? I quite like you in my shirt."

Oh. So he's got jokes now.

I pressed a hand to his chest, knowing full well he wouldn't budge. Still, it felt good to try. I glared at him, my pulse continuing to climb. "That's great for you. Glad to hear it. But this is your mother. Your one and only mother, who I have one chance to make a first impression on, which, frankly, I've probably already—"