The Whys of Us

29

warning: sexual themes!

*

Rhysand shifts the gear stick to park and looks at Andy.

"Just be nice and be yourself," she says reassuringly, smiling widely.

"Pick one. I can't be both," Rhysand says.

"You're already both. And you're just facing my dad," Andy counters, laughing. "Baby, you're so nervous, oh my God."

"Jesus, I need a smoke." He shoves his hand inside his pocket for his pack.

Andy glares at him and snatches the pack before he can open it. "No smoking." She takes a lollipop from her bag and unwraps it. "This is your fourth lollipop, did you know that?"

Rhysand leans forward and opens his mouth, and Andy gently pushes the lollipop in between his lips. "I need them," he mutters.

Andy sighs and takes his hand. "Don't be nervous, Rhys. He's going to love you."

He shoots her a flat look.

"Okay, he's going to like you," Andy says, laughing. "And it's not like he's going to shoot you in the head. Just remember: don't tell him I sleep over. Don't tell him we've done...stuff. And don't ask about my mom."

Rhysand squeezes her hand. "Okay. I can do that."

"Oh, and you can't touch me around him."

Rhysand takes out the lollipop. "That's going to be a little hard."

Andy laughs. "You're so cute."

She waits for Rhysand to finish his lollipop before they go inside the house.

Trey Sanford, in his police uniform, is cooking when they enter the house, but he drops whatever's on his hands to catch his daughter running up to him. "Hi, kiddo."

"Dad, missed you," she says, hugging him around his neck. "And you just got off work again!"

He kisses her cheek and puts her down, then he keeps his arm around her shoulders to look at Rhysand. He drops the smile. "Reesand, is it?"

"Dad, it's Rhysand," Andy says, giggling, grabbing Rhysand's hand. "This is my boyfriend, Rhysand Harton. Rhys, this is my dad."

"Sir," Rhysand says.

A loud laugh escapes Andy's lips.

Her dad still looks terrifying, but his mouth twitches. "It's Trey." He extends his hand out. "Andy tells me you're a music producer?"

Rhysand shakes his hand, face stoic and posture stiff. Andy squeezes his bicep. "Yes, sir—Trey. Uh, thank you for having me."

Her dad nods once. "You can bring your bags up to Andy's room and come help me in the kitchen. I set up a mattress on the floor."

Andy flushes. "Dad, you didn't have to do that. And also, Rhysand drove the whole way here. I'll help you—"

"I'm fine," Rhysand says immediately, shaking his head. "I'll get the bags." He sends Andy a small, nervous smile and goes out the door.

Andy faces her dad with a frown. "Don't terrorize him, please."

He drops the scary-dad act. "I'm not," he dad defends, blinking innocently. "Well, he's handsome at least. And tall. And he has manners."

"And he's a good cook," Andy adds, grinning. "And he's hardworking, and caring, and kind—"

"Okay, yeah, enough of that," he says gruffly, scrunching his face in disgust. "But I'm serious about the mattress, young lady."