The following morning, I woke up with only a mild hangover. As I pulled myself out towards the kitchen, I spotted Natalie on the couch. Sitting cross-legged with a bowl of cereal, she was lounging in pajamas that were probably more expensive than my entire bedroom.

Even after a few weeks here, I hadn’t gotten over how nice Nat’s apartment was. Even if she insisted that it was ours and not just hers, I couldn’t pretend to own any of this opulence.

The far wall was a seamless sheet of glass, overlooking the river. I had a fantastic view of the distant suspension bridge, the city park below, and several nearby, aesthetically pleasing buildings.

The floor across the entire apartment was a rich, polished green tile, which worked well with our premium black kitchen appliances, stone white countertops, and concrete walls.

As for our living room itself, a large, black sectional couch with matching ottoman and chaise dominated the area, facing away from the back bedrooms. Front and center was a wall-mounted flat-screen smart TV, perfectly suited for her fixation on binge-watching her streamed shows.

Rounding out Natalie’s other major vice was a corner bar area, close to her bedroom (naturally). It featured glasses that were tucked away neatly with a discreet wine cooler.

Finally, the kitchen ran alongside the living room, stretching out directly in front from my bedroom door. The left side became a long island between two pillars, whereas the other side boasted the appliances. All in all, the culinary amenities were modern, professional, and probably cost tens of thousands of dollars.

“Heya, Claire-bear,” Natalie grinned chirpily, glancing at me over her shoulder. “You’re up late. Feeling alright?”

“We’ve been over this a million times, Nat,” I sluggishly groaned as I shuffled towards the island for support. God, I feel terrible. “That pet name of yours doesn’t work when my name’s not actually Claire.”

“Yeah, well, suck it up,” my best friend chuckled, turning her eyes back to the television. “Anyway, don’t you, like, have a thing with your mom today?”

Recollection snapped me to alertness. I stumbled towards the clock on the oven and cursed myself for oversleeping.

“Oh shit, I’m gonna be late!”

“You’re making a bad habit of that!” She rang out in a singsong voice, before chomping down on a spoonful of cereal. “And here I was, about to invite you to Netflix the shit out of some shows with me. When’ve you gotta be there?”

“Two hours,” I moaned self-piteously.

“What? You can totally make that.”

“It takes an hour and a half to get there, and I’m a total mess at the moment, if you couldn’t tell…”

“So what? Skip the shower. Slap on some makeup. Brush your teeth. Put on pants. The problem practically solves itself!” She threw her hands up in mock exasperation. “Do I need to figure all this shit out for you, or can you be a functioning adult for, like, one goddamn day?”

I couldn’t help but grin. Her friendship was a definite blessing to me.

“One day I’m gonna strangle you, you smart-ass,” I chuckled groggily. “But I’ll need that shower to wake me up… so, you know, enjoy your Netflix boyfriend. Gonna make that Jared of yours jealous.”

“It’s true, Netflix is bae,” Nat cheerfully announced. “Jared knows his place. He buys me shit. He gives me the dick, but Netflix? Netflix is where my heart goes.”

“I thought that was pizza,” I retorted.

“Netflix and I have an open relationship with pizza. It’s working out pretty well.”

“You’re hopeless.”

“And you will be, too, if you don’t get your ass in gear. Shower if you’re gonna, bitch!”

Shaking my head, I followed her advice. I really hated showering any less than half an hour, but time was of the essence. After a quick, begrudgingly utilitarian rinse, I stood under the faucet and let the steam cloud my senses for a few minutes.

One hair-drying session, a brisk bit of makeup, and a fresh set of presentable clothes later, I was traipsing towards the door.

“Hey, have you heard anything from your Good Samaritan yet?”

“My what?”

“Uh, Dalton, I think he said his name was,” Natalie clarified, pausing the television. “Dude from the bar. It was weird – you hated him one moment, and then you were practically hanging on his every word the next. But he turned out to be pretty chill, all things considered.”

“Did he?”

The memories slowly drifted back. I faintly remembered the conversation we had. Dalton told me about his chemical engineer father, about being in the Marines for two terms, and some other things that were slipping my mind.

“Yeah. He could have dragged you to his place, or at least tried. I was keeping an eye on you and making sure nothing funny happened. But then he walked right up to me and put you in my care instead of trying to fuck you.”

“We wouldn’t have fucked.”

“Oh Clara, you would have definitely fucked him. You should have seen the look in your eyes. After you warmed up to him, you would have rode that dick all night long.”

“Ugh,” I grunted. “Was I that bad?”

“You weren’t bad, per se, but it was a bit of a fight to get you back here. You kept trying to call the poor guy in the middle of the night.”

“Wow,” I shook my head. “Wonder what got into me.”

“Well, to be fair, he was definitely into you, too. And he was handsome as fuck. You two would have had extraordinary sex, and I’d have been cheering you guys on from the other side of the wall.”

“Vote of confidence, that quickly? What if he turned out to be an axe murderer?”

“I’d have taken that chance. Let’s tally it up, shall we?” Natalie grinned, hopping over the arm of the couch and leaning on the other side of the island.

I shook my head in amusement as she leaned forward, counting off of her fingers.

“(1) Dude’s a Marine. Or was. Either way, it’s awesome, and he’s still a total hottie. (2) That English accent. It’s to die for, really. He sounds so dignified! (3) He didn’t try to take advantage of you. I can’t really stress that one enough. How often does that happen these days? Borderline never.”

“You’re trying to hook us up, aren’t you?” I asked coyly. “Natalie, I just met the guy.”

“Hey, all I’m saying is you need someone to help you get over that total jerk-stain of an ex. Why not some big sexy arrogant marine?”

“Lets not talk about Jeremy.”

“Of course I’m going to talk about Jeremy,” she said. “This guy’s, like, the total opposite of him. Total dreamboat, with the whole consent thing down. You should go after him.”

“Jeremy didn’t do anything without consent.”

“No, but I think psychological coercion is sort of a gray area when it comes to the whole ‘consent’ thing… and this guy? He seemed to be pretty legit when the opportunity to take advantage rolled his way.”

“Well… it’s true that I can’t remember the last time you’ve ever really approved of anyone I’ve been with,” I thought aloud.

“Clara, this might come as a surprise, but you have really shitty taste in guys. When the good ones come around, you’re never interested! I just think you should give that guy a shot. You never know what’ll come of it, right?”

“I’m going to remind you, potential axe murderer.” It was supposed to be halfway serious, but my widening grin totally ruined it.

“Look, you can’t keep a straight face. But anyway. You’re already late. Think about it! Text that guy when you’re back, alright? If he’s a total tool, then no love lost, but he already plugged his number into your phone and everything.”

Oh yeah. I forgot about that.

“Alright, alright, fine. I’ll text him when I come back and thank him for his gentlemanly ways.”

“There you go, girl!” Natalie cheered. “Now get out there and get this stupid family thing over with so that you can move on with your life!”

The huge, stupid smile stayed smack across my face as I walked down the hall, took the elevator to the lobby, crossed over to the parking garage elevator, and wandered towards my car.

As I left the city, I put Tove Lo’s album on and headed down the interstate. Ever mindful of the time, I went roughly ten over the limit most of the way – keeping my eyes peeled for any parked squad cars and speed traps along the side.

Luckily, fortune favored me today. My haphazard driving made me barely able to arrive in time for lunch. As I arrived, my eyes fell upon two unfamiliar vehicles outside Mom’s house – an expensive gas-guzzler of a truck, and a worn but highly serviceable motorcycle.

I reasoned that the younger one probably had the motorcycle. Oh good. Not only is the kid old enough to drive… he’s old enough to be comfortable on a motorcycle.

Mom stepped outside to greet me as I parked beside the other vehicles. She met me at the front patio, drawing me into another one of her warm, loving, but mildly suffocating embraces.

“Hello, dear! It’s been so long! I’m so happy to see you again,” she cooed, holding me at arm’s length after the hug to scrutinize my appearance. “Are you eating properly? You look like you’ve lost weight!”

“I’ve been eating a little better, yeah. The banquet serving job keeps me running ragged too, so there’s that…”

“Well, we need to put some more meat on those bones!” Mom chortled happily.

I didn’t have the heart to tell her that I’d been coming back from an eating disorder I’d developed while at home. Mom, who was naturally a wider woman, had always been obsessed with my appearance. She looked down on “skinny bitches” and liked to keep me “fattened up”.

Oh yeah.

It took a few therapy sessions to fix that.

“So, where are they?” I politely redirected the topic as I followed her inside. “Have you killed them already?”

“Oh, heavens no!” Mom chuckled haughtily. “They’re both in the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on lunch.”

“They both cook?” I grinned slyly. “Sounds like a dream come true for you. Two grown men, taking care of all your meals…”

“For a Brit, William knows his way around a spice rack, that’s for sure.”

I was about to comment on that coincidence when we turned the corner into the kitchen… and my heart practically stopped on the spot.

Oh no. This CAN’T be happening.

The two gentlemen had their backs to me, but turned when we came into the room. I recognized the younger one instantly, and a faint look of surprise flickered across his face as he took me in.

His father was the first to say something.

“Clara! I’m William. It’s great to finally meet you!” The older man exclaimed cheerily. He was the spitting image of his son, but with light gray fringing his hair and a pair of horn-rimmed glasses over his eyes.

“Hi, William,” I responded as politely as I could muster. My eyes immediately slid to the other one, though.

How. How is this happening?

“And allow me to introduce my son, Dalton.” He motioned towards the marine from last night, who stepped forward to reach out his hand.

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Clara,” Dalton smiled warmly. “I’ve heard good things about you.”

Temporarily rendered speechless, I hastily swallowed as I shook his hand.

“Yes… you too.”

“Oh?” Mom asked, taking interest in this. “Are you familiar with Dalton? I don’t remember ever saying anything about him to you on the phone…”

Shit.

“Yeah, Mom, you totally did,” I nervously insisted. “You mentioned something about him being in the Marines, right?”

“No, don’t believe so,” she shook her head. “Hell, I didn’t even know about the Marines until a few days ago, isn’t that right, Will?”

William shrugged. “I can’t remember how long ago that was. A week? Two? A month? Regardless, it doesn’t particularly matter, does it now?”

Mom pursed her lips but conceded the point. She had a bulletproof memory, and hated to not be completely correct. That’s why, when she answered, “No, I suppose not,” she turned to me with a curious look.

“Anyway, why don’t you two sit down and acquaint yourselves, hmm?” William gestured towards the hall. “Go get seated. Sarah and I will wrap up things here, yeah?”

“Sounds good, Father,” Dalton nodded cordially before disappearing into the hallway.

Confused and alarmed, I followed him out of their sight, cornering him as soon as we arrived at the dining room.

“What the hell? Is this some kind of sick joke?” I demanded, halfway accusing him.

“Kind of what I was beginning to wonder,” he replied apathetically. “I mean, what are the odds? We run into each other last night, you want me to fuck your brains out, and now we’re sitting across the table from one another as our parents prepare to tell us all about how they met…”

“I was not going to fuck your brains out,” I snapped quietly, thinking back to Natalie’s words.

“You said about that much.”

“I was drunk.”

“And that’s why I didn’t bring you home with me,” he replied casually. “There’s no way you could have consented in your state. You got yourself plastered last night. Off of one drink! One!”

“The bartenders suck at that bar,” I groaned. “The guy probably fucked up the alcohol ratios and handed me the strongest long island in history.”

“Which somehow evaded your notice…?”

“I was tired.”

“Tired,” he scoffed, summing me up with a glance. “You were tired. That’s what you’re going with? Look, I understand that you’re upset about this, but–”

Dalton lowered his voice and took his seat as we heard footsteps. After a moment, our parents came into the room, setting various pots and dishes down on the placemats.

“Why don’t you sit down, Clara?” Mom asked politely. “We’ll be back in a moment.”

I did as I was told, and the two of them disappeared back to bring out more food. The moment that they were gone, I rounded my furious gaze back to Dalton.

“I’m just weirded out,” I hissed. “This is obviously a sign that we weren’t meant to happen.”

“What do you mean, ‘weren’t meant to happen?’” Dalton asked, looking just slightly bothered by my wording. “You know, we saw each other before we knew about any of this. I don’t necessarily see that as being wrong.”

“Are you being serious right now?” I asked with mild disgust. “You can’t be being serious. Not at all.”

“Look, we can talk about this later,” he remarked. “They’ll be back in a second.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” I insisted, crossing my arms. “We almost had sex, but we didn’t, and now our parents have revealed to us that they’re dating. Case closed.”

A look of anger flashed across Dalton’s face. He was opening his mouth to retort when Mom and William popped back into the room, setting the last few pots down and taking their seats with us.

“Alright, kids, dig in!” William chuckled, rubbing his hands together. Sarah complimented the men on the food, and Dalton flashed me a knowing look.

And so begun the most awkward lunch of my entire fucking life.