"I heard you had lover-boy over last night," Eric said while we studied together at my coffee shop.

"I did." I highlighted a passage that seemed important in my textbook. "He was great with my parents. I think he was a hit. My mom wouldn't stop talking about him."

Eric nodded slowly. "I'm glad they do. It'd be pretty rough for both of you if they hated him."

"True true." 

My best friend was supposed to come study with me, but she had bailed. After Andy has left the night he met my parents, I tried to gush to her via text. She listened but left me on read for an hour before responding that she was busy and apologized that she wouldn't be coming today. I knew she probably wasn't even reading my messages. She had a new boyfriend and was busy with him. They were probably out somewhere together when she texted me.

I chose to give her the benefit of the doubt since she always got caught up when she landed a new guy. Because of that, I had ended up only spending time with Eric, her ex's friend. That was only because we had met in high school a few times. Had we never met, I probably wouldn't have thought twice about him when his friend broke up with mine.

After we had studied in silence for a while, he put his pen down and stretched. "I want a snack," he said, looking at the front counter. "Want anything? My treat."

I shook my head, thinking about the dress I was aiming to be able to squeeze into. "I'm good. Thanks, though."

"Suit yourself." 

While he was gone, I checked my phone. I'd been checking it the entire morning, but there was still nothing. Andy hadn't texted me yet. I didn't expect him to text me all the time, but he still sent me a 'good morning' text when he woke up and a 'goodnight text' when I went to bed. If he forgot, he texted me during the morning to apologize. So far, I hadn't heard anything from him and it was the afternoon.

I hoped he was okay. 

Eric came back and while we were studying, I couldn't focus. My mind kept wandering back to Andy again and again. 

"Do you love him?" The words startled me out of my mind and I looked at Eric. He was avoiding my gaze and there was a look in his eyes that made my chest squeeze. 

I didn't want to answer him, but I couldn't not do it. "Yes," I said simply. The heavy words settled around us. 

"Okay." He kept writing, as if nothing had happened. 

I hesitated for a moment before putting my highlighter down on my laptop. "Hey, Eric. Are you happy for me?" It was an unfair question, especially looking back. 

He looked up and he met my gaze. "Are you happy?"

I smiled softly at him. "Yeah. I think I am."

"Then so am I."

---

Two days after I met Eric at the coffee shop, I finally heard from Andy. I'd texted him a few times to check on him but never got a response. I was relieved that he was okay. He apologized in his message, saying he was sorry that he hadn't had the time recently to text me, and to make it up to me, he invited me to come with his family to their vacation home - the one he'd take me to on our first unofficial date - for the weekend. 

I agreed to go with them, but I was wracked with nerves. His family was much richer than mine and I wasn't sure what type of girl they wanted for their son. Did they want someone who wears makeup and heels and a skirt with perfect hair? Did they want someone not so flashy but put together, maybe with a clean face and pearls? Did they expect jeans, but something expensive? 

Melissa excitedly talked to me about the trip at school when she sat with me and Eric for lunch that day. She said we would be sharing a room and she had some stuff to show me at the other house. They kept all of their family photo albums and yearbooks there, so she told me we could look through them if I wanted.

I did. I wanted to see what a little Andy looked like. 

A couple of weeks after Andy met my parents, I found myself in a car with him and Melissa on our way down to their home in Petersburg. The drive felt a lot like the first time I went with him, but more fun. 

She was a lot like her brother. We cranked up the radio and sang most of the way to the house. It was like everything was on blast; the fun was cranked up and whatever was drawing me to this family. 

When we finally arrived, I was as impressed as ever by the house. This time, though, instead of fall foliage, there were fresh green leaves everywhere and flowers beginning to bud out. It was, in short, breathtaking both figuratively and literally because of my allergies. 

Their parents weren't arriving until the evening time, so the three of us went in and I followed Melissa to her room. It was cute, but something seemed impersonal about it. Like someone else had decorated it, even though it looked like her room back home. I studied the room while we figured out our sleeping arrangements. 

When we were ready to head to the living room to wait for their parents, I realized. There were no pictures. Back home, she'd put a few pictures with me and my friends into frames and stuck a couple in her mirror. Here, there was nothing. She's grown up here. If she only had recent pictures now, did she not have many friends growing up? Or had she simply not been interested in them?

I wanted to ask her. I wanted to so bad, but I held back. Asking would only be prying, and, yes, I hoped she would eventually be my sister, but I wanted everything to take its natural course. After all, I hoped we'd have years to get closer. 

Andy was waiting on the sofa for us. I sat next to him and he put his arm around me. Melissa sat facing us, the look on her face betraying how cute she thought we were. The atmosphere was good. I remember it vividly. Even now. Everything made me feel at home. Content. I was starting to understand what I was feeling. It wasn't deep or complicated - but rather it was because I was so relaxed. I didn't even feel this comfortable at my own home. 

When evening fell and their parents got there, that relaxed atmosphere kind of all went away. The air got tense, the feeling like someone had been arguing prior to this trip permeating the space. I couldn't help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, it was about me. After all, I was the outsider here. I got along well with Andy and Melissa, but their parents were a different story. Getting along with their kids didn't mean I'd get along with them or that they'd accept me. 

Their mom kept giving me looks and their dad didn't acknowledge me. As I watched, I began to wonder if maybe they had the fight. They didn't even look at each other. I wasn't going to ask. I wasn't family, not even extended family, and had no right to. 

Andy rubbed my shoulder and I sank into his side, trying to hide my existence while the air filled with tension. Melissa smiled at me but turned an anxious look on her parents that didn't match her relaxed body language. 

Mr. and Mrs. Oden sat down some of the bags they were carrying in the kitchen and then headed straight to their bedroom. Almost the moment the door clicked, Melissa and Andy both got up and began going through the bags and putting things away, pulling out plates, and setting the table. I watched them, curious. Then I spotted it: KFC. Their parents had brought dinner. 

I timidly got up and joined them in the kitchen. Andy gave me a warm smile and wordlessly opened the cupboard with glasses. I checked the table to see how many plates Melissa was setting out and grabbed the same number of glasses. Once the table was set, Melissa and Andy sat down, but didn't touch the food. A couple of minutes later their parents emerged from their room, changed into something that looked a little less like haute couture and more like normal house clothes. 

Their mom had her hair up in a messy bun secured by an oversized hairclip and was wearing yoga pants. Their dad was in jean shorts and house shoes, though he still wore a polo shirt. Their dad gave thanks for the food and the Odens quietly began getting their food. I just watched, slightly amazed. Without the sound of metal utensils scraping the fast food containers and chicken being sat on plates, it would have been utter silence. 

Andy held out a container of mashed potatoes. I wiped my hand on my jeans under the table before I grabbed it. I put a small amount on my plate and tried to hand it back. He took it and put a little more on my plate before putting it back in the middle of the table and offering me the gravy. I shook my head and he put it back. 

He did the same with the other two sides and then the bucket of chicken. It felt weird to be offered food and be given more when I take some. It was like he knew I was nervous and purposely not getting all I wanted. The thought warmed my heart and I tapped his leg under the table. He glanced at me before sliding his hand over and lacing our fingers.

After we were all done eating, but before anyone got up, the parents looked at me. I stiffened and squeezed the hand I was still holding. "So you're the girlfriend we've been hearing about," Mrs. Oden said. "It's nice to finally meet you. Would you care for a glass of wine?"

I smiled and shook my head. "No, thank you. I'm not old enough yet."

She raised an eyebrow at her son. "Is that so. Well, shall we skip the wine, then? What are you majoring in?"

"I'm taking pre-law."

"So you're planning to become a lawyer?" Mr. Oden asked.

I shrugged. "I'm not entirely sure, but the legal field is definitely on the table. I find is somewhat fascinating. My personal preference, though, is more along the lines of a advocate for victims of violence, both inside and outside the home." Mrs. Oden and Melissa looked impressed and gave me a nod.

"Anyone that's experienced violence inside the home is probably someone that doesn't want an advocate," Mr. Oden said as he sipped on his second beer. "I've never understood why a woman can't figure out how to stand up for herself." His face was clouded over, obviously unhappy with me. 

"There are a variety of reasons why a woman may feel trapped or like she can't stand up for herself," I said, not understanding how he could see things that way. "For example, if she's been bullied before, she may be too scared of the consequences of telling someone about her partner. Some women have also died trying to stand up for themselves, which is a powerful reason for many women to not try it themselves. Can you imagine being scared of being killed by your partner in your own home because he or she can't control their anger and they take out everything on you?"

He glared at me for a long moment. "Let's agree to disagree," he said before knocking back the rest of his liquor. "I don't take out my anger on the missus, and I don't know anyone who does. I don't keep company with people who don't understand the concept of acting like a human."

"Good to know," I muttered under my breath, glad he was ending the subject. I really didn't want to argue with my potential future father-in-law.

---

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