Two Weeks to Fall in Love

22. Two Weeks to Have the Talk

Oh God. Once more started speaking as if she walked out of a historical novel, I knew it was time to wrap things up. Otherwise, if she got too into it, she'd rope me into some rendition of a Shakespear play.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry. I'll tell you what you want to know, I promise, just enough of the theatrics," I relented, raising my hands in defeat.

The change was instant, her face morphing from a sorrowful gaze into one of clear mischief and curiosity.

"You promised," she sung, happy with her little victory.

"You really need an Oscar. And not the plastic one I got you for your birthday," I muttered, in protest and mom giggled.

"Why thank you, thank you," she said, and bowed her head two times before straightening and leaning closer toward me. "Now tell me everything."

"I mean... there's not much to tell."

Mom clicked her tongue impatiently and started tapping her manicured fingers against the table again.

"Where did you meet?"

"Uh, school?" Duh.

"Is he in your classes?"

"Some of them, yes."

"Is he the old friend you started talking to recently?"

"Uh, yes and no."

Raised eyebrow. Further explanation necessary.

"I started talking to an old friend recently so I used him as an excuse that day. Cause... dad."

"Mhmm," mom mumbled knowingly. She knew how protective dad would get. "Did he ask you out?"

"Uhh... no. I, um, kinda asked him out." I blurted this out as quickly as I could. The little gasp Mom let out made it clear she'd heard me crystal regardless of that.

"You asked him out? What did you do to my Skyler?" She asked, in mock horror and I snorted, rolling my eyes. And then she tried to seem overly casual while adding, "You have to like him then or something, right?"

Or something. I'd asked him out with such negative emotions attached that I felt a wave of shame wash over me.

"I don't know. He was... interesting." Not a lie. Not the truth either. I took a sip of water, my throat getting uncomfortably dry.

"Are you using protection?"

The water came flying out of my mouth and across the entire table. "Using what?"

"Protection," Mom said, staring at me in confusion. "For sex." And then added, for extra clarification.

Heat surged to my cheeks. "Mom! Sex?! What?!" I stumbled over words, my voice sounding alarmingly close to a squeaky toy a dog would chew on.

"Oh, you're almost eighteen and a senior, I'm not going to pretend like you're not going to have sex with your boyfriend. I'm not your dad." She waved her hand in the air, a mischievous smirk on her lips. "Just make sure you use protection. It's not just for pregnancy, it's for STDs as well, and–"

"Mom, please stop, we will not be having the sex," I mumbled, closing my eyes and wishing this conversation could erase from my head.

"Definitely don't let him pressure you, darling. It's fine to wait, if that's what you want. Just trust your own feeling about it," she said, and I exhaled, hoping this meant we were done with the topic. I was wrong. So very wrong. "I had sex my first year of college, and wow, that was like an awakening, but honestly until I met your dad I didn't really–"