thirty-eight ~ currents
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"She said what?" Brent asked, disbelief hanging off every syllable.
I smiled into his chest from where I lay snuggled up beside him, one of my legs draped over his in post-coital bliss.
"I'm not repeating it," I told him. "You heard exactly what I said."
Brent sighed and I closed my eyes, letting my fingers trail absentmindedly over his pecs-well, perhaps not totally absentmindedly; they were enjoyable to touch.
"Why would she want me to come to dinner?" he then asked.
I giggled, his chest muffling the sound. "She wants to make you squirm under her interrogation."
Obviously not impressed with my teasing, Brent flipped me onto my back, his hands swiftly locking onto mine as he pinned me down. Knowing I was now powerless, unable to possibly match his strength in any shape or form, I resorted to more verbal ways of staying on top.
"Ready to go again?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. "I am impressed. Usually it takes you much longer."
His eyes narrowed dangerously and I fought to keep the calm smile on my face, even though my throat was constricting in anticipation.
"You'd better count yourself lucky that I'm not ready to go again," he said, his voice low. "Otherwise I'd make you regret that comment."
"Did you deliberately wait until after we'd had sex to bring up your mom inviting me to dinner?" he asked, raising an inquisitive eyebrow.
I tried to control the smile threatening to appear on my mouth. "I thought you'd be more placid. Silly me."
He released me and slid off, moving to lie on his side, propped up by his elbow. "I don't understand. She hates me."
I rolled my eyes. "She doesn't hate you, Brent. She'd have to know you for that."
"Is that why she's invited me? So that she can get to know me and then have a reason for hating me?"
I chuckled. "No. You see, at the beginning of summer, I tried this new thing where I went to this weird town and spent three months away from my normal life. Now my mother is trying this new thing where she trusts me to make my own decisions on who is good for me and who's not." I paused. "Plus I think she feels guilty about the way she treated you out there."
He remained silent for a while, staring off across the room. As per usual, I didn't have a clue what he was thinking about.
"So..." I drew out, when he still didn't speak. "Are you allergic to anything?"
There was never any doubt regarding whether Brent would come to dinner or not. However, with his flight home being in just a couple of days, he did joke that it wouldn't be long until he could flee the country if it went badly.
"Can I just reiterate," I said to Mum as I watched her tending the pans on the hob, "that Brent and I aren't together?"
"I know that."