Under The Sea

Chapter Twelve

I stared at the wall of Thea's room as she tried to explain to me what was for dinner. Aran had rushed down stairs to convince his mom that it was not a good idea for the meet-the-parents dinner. I agreed, it felt too early for me to be meeting his parents, it had only been about two weeks. I feared they would ask too many questions, that I couldn't answer.

"Hey are you even listening? You should probably listen if you don't want to look like a fool at the table." I focused my gaze on Thea to find her glaring at me. Even if I knew what dinner was and how to eat it, I would most likely look like a fool anyway.

"Sorry, what were you saying?" I sighed.

"We are having spaghetti for dinner. Spaghetti is a pasta dish, so it might look weird to you the first time but trust me it's delicious."

"How do you eat it?" I asked keenly aware that the words pasta and spaghetti were completely foreign to me.

"You use a fork, and you wind up the noodles like this," she demonstrated twisting her fingers around as if they were a fork, "noodles might look like worms at first, but their actually just long strips of dough." I nodded, still a little confused.

Suddenly I felt the warmth of annoyance cover me like a blanket. It wrapped around my entire body and filled my head. It wasn't me who felt utterly annoyed, it was Aran. Thea had told me that our bond had been growing stronger and stronger by the day, and now I could feel Aran's emotions when they were intense. Whatever he felt I only knew he was feeling it, I didn't actually feel it myself.

His irritation settled down as his scent grew stronger. And then he was there, leaning against the door frame, arms crossed, emotions flying across his features, like a small swift bird whipping across them.

"My father will be home soon . . . for dinner. I couldn't talk my mom out of it, as you saw before, she was extremely happy to meet you Forest." I smiled encouragingly.

"It's alright, I'm sure it won't be as bad as you make it to be. Your father can't be that horrible." A nervousness rolled around in my stomach, tumbling and tumbling, unstoppable.

Aran sighed loudly, "lets hope," he shook his head, "lets hope."

◆◆◆◆

Aran's father was a very tall and intimidating man. He had broad shoulders and hard features. He was a brute of a man, his face set into a never ending scowl, a scowl that would only soften when he beheld his wife. He was of age, his hair sprinkled with salt and pepper, his wrinkles slight but still known.

As I smiled up at him, he glared down at me, while shaking my hand firmly.

"Dinner is ready!" We heard Mrs. White call from the kitchen. As Thea, Aran, Mr. White, and I shuffled toward the kitchen, I murmured to Aran, "where are the rest of the pack members?"

"Not many live here and most of them keep to themselves during meals unless a dinner or lunch or breakfast is called for." Aran replied. I nodded my head in understanding.

I took my seat at the thick cherry wood table between Aran and Thea. Their parents sat across from us. Our dinner, spaghetti, already sat in front of us. I stared down at the food using all the energy in my body to look unfazed. The noodles sat underneath a pond of bright red sauce, and atop all of that were three big balls of brown mush, meatballs. This was more than new for me, this was from a whole other universe, literally.

"Is something wrong with the food dear?" I looked up to see everyone awaiting my answer, and Mr. White gazing intently, as if waiting for me to make a fool of myself.