Not all Blondes do Backflips

25 - Tell Me What You See

Paul gave me a wordless, angry hiss.

“Calm down,” I laughed. “I promise there won't be any strip searches, okay?” I paused. “There will, however, be some making out.”

Paul covered his ears.

I smiled wider at him when we reached the last of the stairs. “There may be more than some making out, matter of fact.”

He groaned.

My entire family – pets included – plus Finn turned to look at the inhuman sound of pain he was making.

Finn was the only one who looked genuinely worried about Paul's stricken expression. Everyone else just gave me a reproachful glare.

I registered the fact that Finn, too, looked like a good mix of fancy and casual cool in a forest green Henley shirt, dark jeans and sneakers. But before I could even say hi to my date, Paul decided he wasn't done being the center of attention just yet.

“She keeps trying to kill me!” Paul tattled, running straight for Mom.

“No, I don't!” I half-lied.

“She does,” Paul insisted. “She's going to give me a heart attack with all of the things she says –”

“You were the one who wanted me to strip search you –”

“Stop!” Dad yelled immediately, silencing our childish give-and-take. “I do not want to know where this conversation is headed.”

Mom nodded as she patted Paul's hand comfortingly. “New family rule: No offering to strip search or get strip searched by anyone else in this household, understood?”

Dad gave her a disappointed pout. “Really?”

“Eew! Dad, gross!” George yelled for all three of us.

This was worse – way worse – than thinking our parents did the nasty.

Somebody call me a doctor – I think my brain just fried itself in my skull.

“That is definitely the worst thing I've had to imagine today.” Paul turned to me. “If you can keep that image out of your head, you can kiss Finn all you want, Lenny-kins.”

I lunged for Paul but Finn grabbed a hold of me before I could twist my brother's neck. “Maybe we should be heading out,” he suggested to the room in general.

“That,” Dad said with a strained smile, “would be a good idea.”

Finn relaxed his arm around my waist and moved it to the small of my back. “You good to go?”

I nodded. “What time do you guys want me back?” I asked my parents.

George's eyebrow shot up. “Are you asking for a curfew?”

“Eight,” Paul declared, easily dismissing his surprise with overprotective numbskullity. “Be back here by eight.”

Dad shushed him. “Ten is fine.”

“I'll have her back by ten, Mr. Simms.”

“You can even make it ten-thirty, Finn. We wouldn't want to cut short whatever you've got planned for tonight,” Mom told him with a smile. “Just be sure to tell us so we don't worry. Okay, sweetheart?” she looked at me encouragingly.

I grumbled a yes then took the hand Finn had on my back and led the way out of the house.

Finn slowed his steps when we were finally alone and I matched his strides with my own. “Is your family like that all the time?”