“Shiloh Marie Parker, it is already 6:45. If you don’t crawl your little ass out of that bed in the next five minutes, I will not have time to take you to school, and you’ll have to ride the bus,” Mom says as she swings my door open wide. Geez, Mom, what if I was standing here naked? Who are we kidding? She knows that I’m not getting up before I have to.
“Ugh, fine.” I groan as I throw my covers off and sit up. I have to give myself a moment for my eyes to adjust to reality. I’m sure I’m quite the sight. I was too lazy to wrap my long curly red hair last night, so it’s probably everywhere. “You know we wouldn’t have this problem if you guys bought me a car,” I say back to Mom, who is already walking down the hall.
“And who would pay for the gas, your five hundred followers?” Mom asks sarcastically.
“You know when I make it and am a famous influencer, you’re gonna eat those words,” I yell.
“Well, you’re not a Kardashian yet, so get in the shower. You have an hour.” She calls back. I can’t help but laugh.
I grab my phone and check my notifications. Only a thousand likes on my last photo, lame. Oh. Kyle texted. “Good morning, gorgeous. We just got a new colt, wanna come by after school and check it out?”
I smile widely. “Hell yes.” I type back. I’m obsessed with horses, like absolutely one hundred percent obsessed, and he knows it. It’s West Texas; there’s really only three things to do: go to football games, get drunk at a bonfire, and ride horses. Football season is only a few months; bonfires can get raided, but horses are eternal.
I’ve been riding horses every chance I could since I was big enough to get my leg across a pony. When I turned thirteen, my parents surprised me with my own horse, Alabaster, so I could train and compete in the youth barrel racing circuit. That’s how I first met Kyle; his parents own the farm where we stable Alabaster.
I always thought he was cute, but at first, I had zero interest in him, but once I got to know him, we became friends. Then one day he confessed he liked me, and I was single at the time, so I just was like, ‘Sure, we can go out.’ We’ve been dating for almost a year now.
He’s a great boyfriend, really sweet and kind, and really does love me. I just wish I felt the same way. I tried, but I have a specific type, and he’s really not it. Which makes me sad in a way. He deserves to be loved by someone devoted to him, not to be with someone who is staying with him out of a sense of duty and has already cheated on him multiple times.
Hate me if you want; I like boys, especially cowboys. The way they look, all rugged and manly; the way they dress; how their hats cover their eyes; the way they smell and taste; this mix of sweat, leather, dust, and that one body spray they all seem to wear. Shit drives me wild.
Though Kyle is the only boy I’ve actually had sex with, but I’m not so innocent. I’ve gone down on quite a few guys, almost all of them cowboys, one baseball player, but I don’t like to talk about that. I’ve done it in stables, horse trailers, cabs of pickups, and, hell, even by the dumpster behind the concession stand. Really not an ideal place to involve yourself in an action that requires nose breathing, FYI. I’ve basically done it everywhere except a bedroom, well, except with Kyle; I’ve sucked his dick in his bed a few times.
I’m not sure how my parents would react if they knew how I really am. I’m pretty sure they’d sell Alabaster and make me quit the circuit. I know for certain that Kyle’s parents, who sponsor my racing, would drop me in a heartbeat. Poor Kyle, I’m certain he would kill himself. Gosh, I need him to just go ahead and fall out of love with me.
Because I didn’t wrap my hair, it took me way too long to get ready. I ended up having to choose between doing my make-up in the car or eating, and since I didn’t want to rock dripping egg yolk on my cutest flannel, I opted to eat at home.
“I thought you were gonna wear that little white dress we bought over the weekend today,” Mom says.
“I was, but Kyle texted,” I begin while applying my eyeliner, “they just got a new colt, and I’m going over to see it. Figured I’d ride Alabaster while I was there, so I needed to wear jeans.” She sighs.
“But did the jeans have to be that tight?” She asks. I stop and give her a side eye. “What? I’m your mother. And those jeans are super tight. I don’t even know how you get into them.”
“It’s not hard. And they’re not tighter than leggings; besides, I need them tight. It helps me grip the saddle.”
“Okay, but those boots, those aren’t really riding boots.” She says about my cute pink cowboy boots.
“They’ll work fine,” I say.
“Okay, but what about the shirt? That’s a really nice and really cute top. What if you fall off or get it dirty or ripped?” She says.
“I have a tank top on underneath. “That’s what I plan to wear when riding,” I say. I stop applying makeup. “Mom, what is this about?”
“I don’t like it.”
“Don’t like what?”
“How you are now. How you always have to impress Kyle or dress up for him. You were so excited about that dress Saturday,” she says, “and he texts, and poof, excitement gone.”
“I’m still excited about the dress, but I’m more excited to see Alabaster, my baby. It’s been a few weeks since I’ve ridden him. That’s why I’m wearing jeans, like I said. I don’t want to go home first and change, and still want to look cute all day. Trust me, absolutely nothing I have on is for Kyle.” I say to reassure her.
“Well, I still don’t like it. I don’t like how much influence he has over you.” She says. “How you have to plan your life around dates with him when it should be the other way around. It worries me a bit.”
“Why?” I ask and immediately regret it because she pulls into a parking lot and stops the car. Luckily, I’m done with my makeup because I know a talk is coming. She pulls into a space, puts the car in park, and turns to face me. I close the mirror and look over at her.
“You would tell me if you were having sex, right?” She asks bluntly.”
“Oh, absolutely not,” I reply.
“What? Why not?”
“A couple of reasons, actually. First, I would have to sit through a long lecture about safe sex and pregnancy, all of which we’ve talked about multiple times, but, likely, this time would include anecdotal stories of your youth that would probably scar me for life.” I say, and we both chuckle. “But, mostly, because the first thing you would do is tell Dad, and then poor Kyle would wake up at three a.m. to a room full of ranch hands and roughnecks.”
In this small town, there’s really only two jobs a man can do: drive cattle or drill for oil. In both cases, you would be working with some scary, hardened dudes, many of which have long criminal records. At one point, my dad has done both jobs, and trust me, his friends are pretty scary guys.
“So, you would lie to me if I asked and you were?” She asks.
“Never. I just refuse to answer so I don’t have to lie, and you don’t have to wonder if I am. You’re just gonna have to trust me that if I were having sex, I would also be doing it carefully.” I reply very matter-of-factly.
“Promise?” She asks. I hold out my hand with my pinky up. “You can’t break a pinky promise.” She adds.
“I know,” I say, and she hooks her finger to mine, then immediately puts the car in drive and starts back towards the school.
“I’m not sure how you ended up so mature and levelheaded.” She says.
“I was raised right and in a very loving home.” I reply with a smile. The rest of the drive is basically in silence, sans the music on the radio.
“Is Kyle giving you a ride home, or do I need to have Dad swing by on his way home?” She asks as we pull into the drop-off line at school.
“I didn’t ask, but I’m sure he will. If not, I’ll just have Angie pick me up.”
“I would prefer the latter. I remember me and Dad and the front of his pickup truck.” She says it intentionally, trying to get under my skin.
“Oh geez, Mom, I didn’t need that visual. If I was planning to have sex today, there’s no way that’s happening now.” I say, and she laughs with a sinister grin. “You know, though, all of that would be easily avoided if you bought me a car.”
“Here we go again.” She says with an eye roll.
“I mean, I do have a birthday coming up. Seventeen, that’s really the perfect birthday to get a car as a gift. Sixteen would have been nice, but way too cliché. You and daddy aren’t cliché like that.” I add with a little grin.
“We bought you a horse.” She replies.
“Like four years ago,” I say.
“Three, and we just finished paying it off.”
“So see? You have the extra money for car payments now. I’m thinking something four-wheel drive, definitely in pink.” I describe.
“Shiloh Marie, if you don’t get out of my car this minute, I swear to God, I am not responsible for my actions.” She says jokingly.
“Okay. Fine. I love you, Mom.” I say, reaching into the back seat for my backpack.
“I love you bunches, baby. Don’t forget dinner is at six.” She says as I open the door.
“Mom, there’s no way. I would only get a few minutes to ride.” I whine. She sighs.
“Okay, fine, I can keep it warm in the oven till seven. After that, you’ll either have to heat it up or eat it cold.”
“Okay. That’s fair.”
“And your school night curfew is nine. Unless you have a lot of homework, then it’s eight.” She adds.
“Yes, ma’am,” I say. She leans up and kisses my cheek.
“Have a great day. And make good choices.” She says.
“Yes, ma’am,” I repeat as I get out of the car.
“Shi, over here,” Angie yells.
They don’t let us in the building before eight thirty; the faculty does their morning meetings, and the students wait out front until they open the doors. My best friend Angie, whose parents got a car when she turned sixteen, by the way, typically gets here before me and finds us a good spot to hang out. Far enough from the building to not seem eager but close enough to get to class on time. It’s also midway between the two bigger cliques of the campus: the jocks and the cowboys. As I walk up, backpack in hand, I begin unbuttoning my shirt.
“Here, hold this,” I say, setting my backpack at my feet and taking off my fleece. “And keep an eye out for Battle Axe McGee; I don’t want to get dress‑coded before I ever get inside.” She grabs my shirt and stands between me and the building.
Vice-principal Patricia McGee, Battle Axe to the students, is the most by-the-book administrator you will ever meet. If you think you can get away with even the smallest infraction while on campus, Battle Axe will show you how wrong you are.
I reach behind my back and unhook my bra, then pull the straps down over my arms and hands, then reach inside my shirt and pull the bra off, putting it in my backpack. I stand up and pull the waist of my pants down onto my hips, then reach in and pull the two thin lace bands of my thong out the top, resting them on top of my hips. I reach out and take my fleece back and put it back on, but don’t button it up. Finally, I reach to my chest and ping my nipples to make them hard.
“I’m really not sure who you are trying to impress; you’ve known most of these boys your whole life. You’ve dated a third of them,” Angie says.
“I’m not exactly trying to impress anyone; it’s for the Iggy,” I begin, and we pose together for a selfie, making sure my thong and hard nips are ‘accidentally’ showing, “though maybe one of these guys would wanna fuck me,” I reply with a grin.
“Please, the only guy you’ll ever fuck is Kyle. For not being in love with that boy, you’re madly devoted.” She says, and my smile brightens.
“I am right? I’m a good girlfriend. Most times,” I say.
“Sometimes.” She corrects, and we laugh.
“Oh, him I would absolutely fuck. Right here, right now.” I say, watching the most gorgeous cowboy I’ve ever seen walk across the grass towards the building.
“Jesus, I think everyone here would. That is one very pretty man.” Angie says staring as well.
“I wonder who he is.”
“McGee’s nephew,” Kyle says as he walks up behind us. “He’s here for the rodeo this weekend.”
“How do you always know things?” Angie asks him.
“I was in the office yesterday when she was showing off his photo.” He replies, then looks at me. “Damn, baby, you look hot.”
“Thanks babe,” I say and give him a quick kiss. “I was hoping you’d think so.
“Okay,” Angie begins, “if you know so much, what’s his name?”
“Garrett Hayes,” Kyle replies.
“That’s Garrett Hayes?” I ask, my eyes following him again as he slowly makes his way to the door.
“You know him?” Angie asks.
“By reputation”, I begin, “he’s a bronco rider. Supposed to be one of the best.”
“Judging by the size of his buckle, I’d say so,” Angie adds.
“Yeah,” I say softly, starting to bite my lip a bit. She notices before Kyle and pinches my arm gently to snap me out of it.
“Well, we will get the chance to see for ourselves Saturday,” Angie states.
“I didn’t think you were racing this one,” Kyle says, shocked.
“I’m not; Angie and I are doing the T-shirt gun. Besides, my rodeo content gets the most views,” I say.
“Gee, I wonder why.” He snorts.
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“Come on, your username is a derivation of ‘buckle bunny’, and you’re always half-dressed. I’ll lay odds those extra views are all horny guys,” Kyle replies.
“What the fuck?” I snap.
“Seriously, Kyle, not cool,” Angie adds.
“What? What did I say?” Kyle asks.
“You basically just called her a slut.” Angie says.
Just then, the bell rings and the doors open. I don’t respond to him. We just start to go inside.
“That’s not what I meant.” He says following us in.
He’s not wrong; my rodeo posts do push the community guidelines, and that’s for a reason. I like the attention. I let him think I was mad until lunchtime, where I fake-begrudgingly accepted his apology and promise to never do it again. He really is a good guy. He really does deserve better than me. Maybe that’s why I really do try so hard to be as good a girlfriend as possible.
Immediately after school, we went to his farm so I could see his new colt and spend time with my baby. It sucks that I’m not racing this weekend, but I had my wisdom teeth removed the day of the trials, so I couldn’t go. I rode just a bit longer than I should have, so I couldn’t hang out with his parents, not if we wanted some alone time. I told them I needed to get home early.
So now, here we are, at the edge of his property; I’m on my back on a blanket in the bed of his truck. My pants and thong are in a ball beside me; my shirt is up around my neck. After a very long and passionate makeout session, Kyle is kissing his way down my body, and I’m about to freak out.
“Wait, are you sure you want to do this?” I ask nervously. I grab his shoulders.
“Baby, I’ve wanted this for so long.” He says and starts kissing my belly. “It’s okay if you’re not ready. We don’t have to.”
“It’s not that. I’m ready, I think.” I pause. He looks up at me.
“What’s wrong?” He asks, genuinely concerned.
Oh Kyle, my dear sweet precious little man, if only you knew the breadth of everything about this that has me crawling out of my skin. For starters, what if he thinks it’s ugly? I don’t know. How could I know? I don’t compare it to others, but maybe he would. He says he likes that I buzz but don’t wax, but what if he’s lying and he gets a close look and is grossed out? Plus, I’m really wet, and it gets all in the bush really bad. And oh god, what if he gets down there and it’s so bad he gags? My life would be over. I would hang myself from a tree, that one right there.
“I’ve just, I was in class all day, and we ran in gym. It’s really hot out, so I was sweating, and then I was riding for like almost two hours, and…” I ramble, but he interrupts me.
“Shhhh.” He says as he moves back up and kisses me, shutting me up. “You’re worried I won’t enjoy it?” He asks. I nod while holding back tears. It’s so much more than worry, my darling boyfriend; it’s sheer panic.
“I’m terrified. ”I eek out.
“I understand. I think I know a solution.”
“What’s that?” I ask, but he doesn’t answer.
Instead, he pushes his middle finger as deep inside me as it will go, causing me to gasp deeply. He swirls it around a bit, then pulls it out, curling it and running the tip along my clit. Then, right there before my very eyes, he puts that same finger deep in his own mouth, sucking in every drop.
I’m mortified; I can’t look. I put my hands over my face so I don’t see what surely must be a disgusted look.
“You taste delicious.” He whispers in my ear, then slides back down my body; he spreads my legs. “And you look so beautiful.” He adds, then I feel his fuzzy, near-moustachioed lips on my labia. He’s kissing it. Oh my god, he’s so…. I can’t get the thought completed before his tongue grazes my swollen clit.
Once again, I gasp hard, arching my back, squeezing his head between my thighs, and gripping his short curly hair with all I’ve got. The feeling is so intense, even more than I’d ever imagined, and trust me, I’ve imagined this moment many times. It takes everything I have not to cry out loud enough for his parents to hear back at the house. Any other time I would feel so bad for Kyle; his head is being pinned between my thighs, thighs that can hold me in place on a full-grown horse in a full gallop, and I’m twisting and writhing in ecstasy, but I don’t feel bad; all I feel is good. A deep, intense good.
I’m so close to having an orgasm, which I so desperately want, but every time I think it’s going to happen, he changes something up, and I go back to the start. I don’t blame him; supposedly, he’s never done this before either. We’re both in deep, uncharted waters. But it’s too intense; I literally feel like my body is going to break.
“I can’t. I can’t take any more.” I say releasing my grip with my thighs, sitting up and pulling his head back. He looks up at me, his whole face glistening in the moonlight, and he has the cutest little grin on his face. I can’t help but blush. “Come here, lie with me,” I say, and he crawls back up, lying on his back beside me. I slide over onto his arm, and we look up at the stars, both panting to catch our breath.
“Was it okay?” He asks after a few seconds, making me laugh out loud.
“Oh my god, babe, it was amazing,” I say back.
“Really? Did you…” he asks. I sigh.
“Very close. Several times,” I say.
“Oh.” He says softly, and I sigh.
“That’s a good thing,” I reply and sit up on my elbow, facing him. “Do you realize how long it takes me to have an orgasm? I’ve only ever even given myself one. I’ve never been that close and not done it. And it wasn’t you; it was me. I am still super self-conscious.”
“Why?”
“I told you why.”
“And I’m telling you it tastes so good.”
“You’re just saying that.”
“I’m not. “I swear,” he says. I lay back down on his arm.
“What do I taste like?” I ask.
“It’s hard to explain.” He replies.
“That’s a nice way of saying bad.” I say and look at my nails.
“Tangy”, he begins, to my utter surprise, “kinda salty, creamier than I expected.” I give a worried look. “Definitely not a bad thing. A little bit musky, but a good musky and slightly sweet. That’s the best I can do.”
“That’s the pineapple,” I say, lying back down on my back, resting my head in his armpit.
“What?”
“The sweetness. I read online that if you eat a lot of pineapple, it’s like does something with your chemicals and makes your fluids sweeter. I’ve been eating a lot of pineapple lately,” I explain.
“Why have you been eating a lot of pineapple?” He asks in a fake accusatory tone.
“Because I really wanted you to enjoy it,” I say. He kisses the top of my head.
“Well, I do.”
“Good, cause I really want to feel like that again,” I say and laugh. “Sorry about crushing your head, by the way.”
“Don’t worry about it. Worth it.” He says. It makes me smile. “Yeah, that’s how I feel when you grab my head and like shove it down my throat. Like, this may choke me to death one day, but if it does, I’ll die a happy girl.” He laughs.
“Yeah, exactly. But now you got me wanting to try this pineapple trick.”
“You can. But I like your taste as it is,” I say.
“I know you do, baby.” He says, kissing my forehead again. “Oh, before I forget, I got your ticket to Friday’s game.”
“Oh shit,” I say, once again sitting up. “I totally forgot about that. I can’t go.”
“Why not? I thought you had already cleared it with your mom.”
“I did”, I begin, “but Angie and I have to pack all the t-shirts and everything on Friday.”
“Can’t you do that earlier? The game starts at seven. I really want you there. Coach says there’s a good chance I’ll be on the field at this one.”
“I can try. I can’t promise anything, but I’m definitely gonna try. I’m not passing up a chance to see your cute little butt in those pants.” I reply with a big grin.
“You know I’ll wear them for you any time you ask, baby girl.”
“I know, but I really want to see you play,” I say.
“You hate football.” He replies.
“But I don’t hate you,” I say and lean down and kiss him, then lick my lips. I start to run my fingers across his chest as I stare off towards the road.
“What are you thinking about?”
“That it isn’t quite fair that you made me feel so good and didn’t get anything in return,” I say.
“Oh yeah? What are you thinking would even things out?”
“Well, you got to go down on me, so…” I begin, purposely not finishing the sentence.
“Baby, if you do that, I’m not gonna be able to control myself. I might just end up fucking the shit out of you right here in this truck.” He replies.
“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” I say as I start to unbutton his jeans.
“I’m sorry I’m not getting you home in time to eat your supper while it was still hot,” Kyle says as he’s driving me home a little less than an hour later.
“I’m not. I’m glad we got to spend the extra time together. I feel like I haven’t gotten to touch you in months.” I say
“Eight days, nine hours and twenty-three minutes.” He replies. I laugh.
“You were counting?”
“Hey, when you’re addicted to something, or someone, you tend to remember when you got your last fix.”
“Well, I’ll try to not be so busy that you have to wait that long again,” I say
“Hey,” he begins, reaching over and taking my hand, “you’re always worth the wait.” He picks my hand up and kisses it.
“You’re so sweet.” I say, then slap my hand and exclaim, “Oh!”
“Jesus, what?”
“No, I forgot to tell you. My mom asked me the question this morning.”
“What question?”
“If you and I were having sex,” I reply.
“Oh shit. What did you say?” He asks.
“The truth. That I wasn’t going to ever answer that because one time I would have to decide whether or not to lie to her, and I don’t want to do that,” I reply.
“And how did she take that?” He asks.
“Way better than my dad would,” I say.
“Jesus, yeah, he scares the fuck out of me.”
“He should.”
“Do you think he suspects?” He asks. My phone buzzes in my pocket.
“Oh absolutely,” I begin as I pull it out to see who texted me, “but he would never ask. He doesn’t want to know. But I thought I should tell you so you wouldn’t be surprised when dinner at my place is suddenly much more awkward. ”I say.
I read the text. It’s Angie asking if I’m home. I reply that he’s driving me home now.
“Duly noted,” Kyle says. Angie sends back an ear and hand emoji.
“It happened.” I text back with a tongue and a peach.
“OMG, call me the second you get home; I want details.” She texts back; I send a thumbs up.
“You want me to get you something from the drive-thru?” Kyle asks.
“Sure, you just need to be the one to explain to my mother why the meatloaf she cooked for me went uneaten,” I reply.
“Okay, yeah, never mind.” He says, and I giggle.
“Do you think your dad would kill me if he knew?” Kyle asks after a few minutes.
“Knew what? That were fucking?” I ask.
“Yeah.”
“Not by himself,” I reply stone-faced.
“You’re really not helping.”
“I’m only partially serious. Likely not; they wouldn’t kill you, but they would hurt you. I’m his baby forever,” I say.
“What if we were married?” He asks. Jesus, that thought never crossed my mind. Is he thinking about marriage? We’re still in high school.
“I would still let him think I was a virgin. If I have a baby one day, I would rather let him believe I birthed the new messiah than risk seeing that face look as sad as he would,” I say honestly.
“That’s kind of sweet in a weird way.” He says.
“Look, I love that man more than anyone on the planet. I would rather die than break his heart.”
“Even more than me?” He asks.
“Absolutely. And if that’s not okay with you, then, well, it’s been great being your girlfriend.” I say back as straightforward as possible.
“Fair enough. I just hope one day, if I have a daughter, she loves me that much.” He says.
“Just be a great dad. That’s all it takes.” I say, just as we pull up in front of my house. I slide across the seat to give him a kiss. “Just be half as good a dad as you are a boyfriend, and you’ll have it.” I whisper against his lips, then kiss him.
“Shi”, he begins in an almost whisper, “you know I…” I pinch his lips together before he says it.
“I’m not ready for that. I’m sorry.” I say. He nods. I let his lips go.
“Sorry.” He says.
“Don’t be. I know it’s eating you alive wanting to say it. Just know that I know you feel it. I just, I’m not ready to say it, and you deserve to hear it back. Okay?” He nods. I kiss him quickly on the lips again and slide out of the truck. “I’ll see you at school tomorrow, baby,” I say and blow him a kiss before running to the front door.
When I get halfway up the driveway, I see the blinds in the living room window snap close. I roll my eyes and laugh to myself. I go up and open the door. I love living in a town small and safe enough that we never lock our front door until we go to bed. A lot of the kids at school all want to move away from here when they turn eighteen. Not me; I wanna grow old in this little dust bowl.
“Hi Daddy,” I say, setting my backpack by the door and walking over to him, sitting on the arm of his chair, and kissing his bearded cheek. Kyle always gets so offended that I keep a toothbrush and mouthwash in my bag and use it immediately after we mess around, but this is why. I just had his dick in my mouth a few minutes ago, and he thinks I’m gonna then come home and kiss my dad without cleaning that mouth first? No sir.
“Hey doodle bug. You’re home kinda late. School bus breakdown or something?” He asks, pretending to be oblivious.
“I know Mama told you I was going over to ride Alabaster after school,” I say.
“Oh yeah, she did mention something about that horse. Is that whose truck I saw out there? The boy who lives over there? What’s his name? Kenny, Kevin?”
“Kyle? My boyfriend of almost a year? The kid who has had dinner here a thousand times?” I ask, playing along.
“Yeah, that guy. I don’t like that guy.”
“Yes, you do. You’ve already admitted it once,” I say.
“I was drunk; that doesn’t count.” He says he is making me laugh. “So long as he’s a boy actively pursuing my little girl… I don’t like him.”
“He’s not pursuing me, Dad. He’s already got me,” I say. He just groans. I stand up and walk towards the kitchen but stop halfway. “Besides, I’m not anymore, you know.”
“Not what?”
“A little girl. “I’m almost eighteen, you know?”
“In like a year.”
“Fifteen months,” I correct. He stands up and walks over to me.
“That’s an eternity, and tomorrow at the same time. Do me a favor, doodle bug, don’t be in such a hurry to grow up. One day you’ll wake up and be old like me.” He kisses my forehead. “And for the record, when I look at you, I still and will always see that little girl in pigtails and a white dress chasing a little foal across the paddock.”
“I know, Daddy. I wish I could be her forever for you.”
“You are baby. You are.” He says and wraps his arm around me. “Now, come on, let’s go get you some supper; you’re practically skin and bone.” We start walking to the kitchen. “And I still don’t like him. But invite him for supper tomorrow. So I can tell him how much I don’t like him.”
“Yes, sir,” I say, laughing.