• • •

I hate my boss. It's all I can think as I eat breakfast on Friday morning, sulking over my cereal. It's not a new revelation, but it's ringing louder in my ears today. Last week, I asked to either switch shifts or finish early today, just so Liam and I could leave after class, but Rich said no.

Apparently, we take advantage of him and walk all over him, like it makes any difference to him whether it's Georgie or me behind the checkout. I wasn't asking for much. I even explained the situation to him, that Liam and I planned to drive down to Cincinnati after class, but he didn't care. I tried to switch with Georgie anyway, but he found out and threatened to fire both of us for undermining his authority.

So now I have to work until closing tonight. I can't leave the bookstore until a quarter after ten, and it's a three hour drive to Liam's house. I tried bargaining with Rich, then flat out arguing, but it became pretty clear that I was about to be fired, so I dropped it and told Liam to go alone.

He said no. He wants me there. He wants me to meet his mom, and whichever siblings are there. The fewer the better. I'm already nervous enough. When my anger at Rich subsides, even for a moment, sickening nerves creep into my stomach instead. It's an effort to eat breakfast when it's early and my brain keeps hopping between rage and anxiety.

"Are you ok, bogárkám?" Mom asks, shooting me a worried glance over the top of her glasses, a slice of toast poised halfway to her mouth. I give her a tight smile and nod.

"Yeah, fine," I say, and a yawn bubbles up out of nowhere. "Just tired."

Her expression melts into a soft smile. "I bet. You work so hard." She puts her hand on my arm, her thumb rubbing my skin and pushing dark hairs in the wrong direction. I don't know who decided that arm hair is no big deal yet leg hair is somehow the devil, but my arms are hairy and my legs are smooth.

"Got any plans for the weekend?" Tad asks as he brings over a pan of freshly scrambled eggs, serving a spoonful onto Mom's remaining piece of toast. He proffers them to me and when I smile, he tips a portion onto my plate. Tad's scrambled eggs are to die for. The way Gray shovels them into his mouth, you'd have thought he would die without them.

I don't know what to say, but it doesn't seem to matter when Tad sits down next to Mom and kisses her cheek, looking at her like she's an angel.

"Ready?" he asks. Right after breakfast, they're driving up to some secluded cabin on Lake Huron and they won't be back until Sunday night. Mom's been buzzing about it all week, a permanent grin on her face. It's so refreshing to see, but it makes me feel even worse that she's totally in the dark about Liam.

I could tell her right now. I could just blurt it out. Drop a bombshell right before she leaves. Tell her that I'm dating a guy. A frat guy. A really cute, wonderful frat guy who makes me feel incredible.

But I don't. I watch her and Tad and I glance at Gray, who smiles back, and I focus on my eggs. I don't want to hurt her. Whenever I tell her about Liam, she'll be upset that I didn't tell her sooner, so it might as well wait until after she has a weekend away.

She needs this weekend. She more than deserves it.

"We'll head off by nine, I reckon," Tad says, checking his watch. "I can't wait to get there."

"Me neither," Mom says, leaning against him just slightly. "I'm so excited to go away for a few days." She meets my eye and sits up. "Not that I won't miss you two, of course. It'll be weird being away from you."

It's going to be really weird. I've never been away from Mom for more than a day. The night Gray and I went to the party was the longest we'd been apart, and I didn't even stay overnight. It's kind of tragic that I've never been on a sleepover, not even when I was a kid, though I don't get it. I wasn't the kind of kid to enjoy that. I'm still not.

"You won't miss us," I say. "You're going to have an awesome time."

"I think we can manage a couple of days without parental supervision," Gray says with a chuckle. He uses a corner of bread to mop up his plate and folds it into his mouth.

"I'd have thought so. No wild parties, ok?" Tad's voice is light; he's joking. Like we'd ever have a wild party. But then he asks, "So, what're your plans for the weekend?"

I'm not a liar. Neither is Gray. We just banked on our parents assuming we'd be doing what we do every other weekend: we read; we sunbathe; we lounge in the lake. Mom's been so preoccupied with her trip that she hasn't asked what I'm up to, but now the question has been put out there and if Gray says anything but the truth now, it'll be painfully obvious.

"Uh, I'm actually gonna spend the weekend with Nav," he says. His cheeks colour ever so slightly, the faintest hint of pink. Mom and Tad already know about him and Navya. It's not like he could keep quiet once they started dating, even less so when they made it official. He's constantly gushing about her. If he was anyone else, it'd be irritating, but he's Gray. It's adorable.

"You are?" Tad asks. Mom tilts her head to the side like a curious spaniel, her eyes shifting from Gray to me. Her eyebrows quiz me without a word.

"Both of you?" she asks, and there's no comfortable way out of this without coming clean. Telling her what I'm doing this weekend means telling her about Liam. I wasn't going to, not yet, but my hand has been forced.

I scoop another forkful of eggy toast into my mouth, delaying my answer for a moment, then I shake my head. Swallow. Hard. "I..."

This is harder than I thought. It's not like I'm hiding my dating situation, but it's not easy to admit that I've been with Liam for almost two months.

"I'm actually going to Cincinnati this weekend," I say at last, following the words with a swig of orange juice. Mom's eyebrows jump up; it's Tad's turn to do the curious head tilt. Even their actions mimic each other. They're perfect together.

"You're going to Cincinnati?" she asks, suddenly looking worried. "What're you doing in Cincinnati? Are you going on your own?"

Damn it. I really should've spoken up sooner. I shake my head again. "I'm, uh, kind of going with my boyfriend."

Silence falls. Just for a moment. Gray shoots me an apologetic look. It's not his fault. If I really didn't want Mom to know, I could lie. But I don't lie to Mom. I've never lied to Mom. Not about anything this big. Hardly even about anything small.

"Your boyfriend?" Her jaw drops, eyes wide. "You have a boyfriend?"

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you," I say. I hate that I feel so guilty, my brain going into overdrive. As per usual. "It's just, you know, with everything going on ... I don't know. I just, I'm sorry."

"It's ok, honey," Mom says, picking her jaw up and transforming her face into a brilliant smile. "I just had no idea. You're dating someone? Who? Since when?"

I tell her everything.

Ok, not everything. She doesn't need to know exactly how Liam and I met. I give her a heavily edited version of events. No lie, just a bit of careful tweaking. She'd freak out if I told her what happened with Davis. She'd be devastated on my behalf, and I love how much she cares, but I've dealt with it. Maybe it would've been easier at the time if I'd told her back then, but I don't want to drag it up now.

She wants to know everything from Liam's full name (she's stunned when I tell her, middle names included) to his age and major (twenty; business); she quizzes me on every detail about his siblings (there are five more; I can't tell her much more than that) and his parents (limited knowledge, I admit). I don't hold back anything aside from that initial meeting.

As she throws out questions that I catch and throw back, she hangs off my every word, leaning across the table with her hands clutching mine. It must look like we're performing some sort of prayer or séance. Gray's still eating next to me but Tad gives us space, gathering up Mom's and his stuff for the next few days.

"I'm so happy for you, honey," Mom says, her eyes shining when she eventually exhausts herself of questions after more than a quarter of an hour. It may not sound long, but it's a long time to be quizzed about my first ever relationship. "As long as he is good to you and you like him, I'm happy."

She didn't ask, but I know she wants to know if we've slept together yet. I can hear it in the subtext of half her questions.

"I love him," I say. I've lost count of how many times I've said that word to Liam. I love him. He knows it. He loves me. I know it. "He's good to me, Mom. He's really good. We're taking things slow. He's very respectful."

That should answer her unasked question. Her smile widens and she squeezes my arm a little tighter, and she looks like she's going to cry when I tell her how Liam makes me feel beautiful, how I love just hanging out and chatting with him about everything and nothing. I even get a little teary, but I blame PMS.

The unexpected question and answer session means Mom and Tad are a bit late setting off. She hugs me extra tight outside Tad's car, her cheek pressed against the top of my head and her hands warm on my back.

"Be safe, bogárkám," she murmurs.

"I always am, Mom."

"I know." She pulls away and smiles. "I trust you, honey, and I hope you have a wonderful weekend with Liam."

"Thanks, Mom."

"So," she says, drawing out the syllable and plucking a few stray hairs off my dress. She smooths down the material over my shoulder and smiles, then tucks my hair behind my ear like I'm a kid. "So," she says again, "if you're meeting Liam's mom this weekend, maybe I can meet him soon? I'd like to meet him."

"Yeah," I say. "That'd be nice. Maybe over the Thanksgiving break?" We get a whole week off for Thanksgiving. I can't wait.

"I'd really like that, honey."

"Me too," I say. I know I don't need to worry about bringing Liam home. He's a charmer. He can charm Mom. He always seems to know what to say. God knows why he didn't know how to just say hello to me. "We'll talk more when you're back."

She straightens her back, tall and elegant in cutoffs and a flowing shirt. She's looking really good. Even just over a week on her new meds has made a world of difference. I feel like I've got my old mom back.

"Of course," she says. "Have a wonderful time, bogárkám."

"You too, Mom. Don't go too crazy."

She laughs. I love the sound of her laugh. "I don't think we'll go crazy, honey. I'll see you on Sunday." She hugs me again and kisses my cheek. Tad hugs me too, and he slips a fifty into my hand. He's in the car before I can protest, waving and driving off.

"You look like you saw a ghost," Gray says when our parents are gone. I show him the cash.

"Your dad gave me a fifty."

He laughs. "He must condone semi-secret weekends with your semi-secret boyfriend," he says.

"I can't take fifty bucks!"

"You're not taking it; he's giving it to you," he says, rolling his eyes at me. "He's gonna be your stepdad someday. He's gotta buy your affection, right?"

"Seriously?"

"How serious do you think I am? On a scale of ... one to eleven?"

"Eleven."

"Wrong. It's more like negative twelve."

"That's outside the limits of the scale."

He grins. "Exactly. I was kidding. Dad probably just wants you to have fun. Let your hair down. Enjoy yourself with Liam without worrying."

"He didn't give you any cash."

"He's been giving me cash for nineteen years," Gray points out, "and I'm kind of living off the bank of Mom anyway."

He always sounds kind of embarrassed when he says things like that, but it's no secret that he has more money than me, and it's no big deal. It's not like it's his fault that his mom would rather send him money than see him. I don't care. And it's not like I don't benefit. No matter how much I protest, Gray always pays when we grab a drink or a meal. It's not even a pity thing. He's just crazy generous. His dad is too.

"Look," he says, pushing my hand towards my pocket, "you're gonna have an awesome weekend with Liam, ok?" His eyes are fixed on me, like he's waiting for me to agree.

"Yeah," I say. "And you're gonna have an awesome weekend with Nav."

He grins. "Exactly."

It all worked out pretty perfectly. I was stressing about abandoning Gray without a ride for the weekend, but it turned out Navya's parents and the triplets are going to see family this weekend, so Navya has the house to herself. Gray and I were in the supermarket when he told me, so I slipped a pack of condoms into the cart. When we got to the checkout, it turned out he'd done the same for me.

They're in my bag now. I don't plan for anything to happen, especially not with Liam's family around, but I'd rather not be caught out, and there's no way I'll trust whatever chafed thing he probably carries in his wallet.

• • •

The drive drags. Class drags. Our next class drags. Even lunch drags, lounging around counting down the minutes until the third class of the day. I didn't even have a chance to see Liam in the ten-minute break that I had to race from one end of campus to the other for work, stuffing myself into my uniform.

After nearly two months of college life – or rather, constant Starbucks with Gray and cake with Liam – the already-tight t-shirt squeezed even tighter when I tugged it on at the start of my shift. I didn't even have time for a crisis about putting on weight. I just ransacked the stock room and when I found a dusty XXXL at the back of a shelf, I threw away my agonizing XL and rejoiced in having space to breathe.

It's not a good look, the slightly baggy t-shirt making me look even bigger than I already am, but I'm done caring. I'd rather look like a tent than have the material cling to every roll and show up the slightest sweat stain, and it's a dream not to feel constricted for the entirety of my five-hour shift.

Liam doesn't seem to care when he rocks up at exactly ten fifteen, right after Navya and Gray have left hand-in-hand, and he pulls me in for a kiss. I'm tired and my hair's a mess and my deodorant needs refreshing, but he still manages to make me feel beautiful when he holds me like that, and for a second my fears disappear.

"Hey, Storie," he murmurs when he pulls away. There's something so sexy about hearing him say my name.

"I missed you," I say, when I mean to say hello. He smiles and kisses my forehead.

"I missed you too. Are you ready?"

I look down at myself. I should probably change. This outfit is hardly flattering, the oversized t-shirt hanging limply to my butt over my leggings. Black on black, and black shoes. But it's late and I'm comfortable.

"Yeah," I say with a sigh. I hope he doesn't mind if I sleep on the way. I hardly get the chance anymore, but being a passenger always seems to make me so tired, even more than I already am. I just want to get in the car and fall asleep, but I can't help the panic that we'll arrive and his mom will be awake and waiting for us.

"I just need to change," I say. Liam gives me a funny look.

"You know we're just gonna be sitting in the car for at least three hours, right? It's gonna be after one before we get there. You don't need to change. Unless you're uncomfortable."

"I'm really comfortable."

He grins. "So let's go," he says, slipping his hand into mine and squeezing it. "You ok?" he asks when we're outside, a cool night breeze rippling through my hair.

"Nervous."

"Well, there's nothing to fear tonight," he says. "Mom'll already be asleep. Everyone will be. No pressure." He bumps against me and smiles. "It's just us tonight."

• • •

I can't sleep. We've been on the road for nearly three hours already. It's just gone one, but I'm wide awake. It's not even my ridiculous fear keeping me awake. I think it's just the adrenaline of being up so late, of being with Liam, of being somewhere I've never been before.

When we hit a red light, Liam drops his right hand from the wheel to my knee, his fingers feeling around until he finds my hand and holds it. He's a good driver. Better than I expected. I figured that as soon as we hit the open road, he'd be a speed freak, but he only breaks the limit a handful of times to overtake on the highway.

He runs his thumb over my hand, my breath hitching on his intoxicating smile when I catch a flash of it before we start moving again.

"Love you," he murmurs, his voice only just higher than the quiet playlist that I've been adding to every now and then. There's something strangely intimate about sharing music, and I get a thrill every time he checks out the title of a track I chose, a swell of pride when he tells me to add it to his list.

"Love you too," I say. The words are natural now.

"Thanks for coming with me," he says. "I'm really glad you came."

"Me too. Well, I'm glad you asked me. The weekend could go downhill from here," I say, which makes him chuckle for some reason, and he shakes his head at me.

"It won't," he says. "Mom's going to love you. So will Daria. The boys probably won't even notice you're there, to be honest."

"That's fine by me," I say with a smile. I smooth down my top and glance out of the window. We're off the highway now, driving down quiet town roads on the outskirts of Cincinnati. "How long until we're there?"

Liam glances at the road signs and the clock and purses his lips. "Ten? Maybe quarter of an hour."

It's exactly ten minutes later that he comes almost to a stop on what seems like a deserted country road and turns down a dark driveway, his headlights illuminating a mansion hidden by the trees.

"Holy crap."

"We're here," Liam says. "Casa Alexander. Alexandrov if Dad's home, but..." He peers at the cars. "He's not."

"This is where you live? It's huge!" I can't help but gawp at the crazy house, which might as well have turrets. Liam lets out an awkward laugh. I don't want to embarrass him with my gushing, so I let out a final wow and tell myself to shut up.

"Home sweet home," he says, silence surrounding us when he kills the engine. He shoulders my bag and takes my hand and I pick my jaw up off the floor to follow him into the silent house. It feels like a palace or a castle, but it's a different story on the inside.

Behind the front door, it's instantly clear that a family lives here. There are shoes everywhere, in every size and colour, from tiny toddler sandals and sensible heels to sneakers and soccer studs, and everything in between. Mail and magazines are stacked in precarious piles; a mountain of coats bulge out from a series of hooks on the walls.

Liam nods at the stairs and I follow him up after shedding my shoes, my footsteps silenced by the thick carpet. This place is at least three floors with high ceilings, and it may be the dark but it feels like he's leading me down a maze. We pass an open door, a faint light pouring out, and I peer in to see two sleeping lumps, one snoring and the other a tiny ball.

"Mom's room," Liam says. "And Daria's, when Dad's away."

This is real. This is really his house, his family.