“Hi, Amber,” Mom said. “You’re coming over for dinner on Sunday, right?”
“I’ll be there, don’t worry.”
“What are you doing tonight?”
Well, obviously Amber wasn’t going to tell the truth about that. “Oh, not much. Just staying home and tidying up. Watching TV.”
“Staying home on a Friday? That doesn’t sound like you.”
It wasn’t super unusual for Amber to be home on Friday night, even if her family assumed otherwise.
She sneezed as she dusted the small table in the corner of the living room.
“Are you sick?” Mom asked.
“Uh, yeah.” Amber hoped that would put an end to any questions about her Friday night plans.
But saying she was sick only led to other questions, of course.
“What are your symptoms?” Mom demanded. “Do you need to talk to your father? He’s the pharmacist, after all. Actually, I have some chicken soup in the freezer. Why don’t I bring it over right now—”
“Mom, that’s really not necessary.”
It was unlikely her mother heard, however, as there was some banging on the other end of the phone, and a moment later, she heard a different voice.
Ugh, it was one of those days when she had to talk to every member of her family. Her paternal grandparents were at her parents’ place all the time.
“You are sick?” Ah Ma asked. “Did you go to bed with your hair wet?”
“No, Ah Ma.”
“Hmm, you don’t sound sick to me.”
Now that Amber had said she was sick, she couldn’t admit she was lying. She let out a weak cough and made her voice a little fainter. “It’s not too bad. I’m sure I’ll be fine by Sunday.”
Dammit, Sebastian would be here any moment. She needed to get off the phone.
“Hi, Amber.” That was her dad. “Sorry you’re feeling under the weather.”
“Thanks.” She managed a fake sniffle.
“Make sure you get lots of rest.”
“I know.”
“And don’t listen to anything your grandmother says about wet hair. It’s bullshit.”
Amber wasn’t surprised to hear yelling in the background.
Her mom came back on a minute later. “Are you sure you don’t want me to bring soup?”
“Positive. I can order soup here if I need some.”
“But it’s not the same as your mother’s chicken noodle soup.”
“Of course not, but it’s an hour drive. It’s not necessary, and I’m really not that sick.”
“You sound pretty sick to me.”
What? Her grandmother had said just the opposite two minutes ago. Maybe Amber was playing it up a bit too much now.
She glanced at the clock. “I need to get going. I have, uh, something on the stove.”
“Of course. I’ll call you in an hour to see how you’re doing.”
“Mom!”
“Just kidding. Go to bed early and have a good night’s sleep. Talk to you tomorrow. Oh, wait. Your grandfather wants to talk to you.”
“I—”
“Hi, Amber,” Ah Yeh said. “I hope you feel better soon. I just sent you an email with some books about Shakespeare that I thought might interest you.”
“Okay, thank you, Ah Yeh. I’ll look at them tomorrow.” She let out a weird-sounding fake cough. “See you on Sunday.”
And finally, she was off the phone.
Thank God.
* * *
Sebastian arrived a few minutes later, and this time, there were no awkward hellos. This time, Amber threw herself at him the instant he walked through the door, and he responded by growling and kissing her back...then lifting her up and carrying her straight to the bedroom, where, after lots of foreplay and lube, he slid into her from behind without any problems and fucked her hard until they both cried out.
It was unfair, really, that he got to be Mr. Perfect Son and be so good at sex.
Afterward, she snuggled up to him again, relishing the luxury of having a man in her bed. Sebastian was about five-ten, and solid. Not solid muscle, no, but she loved his strength.
“The other day,” she said, “I was masturbating, and I thought of you the whole time.”
His eyes darkened. “Did you use your toys?”
She nodded.
“Good girl.” He paused. “Do you like when I say that? If not, I won’t do it again.”
“I like it.” It reminded her of the fact that she was younger than him, that he’d known her when she was just a girl—and that seemed delightfully wrong.
But it’s not wrong now, she told herself.
“I considered sexting you,” she said.
“Yeah?” The corner of his mouth quirked up. His smiles were often lopsided, and for some reason, she liked that.
“But I didn’t know if you’d be into it.”
“I’d be into it.” His voice was rough.
“Ooh, you know what would be fun? We could have a code word that either of us can use when we want to sext. Then the other person can reply yes or no, if it’s not a good time.”
“Bubble tea,” he suggested.
“No, that’s confusing because you might actually want bubble tea one day. Unless you hate it.”
“Of course not. I miss it, actually. It’s one of the things I miss about being in the Vancouver area, where I could get any Asian food or drink I wanted.”
“But you came back.”
“I came back.”
His arm was around her, and he was absently—or perhaps not-so-absently—running his hand over her side.
“You didn’t want to live in Ashton Corners, though?” she asked.
That was his hometown, fifteen minutes from Mosquito Bay.
“Ha,” he said. “Have you met my parents?”
“You think they’d be surprising you with visits every day?”
“Absolutely.”
She could imagine it, yeah.
“You wanted to be close but not too close,” she said.
“Exactly.”
“That’s what I wanted, too. Close enough that I can easily visit, but far enough that I won’t run into them at the pharmacy when I’m reaching for a box of condoms. Far enough that they won’t barge in with chicken soup the instant they learn I’m sick.” She paused. “My mom called right before you came. She was surprised I wasn’t going out tonight, and since I didn’t want tell her about my plans with you, I said I wasn’t feeling well. And then Dad, Ah Ma, and Ah Yeh all insisted on talking to me.”
Sebastian laughed. “My parents bought the
