"You're my favorite muggle, Dad."
Mom shot me a faux wounded look, but I just held out my hand.
"What?" I said. "Just look at him."
Mom chuckled under her breath. "Okay, I see your point."
Dad eyed the two of us. "I think I've just been insulted."
Mom patted his hand, loading pizza onto both of their plates as Dad grumped. It was kind of funny actually.
"But I'll let it slide since I'm starving, and there's pizza," he said and then proceeded to eat a whole slice in seven seconds flat.
"And because we're you're two favorite girls," I put in.
After swallowing, he smiled. "That you are. I love you both—even when you're being smart alecks. Speaking of which, you excited for school, Viola?"
I shrugged, taking another bite of pizza to stall for time, thinking back to what had happened with Tyson. Ugh. I didn't know which was worse, the fact that I'd confessed at all, that I'd gotten things so wrong…or that he wasn't moving.
Definitely the last part, I thought. My hope for confessing with zero repercussions was suddenly out the window. I just hoped it wouldn't be too weird seeing him in the halls… Ugh.
"Ah come on," Dad went on. "You must be looking forward to seeing your friends again."
"What friends?" I murmured then took a long drink of my water.
Dad's brow furrowed. "Vi, it's your last year of high school. This is a special time. You want to take it all in, enjoy every moment. What about homecoming, prom? I know you have to be excited about something."
I smiled brightly. "I can't wait to see you kick some butt on the soccer field."
"You don't even come to the games." Dad tilted his head. "This is just you trying to change the subject. Don't think I can't see that."
"Yes, but is it working?"
He'd opened his mouth when Mom said, "How is the team doing this year?"
I looked to her, grateful for the assist.
"They’re amazing." Dad sighed. "I think we've got a real shot at the championship. These boys can go head to head with anyone. And Dare Frost? God, I love that kid. He's a natural, and he's got a competitive drive that's unmatched. I've never seen anything like it."
It was the truth. Dare Frost may have been one of the most annoying people on the planet, but I had to admit, if half of what people said was true, he was talented. Crazy talented. My dad and he both understood that competitive spirit, probably why Dad was so smitten with him.
Mom's eyes shined as she smiled at my father. "I have. I've seen talent just like that—and better. That young man and all of those boys are lucky to have you as their coach," she said, which made him blush. Dad rarely got flustered, but Mom could do it to him every time. His expression caused a laugh to escape my lips.
Dad cleared his throat.
"Don't think I've forgotten our discussion, Vi," he said. "I still want you to have an awesome year. Step out of your comfort zone, have fun, make friends. If you'd just open up, I know they'd love you. It's not that hard."
"Not hard for you," I said softly.
"What do you mean?" he said.
"Dad, come on." I scoffed. "You're the Becks Kent. You were popular in high school, a total jock. Everyone loved you."
"Not everyone," he said.
"You were the freaking prom king, for goodness sakes. I've never even been to a school dance."
He blinked. "You haven't?"
I shook my head, gesturing to myself. "Who would ask me?"
"What's that supposed to mean? Viola, you're beautiful, inside and out," Dad said.
Mom nodded then added, "The most beautiful girl in the whole world."
Yeah, right, I thought. I loved my parents. Truly, I did. But those rose-colored glasses they were wearing must've been pretty thick.
"And who says you need anyone to ask you?" Mom said. "You could always go by yourself."
"I could," I said, "but honestly, dancing in public's not my thing. With or without a guy."
"Any guy would be lucky to have you on his arm," Dad insisted. "Now, don't get mad, but maybe if you spent a little less time at the shelter and more time, I don't know, hanging out with your classmates, you'd get a chance to know them. And they'd get to know you."
"I've told you before, Dad. I prefer dogs over people. I mean, think about it: They're kinder than humans. They're more sympathetic. They're great listeners. They give affection without expecting anything in return, and they make life better for everyone. Dogs over people, one hundred percent."
My parents seemed to sigh as one.
In a small voice, Mom said, "But you might find someone you like."
"Doubtful," I said.
"Maybe even a boyfriend," Mom laughed as my dad blanched.
"Now, wait a minute," Dad said. "Who said anything about boyfriends? I'm actually glad she doesn't have one of those. I'd like you to keep it that way, Viola, until you're thirty or so if you can manage it. For my sanity."
"Oh no worries," I said. There hadn't been any guys in the past, and after today's debacle—which was a level of awkward for the record books—I didn't see that changing any time soon.
"You know," Dad said, "your mother wasn't popular in high school. She liked a lot of the same things you do, loved to read. And she had a great senior year."
Mom shrugged. "Yeah…but I had you."
"That you did."
His eyes softened as he looked at her.
"And we were best friends before it turned into anything more," she added.
Dad shook his head. "We were always more."
"You
