“What the fuck, Monica!?” he growls as I scramble off of him. He pulls his boxers and sweatpants on and I slide his t-shirt on over my bare chest. I’m sliding my panties back up my legs when she opens one eye and peeks at us through her hands.

Her eyes are wide and unblinking and no one says anything for several moments. “I…need a drink,” she says as she crosses the room to his bar cart in the corner of the living room.

“What the fuck are you doing here and without knocking, mind you? Do I just walk the fuck into your house in Boston? No, because I don’t fucking live there!” he yells at her as she takes a shot of Jameson and another and another. He spins her around to face him and I can see the look of anger all over his face. “ANSWER ME! What are you doing here?!” His voice is angry and I’m sure it’s in part because he was close to coming when she walked in and started screaming.

“You’re… You…” She points at us. “HOW!? When!? WHY!?”

“One question at a time, Monica.” I wince, trying my best to calm her before she works herself up even more. Her chest is heaving and her cheeks are flushed and if I’m not mistaken, I see a brief trace of sadness in her expression.

“Questions we aren’t answering until you answer mine. What,” he says through gritted teeth, “are you doing here?”

She blinks several times and runs a hand through her hair. “How long has this been going on?”

“Again. My question first.” James demands. “How did you even get a key?”

“I took the spare one from home, James…you and you!” she says looking at me. “You two were so secretive all week. You were practically attached at the hip. Where you went” she says pointing at me, “your eyes followed her. Like you were afraid she was going to disappear.” She lets out a breath and unwraps her scarf from around her neck and tosses it on a nearby chair. “I thought something was going on…”

Were we that obvious? James and I share a look wondering the same thing so I speak up and ask. “Have you discussed this with Mom and Dad? I mean…do you think they have the same theory?”

“No, I don’t think our parents think their children are banging each other.” She rolls her eyes. “How… When did this start?”

“Last week.” I answer. “So, what, you came here to try and catch us or something?”

“I wanted to know what was going on.”

“It wasn’t your business, Monica,” James snaps. “When we were ready to tell you, we were going to, but this is just an invasion of our privacy.”