“I’m pretty hungry too,” Oakley added. “Worked up quite an appetite yesterday.” He let a long suggestive pause fill the space before adding, “At the game, of course.”

After a few minutes of more awkward chitchat, my mom went in for the kill. “So what did the two of you get up to last night?”

“Oh, nothing,” I started to say.

“We went to an after-party to celebrate the win,” Oakley told my mom at the exact same time.

Both of my parents went quiet and looked at me nervously. The tension was thick enough that Oakley looked genuinely concerned and asked, “Did I do something wrong?”

“Amanda, are you partying again?” my dad asked sternly, completely ignoring Oakley’s question.

“No, Dad,” I said. “I mean, yes, I went to a party, but I wasn’t partying.” I tried to clarify.

“Oh honey, after everything we did to give you a fresh start after that unfortunate streaking incident,” my mom said, looking distressed. “Oh Crosby, I knew I shouldn’t have drank last night. Did it make you spiral? I feel so selfish.”

Oakley’s eyes practically bulged out of his head. He looked at me like he was dying to hear more. He was the fucking worst. I really just needed this breakfast to be over, and I did not feel like getting into my past with anybody, let alone Oakley.

“Mom!” I said firmly, my eyes wild. “I’m fine. I went to an after-party to keep an eye on Oakley; it’s my job. I did not drink. I did not do anything stupid.” At least, not anything that anybody other than Oakley knew about.

“We didn’t even stay that long,” Oakley quickly added in a half-hearted attempt to help me out. “We were barely there for an hour.”

“Then why were you out so late?” Dad asked, and my cheeks flamed red. I was not about to tell my parents I left early to fuck my client.

“Pancakes,” Oakley spat out awkwardly. “Where are those damn pancakes?”

We finished our breakfast in an uncomfortable silence, with Oakley staring at me intently the entire time. I was so relieved when the check was paid and it was time to leave. I gave both my mom and dad quick hugs and reassurances that I was doing really well. They then left in a taxi for the airport. Now, I just had to deal with Oakley.

“Streaking incident?” Oakley asked the first moment we had alone. I knew this was coming. I could only escape my past for so long. I turned to face Oakley with a sheepish grin, though there was a heavy sense of remorse tugging at my stomach.

“I got very drunk one night and went streaking on our campus president’s lawn,” I said as fast as I could get the words out.