“You guys are all grown up now,” my mom says. “It’s hard for us. You were our babies. But this is normal, of course. And you were being safe.”

“We’re certainly glad you used protection,” my dad agrees. “We raised you right.”

I choke on my tea, spitting it back into my mug as everything clicks together. They aren’t mad about a party. They don’t even know about the party.

“But did you really have to do it in our bed when there are so many other places available?” Andrew’s mom adds. “You know our room is off-limits.” She pauses. “Is that why you went in there? Was it some sort of kink?”

“God, Mom, stop!” Andrew jumps up, banging his knee on the edge of the couch. “That wasn’t our condom, okay?”

The room suddenly feels hot and cramped. Hearing Andrew use the words our condom makes my stomach flop uncomfortably. It’s just messed up.

“Well, who else’s could it be?” his mom asks, and I swear she sounds a little disappointed.

“Are you saying you two aren’t using protection?” my mom jumps in. “Because if that’s the case, we have a lot more to worry about than—”

“We’re not having sex!” I shout, jerking suddenly and spilling my plate of bruschetta. The toasts scatter all over the carpet. I bend down and scoop the tomatoes up with my fingers, trying to clean, trying to hide my face, to keep busy, to focus on anything other than the conversation around me. I can’t look at my parents, can’t make eye contact with anyone—especially Andrew.

He bends down to help me, grabbing some bruschetta into his napkin, and I stare intently at the floor. His shoulder is an inch from mine, and I can feel the energy radiating off him, can feel the heat of our parents’ gazes as they read too much into the situation.

“I’ve got it,” I say.

“It’s okay, I can help.”

“No, seriously. Stop.” I pull the napkin from his hands. He stands up, arms raised in surrender. Everyone is staring at me. I place the trashed plate back onto the coffee table while everybody watches. I’ve never felt so uncomfortable in my life.

“So if it’s not yours, how did a condom wrapper end up on our bedside table?” his dad asks. “Did it fly in through the window?”

“We had some people over for Keely’s birthday, okay?” Andrew says, sitting back down on the coffee table.

“Some people? Like a party?” his mom asks.

“No, like a casual get-together with some friends. What did you guys expect, leaving us alone on her birthday weekend?”

“A casual get-together with some sexually active friends, it seems,” his dad adds.

“This isn’t a big deal,” Andrew says. “You’re blowing this all out of proportion.”