Conversation came to an abrupt halt—my mom cut my dad off as he was saying something. But not to interrupt something—to make him stop talking. Because I’m here. They must have been discussing some of their top secret stuff and then remembered that I’m also present and put the kibosh on that. Damn, I should have been paying a lot more attention.

Now I see my mom’s question for what it is: a desperate attempt to change the subject while there are minors present. I should never have told her about Caleb. Except I’ve been to his house and we hang out in the coffee shop and the park and my mom knows I almost never go anywhere. If I’m not around here or at school, she can guess where I am.

“Um,” I start, knowing I need to say something. Guess I should just jump in with both feet. “I actually invited him to come over and hang tonight, if that’s okay.”

My parents beam. It’s like a switch gets flipped and light comes on in their faces. My body summons up the energy to be just a little insulted by that when it occurs to me that this is the first time I’ve had a friend over in … years. It’s been years. So, yeah, okay, they have every reason to look happily surprised.

“But I don’t know that we’re doing that for sure,” I blurt, wanting to dampen their expressions so I don’t have to be blinded. “We didn’t make any concrete plans or anything.”

“Well, text him,” my dad laughs. “Make concrete!”

“Who is this person?” Annabelle asks, rolling her eyes at my dad ever so subtly.

“He’s a friend of Adam’s.” My mom grins. “Very nice young man. Football player.”

“Mom, what?” Panic seizes me again. “How do you know that? You haven’t even met him.”

“Your school isn’t very large, sweetie,” she says, matter-of-fact. “It wasn’t hard to look him up. And I assume he’s a nice young man because he’s friends with you.” She doesn’t even give me the courtesy of looking ashamed at how embarrassing literally every part of that statement is. I want to crawl under the table.

“Ooh, football player.” Annabelle smirks. “Is this nice young man a potential paramour?”

Now I really want to crawl under the table. My mom and dad exchange one of their Looks, this time with a disturbing twinkle in their eyes. Oh god, am I that obvious? Of course I am. Everyone and their mom (including mine) knows that I have a crush on Caleb. Apparently, the only person who doesn’t know is the boy himself.

“No,” I say, blushing, “it’s not like that, we’re just friends.”