“Your father’s right.” My mom places the dishes in the sink as I cut myself another slice of cake. “He’s a very nice boy.”

“Yeah,” I say, not looking at them, “he’s cool.”

“Was he okay at the end there?” she asks. “He rushed off pretty quickly.” She leans against the counter, taking dishes from my dad and drying them, and it looks like I’m getting the double interrogation tonight.

“Hope we didn’t scare him off.” My dad winks over his shoulder, pausing to kiss my mom on the cheek before turning back to the sink.

“You might scare me off.” I gag and my mom lazily swats me with the dish towel. She looks questioningly at me and I sigh before continuing. “I think he was fine. He just does that sometimes.”

“He’s very … perceptive,” my mom says carefully, and my dad’s shoulders tighten slightly.

“Um, yeah,” I say, confused. “I guess.”

“And he’s always like that?” my mom probes.

“Like what?” I ask.

“Rebecca,” my dad warns under his breath, and that freaks me out more than anything.

“I’m just asking a question.” She turns to him, shrugging innocently.

“And … what question is that, exactly?” I put my cake on the counter and take a step toward her, feeling like I’m missing something.

“I just think he’s a very unique boy, that’s all,” she finishes, like that explains anything. My dad turns back to the sink but the tension doesn’t leave his body. I pick my cake back up, chewing on it thoughtfully, wondering what tactic I can take to figure out what she’s talking about, when my mom speaks again.

“So, are you two dating?”

I nearly choke on my cake.

“Mom!”

“Rebecca—”

“What?” my mom exclaims. “It’s just a question!”

“Leave the poor boy alone.” My dad shakes his head, laughing, hands covered in suds. My face is burning and I’m still trying to swallow down thick chocolate cake.

“So?” she prompts, and my dad laughs again.

“No, we’re not dating,” I mumble into my nearly empty plate. “He’s not—we’re just friends.”

“Well, I think you’d make a very sweet couple,” she says casually, like this isn’t the most mortifying moment of my life.

“You’re incorrigible,” my dad chuckles, handing her a plate.

“Don’t pretend you don’t feel the same.” She wags her finger at him with her free hand and he shrugs and nods, making an agreeing “you’ve got me there” sound, and I’d very much like to slink away into nothingness now.

“Okay, wow, well, this has been fun,” I say, putting my plate back on the counter and edging toward the hall. “But I’m gonna go crawl into a hole now.”