14. Jamie

When Adrian initially invited me to his birthday not-party, I wasn't nervous. But now, as I'm stepping off the elevator on his floor, flowers in hand with my best friend at my side, the reality that I'm about to meet every important person in Adrian's life for the first time hits me all at once.

The last time I met a significant other's parents was my college girlfriend, and it went well, but I don't know. This feels different. It feels… big. Maybe it's because I know he has never truly dated anyone and, therefore, has never introduced anyone to his parents. It could also be the added pressure of making our fake relationship convincingly appear real. Or maybe it's just the fact that everything seems to make me fucking anxious nowadays, even with me attempting some of the self-care and anxiety-management tricks he told me since he talked me down on the night of the primaries.

"You okay?" Mina asks, her brow furrowed when she notices my sudden anxiety has stopped me in my tracks.

God, I'm glad Adrian—or I guess Sophie—suggested I bring her.

"What if they don't like me?" I ask, and I hate how small my voice sounds.

"Who? Adrian's friends? His parents?"

I nod.

"Okay, well, first, they're going to like you. Parents love you," she says, matter-of-fact. "Mine wanted to adopt you after they first met you, remember? But also, why does it matter if they do or don't? Other than your general desire to be liked by everyone."

And in theory, it shouldn't matter. Except that it does. It really does.

When I don't answer, she gives me an appraising look, then her eyes widen. "Wait, you like him—like, like him-like him."

"The number of ‘likes' in that sentence really have me questioning why you're in charge of writing my speeches," I deadpan.

"Shut up," she says as she lightly smacks my arm with the back of her hand. "But seriously, do you actually have feelings for him?"

I shrug nonchalantly, but she knows me well enough to see straight through it.

"I knew it!" she squeals. "I knew this would happen. The second I saw you two at lunch, I knew it was only a matter of time before y'all were no longer faking it."

"Okay, hold on. Don't get ahead of yourself. We're still faking it. He made it clear when we talked about boundaries that he doesn't do relationships. So just because I went and developed a tiny, likely one-sided crush on him, doesn't mean it's going anywhere," I say firmly. Although, whether that's supposed to convince her or me, I don't know.

"Well, he might have said he doesn't do relationships, but I know what I saw, and trust me, it's not one-sided," she says before looping her arm through mine. "Now come on. Being late won't make a good first impression on his mom and dad."

When we get to the door, she lets go of my arm, and I take a quick deep breath before raising my free hand to knock.

The door swings open within seconds, revealing the same redhead that was dancing with Adrian That Night. I hadn't gotten the best look at her then because of the lighting in the club, although, even if it had been broad daylight, I probably wouldn't have paid much attention to her. Not that she's not attractive because she is. She's short, a little shorter than Mina, even, so maybe around 5'3", with round brown eyes and faint freckles dusted across the bridge of her nose. Actually, she has an almost girl-next-door quality about her, right down to the flower print sundress and oversized cardigan she's wearing. In other words, she's almost exactly my type. But That Night I only had eyes for Adrian. Still do, apparently, given the slight pang of disappointment that hits me when I realize he's nowhere to be seen.

It quickly dissipates, though, when Sophie offers me the biggest smile.

"Hi! You must be Jamie and Mina. I'm Sophie, Adrian's coworker at the clinic. It's so good to meet you." She bounces on the balls of her socked feet for a moment before going in for a hug, but then immediately stops and pulls back. "Sorry, I'm a hugger, especially after I've had wine. Are you a hugger?"

And now the nervousness that was coursing through me fades as well as I smile back. I think Adrian might be right. Sophie has an almost magical ability to put people at ease. "I am," I say, bending slightly to accommodate our height difference for a one-armed hug so I don't crush the flowers in my hand.

After a few seconds, she pulls back and turns to Mina, who already has her arms held out to prepare for a hug.

"You were the one with the spell from primary night, right?" Mina says as they part.

"That's me," Sophie says brightly. "I don't know if I'd call it a full spell. I haven't quite worked my way up to that yet. I mostly just stick to crystals and candles."

"Well, either way, it worked. Which is good because I did not have the mental energy to do any sort of witchyness that night other than sneaking a crystal into Jamie's pocket." She nudges me slightly. "So thanks for that."

"Of course! Adrian is fussing in the kitchen even though it's his birthday party, and he should be relaxing." She shouts the last bit over her shoulder toward the kitchen, and there's a laugh from behind her in the living room. "But he should be out in a minute, so come in and meet Casey."

She steps aside, and we enter, stopping briefly to toe off our shoes. A man with brown hair and glasses—Casey, I'm guessing—stands from the couch and walks over to greet us. He's a few inches shorter than me, with a slightly scruffy beard. Cute, in a kind of nerdy way.

"Hey, it's nice to meet you," he says, sticking out his hand.

I take his hand and shake briefly. "You too."

Mina sticks her hand out as well. "Mina, nice to meet you."

There's a brief beat of silence, then I turn to Sophie. "Uh, you said Adrian was in the kitchen?"

"Yeah, go ahead. Maybe you'll be able to drag him out here," she says with a fond roll of her eyes.

I nod and head through the dining room, where the record player is softly playing a Hozier album. Before I get to the kitchen, I hide the flowers behind my back. Adrian's back is to me, so I gently knock to get his attention.

"Knock, knock."

He jumps, then quickly spins around.

"Oh, sorry, darlin'," I say.

"It's alright," he says as he wipes his hands off on the towel draped over his shoulder. "Hi."

I smile and close the distance. "Happy birthday. These—" I produce the bouquet with a flourish—"are for you."

I'd been a little unsure of how the flowers would go over, but the blush that spreads over his cheeks tells me I made the right call.

"I told you not to get me anything," he scolds, however the slight smile on his face undercuts it.

"And I told you that my mother raised me never to show up empty-handed," I tease back. "Besides, you said your main objection to presents is having to open them in front of people. You didn't have to unwrap anything, and everyone else is in the living room."

"Of course you created a loophole for yourself." He sighs and takes the flowers from me, gingerly, like he's afraid of crushing them. "But thank you. They're lovely."

When he dips his head to smell them, it takes all my strength not to lean in and press a kiss to his still-blushing cheek.

"You're welcome," I say. "If you point me toward a vase, I can take care of those for ya."

"I, uh, don't have one," he says. "I have a pitcher, though."

"Has no one ever given you flowers?"

He shakes his head, and I frown, even though I probably could have predicted that given his stance on dating. Still, everyone should get flowers at some point in their life. I've never gotten flowers from a significant other—mostly because I've only ever dated women and heteronormativity dictates men are the ones to give the flowers—but my mom sent me flowers on my first day in office.

"Well, next time I'll make sure to bring you flowers in a vase. For now, though, where's that pitcher?" I ask.

"Above the fridge," he says, slightly confused.

I expect him to comment on my "next time" comment, but he doesn't, instead going back to arranging the veggie tray he was prepping when I came in. So I busy myself with getting the pitcher down and arranging the flowers in some water.

"So are your parents not coming anymore?" I ask.

"No, they are," he says. "But I thought it might take some of the pressure off you if you didn't have to meet Casey and Sophie for the first time while pretending you've already met them," he says.

"Oh, right, seeing as, if we'd really been dating for several months before the photos came out, I would have already met them several times." I've been so busy working on my slight surprise for Adrian over the past few weeks that I hadn't even thought of that.

"Exactly, they should be here—"

"Adrian, your parents are here!" Sophie's shout comes from the living room.

"Now, apparently," he finishes. He looks at the nearly finished veggie tray and bites his lip.

"I'll get this. Go say hi to your parents," I say, pulling the towel off his shoulder.

"Are you sure—"

"Go. I'm right behind you." I shoo him away with the towel and a smile. Then I arrange the last of the carrots before following him out, tray in one hand, pitcher of flowers in the other.

When I get into the living room, I'm greeted by a stoic man—basically the spitting image of Adrian if you added thirty years and cut his hair a little shorter—and a short, mid-size woman with gray hair hugging Adrian around the middle.

"Happy birthday, pumpkin!"

"Thanks, Mom," Adrian says, the words coming out a little strained, like his mom is squeezing him a little too tight. "Hi, Dad."

"Happy birthday, kid," his dad says, clapping him on the shoulder as his mom lets go.

"Now where is this boyfriend we've heard almost nothing about?" his mom asks.

"Right here, ma'am," I say, offering them my best charming smile. "I had to chase him out of the kitchen because he was workin' too hard on his own birthday party."

"That sounds about right," his mom says fondly as I set down the tray and pitcher of flowers on the coffee table. Then she drops her voice to a whisper—or more of a stage whisper since I can still hear her—and nudges Adrian. "He brought you flowers? I like him already."

His hushed warning is immediate. "Mom."

Apparently, I'm not the only one that hears her because I hear Casey stifle a laugh.

I can't help grinning as I walk over to formally introduce myself, sticking my hand out to his father first. "Hi, I'm Jamie."

"Brandon," his dad says, grasping my hand and giving it a firm shake.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, sir." I repeat the gesture with his mom. "Ma'am."

"Nancy," she says with a warm smile. "I hope you don't mind if we interrogate you a little. Adrian's been a bit of a closed book when it comes to you."

"I think he"s always a bit of a closed book, but I like that about him. It balances me out," I say, wrapping an arm around his lower back and smiling at him. Although, I have to admit the knowledge that Adrian hasn't said much about me, other than acknowledging my existence in his life, stings a little. "So interrogate away."

"Shall we sit?" Nancy asks. "Also, Casey Summers, I see you over there avoiding giving me a hug."

Casey gasps dramatically. "I would never."

After a round of hugs between Adrian's parents, Casey, and Sophie, and a quick introduction to Mina, we all settle around the coffee table. Mina and Sophie take residence on the floor while Nancy and Brandon sit in chairs pulled in from the dining room, and Adrian seats himself on the couch between Casey and me.

"So, Jamie, Adrian says you're a congressman," Brandon starts.

"That's correct, sir. I'm in my first term," I say, even though I'd put money on them already knowing that. Even if he hasn't told them much about me, I would be shocked if they didn't at least Google me. I would if I were a parent of someone dating a person with their own Wikipedia page.

"You're awfully young," Nancy says.

"Yes, ma'am. It's still a little surreal, to be honest."

"Why politics?"

It's a question I get a lot, so my practiced, although slightly toned down, answer is on the tip of my tongue. "I've always wanted to do everything I could to make my community better. As a kid, I always tried really hard to be the kid who raised the most money for the math-a-thon for St. Jude even though I'm terrible at math. Then I volunteered for the Obama campaign in 2012 and fell in love with politics. I was so thrilled when I got to work as a policy writer for the governor's office. But I never considered actually running for any sort of office until the governor himself suggested it."

"You must have made quite the impression," Brandon muses.

"I think it's more that I'm outspoken and loud about it," I say with a nervous laugh.

"He's being modest. I always knew he'd run eventually," Mina cuts in, and I shoot her a look.

"You did not," I fire back.

"Did too," she insists. "You were on a tirade about gerrymandering after one of your political science classes sophomore year, and I said to myself, ‘my best friend is going to run for office someday.'"

"I can believe that," Adrian says, and I give him a funny look. "You get really worked up about gerrymandering."

"Well, it's a big problem," I say defensively.

And he just smiles and pats my hand. "I know, baby."

The second it's out of his mouth, his hand freezes on top of mine. He hasn't called me that since That Night, and the way the word washes over me threatens to make me melt just like it did then, even though the low, seductive tone isn't there. There's just warmth and fondness, which instead makes me feel a little fuzzy. But despite his calm exterior, I can tell he's internally freaking out. So I smile and carefully flip my hand to interlace our fingers.

And if my stomach does a little dance when he relaxes into my side and squeezes my hand, that's nobody's business.