8. October 21- Savannah

Iknew it. Of course, it's a chain. The excited hostess waves us through the door, smiling a perfect grin. "Welcome to Chili's."

I think Mom picks the chains because they always have friendly hostesses. She also says that you always know what to expect, and I expect a bigger than usual margarita tonight.

"I love this place," Wilder mumbles behind me.

I've been trying not to look at him. I picked him up after work, and he sauntered to the car with a wry smile on his face, climbing into my car and even giving me a peck on the cheek like I'm a proper girlfriend. The warmth of his lips from that contact is still on my skin, and I touch my cheek like I'm checking it hasn't left. It was jarring because we haven't had much physical contact since our date at the Chinese restaurant except for times our hands have briefly touched. It took the entire ride to the restaurant realize and come to terms with the fact that I want more and crave his physical touch. But instead of pulling over, climbing on top of him, and kissing him like a normal woman my age would have done, I stared straight ahead out the window with my hands at ten and two on the wheel like some kind of Uber-driving nun.

He didn't seem to care and talked the whole way here about his new job, eating at Chili's because he hasn't for a long time, and how much he likes living in the apartment with me but wants to buy me new bath towels for whatever reason.

"I don't see your mom," he says, pulling me out of my thoughts as we search the restaurant.

Eventually, I see the back of Mom's head at a table with a young guy who looks like he just graduated from high school. "Great, the dude brought his son or something. Come on," I mutter, slipping my hand into Wilder's. We need to keep up the ruse.

We approach the table, and Mom and her future stepson stand up. "There you are! I was wondering when you'd get here. Did you ride over on the motorcycle?" Mom asks, looking Wilder up and down and not even pretending to be subtle about it.

"I still can't get her on my bike, Heather," he says, leaning forward and kissing my mother on the cheek. "Maybe you can talk her into it. Good to see you again."

She raises her eyebrows and gets out of the seat she previously occupied. "Here, you two sit next to each other. I'll sit over here."

I look around the restaurant. Her date must be in the bathroom. Where's he going to sit if his kid is taking up the seat next to Mom?

The kid with her doesn't speak. He smiles like an idiot at me, like he's waiting for me to make a move, and I hold out my hand for him to shake. "Hi, I'm Savannah," I say kindly. After all, I can be nice if our parents are dating. "This is Wilder."

The kid has a shadow of a mustache on his upper lip, complete with fine brown hair. I squint closer at it, trying to see if it's full or if there are parts missing. His slightly chubby cheeks are puffy, and he smooths his dark hair to the side like he's at school picture day and they ran out of complimentary combs.

Wilder holds out his hand for the guy to shake. "Good to see you again, man," Wilder says, and I turn to him, a look of confusion on my face.

"You two know each other?"

Wilder shrugs. "Not really. I saw him at the speed dating event. Don't you remember him?"

Keys turn in the locks in my head, and it's like doing a puzzle and finding the piece you thought you'd lost.

Oh. My. Fucking. God.

I look the kid up and down again and finally recognize him as the nineteen-year-old guy I met at speed dating and deemed too young for me. Apparently, my mother had different thoughts about the age difference. Did he try to grow the mustache in an attempt to look mature enough to date my mother?

"What the absolute fuck?" It just comes out of my mouth. "Heather, can I talk to you a moment?" I ask, jerking my head toward the bathroom alcove and grabbing her shoulder. I hold up an index finger to Wilder. "Sweetheart, can you order me the biggest margarita on the menu? Something tells me I'm going to need a little extra."

"Sure thing, snickerdoodle," Wilder says, getting into the whole boyfriend charade and winking like Heather can't see it.

"Snickerdoodle?" Heather asks, but she follows it with a gasp as I pinch her upper arm and lead her away from the table.

I march Heather to a dark-paneled hallway, and a woman comes out of the restroom. The woman immediately backs against the wall and slides out of the hallway around us. She's smart enough to realize that I'm not in a good mood, and Heather and I aren't talking about the weather.

"Have you lost your damn mind?" I ask, turning on my mother and getting in her face. "Is he even legal? Am I going to have to bail you out?"

She holds her hands in front of me like she's trying to calm a wild horse. "He's nineteen. I have a year to spare on the legality."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better? What does it feel like banging a guy your daughter could have babysat in high school?"

"I don't see it that way. I don't see age, Savannah. You're being ageist. Aiden is special."

I get closer to her face. "He was named after a male character on Sex and the City?"

She shrugs. "The show isn't that old."

"That's entirely my point, Heather!" I pull my hair, and I must look like a mad scientist because even my mother backs up. "You judge me for not having a boyfriend for years when you're banging someone that can't even buy beer?"

"He can vote, and I think he can…"

"Oh, well, let's celebrate the little things. I'll go out there and ask who he's going to vote for next month in his first election. I hear the youth vote will turn the tide this year."

"I bet you can't give me two reasons why I can't date him."

"He wasn't alive on September eleventh, and he has no formed memory of the last Bush administration."

"I really think you should give him a chance."

"A chance for what? To become my stepfather?"

She laughs like this is a normal conversation. "It's just for cuffing season and just like you and Wilder but without the contract. You aren't going to run off and marry him, are you?"

"My God, Mom. Are you sleeping with him?" I ask, ignoring her question about Wilder.

"Of course, dear," she says, waving her hand like she's telling someone to move and turning back toward the table. "It's definitely different. Your generation expects a lot more butt jiggling and twerking. I didn't think sex could change…"

"Stop. Ew!"

"Well, one of us has to get some actual action. Have you even kissed Wilder yet?" she asks.

I won't yell at her back that my biggest action with Wilder was hearing him jerk off in the shower, so I can only trudge behind her a few steps, feeling like I have blocks of hardened quicksand wrapped around my legs. Wilder's on his side of the table and nonchalantly talking to Aiden. He laughs at something and points to the TV across the bar area, probably talking about the game. I thought him coming here would be a problem. Nope. As usual, it's Heather that causes some kind of dramatic scene or unusual conundrum.

I should walk over to the table, slide in next to him, and kiss him until our tongues are numb. If nothing else, it would show my unhinged, batshit crazy mother that I can also be just as exciting and adventurous.

When I finally get to my seat, Heather's already seated with her napkin in her lap and sipping her margarita. The waiter approaches and places a huge, salt-rimmed margarita in front of me. I look at Wilder, who smiles, and I mouth a silent thanks to him.

"So, Wilder," my mother begins, clapping her hands together. She tilts her head to the side and a lock of hair falls in her face, only to be swiped out of the way by the teenager next to her. "How is cuffing season progressing with my daughter?"

"Just fine, ma'am."

"Just fine?" She waggles her eyebrows, and I want the floor to open. Just swallow me up and take me away from this conversation like a monster slide at a children's museum.

He sniffs and flips through his menu. "Well, I don't think I'll ever look at cucumber and mint bodywash the same way again, so I'd say it's a banner cuff."

Heather practically sputters her drink out her nose, and I bite my lip to keep from shouting my approval at Wilder shocking my mother. That's not easy to do. Sure, Heather has no idea how he uses said bodywash or if he joins me in the shower. He could just be admiring the smell, but it's the innuendo. The sexy lilt to his voice. My mother likes to fuck around with men that can barely buy lottery tickets. Well, Mom, I can be shocking. I can have dirty shower sex with a sexy man in return for student loan payments from my mother.

I turn to him and lick my lips, winking a little. Before I can react, he leans forward, puts the bridge of his nose to mine and kisses me on the lips.

Right here.

Right in front of my mother and a man child, probably fresh from a student council meeting.

Right in front of the Chili's waiter here to take our order, who calmly backs away with wide eyes, sure he's interrupting an intimate moment as Wilder pulls me closer to him.

His mouth tastes of a recent cigarette, but I don't find it as unpleasant as I thought I would. It's a subtle taste and drowned out by the taste of beer on his lips. The combined tastes trigger something in my mind that reminds me of college. Keg parties.

My lips part to welcome Wilder's tongue, and I bring my hands to his cheeks before I can rethink the choice. This is normal, right? He's my fake boyfriend for the next few months, so it's perfectly natural we'd kiss.

My mother clears her throat, and I jump a little. Wilder breaks the kiss and straightens himself like a perfectly respectful gentleman. "Sorry about that," he mutters, opening his menu again. "I just can't help myself around your daughter. Beautiful women must run in the family, huh?"

I touch my lips and then lower my fingers. I can't let on that was our first kiss. He kissed me so hard that I know it convinced Heather that we're shagging like porn star rabbits. Now, I need to convince her that I'm in this to win this.

I open my menu with a smile and raise my eyebrows at her. "What's good here, Mom?" I ask as Wilder nudges my thigh under the table.