Darren left at nine, after a dinner with Jayden’s parents that veered between embarrassing (Mrs. Phillips) and hilarious (Mr. Phillips). His father was definitely in the know; his mother seemed to be operating under the illusion that they were living in the nineteenth century and Darren hadn’t so much as kissed Jayden on the mouth. Never mind anywhere else. Multiple times.
Still, it had been kind of fun, to watch Jayden squirm and watch his father weigh Darren up and brusquely declare him ‘all right’ when he admitted to his love of rugby. After that, Jayden had dared to take his hand on top of the table, and had left it there for the remainder of the meal.
Mrs. Phillips had offered to drive him home, but it was a nice night, and there was something calming about getting to kiss Jayden on
