𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐚𝐝 𝐁𝐨𝐲'𝐬 𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐢𝐩𝐥𝐞

19 | 𝐷𝑜𝑒𝑠𝑛'𝑡 𝑇𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒 𝐿𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝐶ℎ𝑖𝑐𝑘𝑒𝑛

If there was one thing I knew about Sullivan Corbett that not many people knew, it was that he knew a lot about frogs.

In the amount of time I have spent with him whilst working on our project (that has nothing to do with the wonderful topic of amphibians), I have figured out that my all-time-big crush, is a frog expert.

"They actually drink water through their skin, isn't that crazy-cool?" He paused in thought. "I wish I could do that."

"Kids!" his mom called, inviting us to the dinner table.

This would be the second time that I'd meet his parents, but the first that would be considered an official 'meet the parents' or future in-laws. The occasion was oddly... okay. Of course Victor had to calm me over the phone to subdue the uprising panic attack, but other than that, I felt alright.

When we neared the larger than average cherry oak surface, I saw that his father  already sat at the head of the table with rectangular rimmed glasses settled at the tip of his nose. He was in the midst of reading a red binded novel with tiny gold printed letters along the cover.

Damn, he looks pretty smart. The misogynistic type.

"Sullivan didn't tell us you were staying for dinner until a few moments ago. I hope you like what we're having," Mrs.Corbett optimistically said, parading from the kitchen into the dining room with a glass dish.

I quickly shielded my chest with my hands. "If that's alright--"

"Of course it is." This time, Mr. Corbett was talking. He lowered the novel alongside his glasses, leveling his eyes on me. "I don't think we've really met, have we?"

"Uhh--" I glanced over to Sullivan who was now gazing into his phone. "Azariah, but people call me Riyah."

"That's it," shot Mrs. Corbett. "It's definitely a weider name, but the best are," she teased with a quirky smile. She looked a lot like Liv. The hair was almost the same color and her pale complexion had matched his, but Liv's face shape was nearly identical to his father's who wore the all gray balding head look.

Mr. Corbett stood from his spot at the table and drew his hand closer to mine. I nodded slowly. "It's so nice meeting you, Mr. Corbett--"

"Please," he cackled. "Call me Ed."

Sullivan approached a wooden chair and hauled it out, collapsing into it. He stared hungrily at the food as if the waft of aroma trained his eyes to follow. I mimicked his movements and seated myself as I half-glanced to the two glass dishes centered along the dinner table.

Mrs. Corbett upturned her palm to the ceiling with a beaming grin. "Riyah, would you like to say Grace for us?"

Shit. Goddammit. Oh, maybe this was a bad time to curse in God's name. Fuck!

My cheeks started to flare while I nodded gratefully, accepting the offer. "Sure, of course." My hand was suddenly stolen in the grasp of Sullivan's and I felt like I couldn't breathe.

How does one willingly get air to their lungs?

My hand grew sweatier. I could feel it and needed to desperately wipe it along my dark wash jeans. However, the moment was quickly ruined when Mr. Corbett, or Ed, squirmed his hand into my opposing hand also. Mrs. Corbett was seated across from me, but looked expectantly into my soul.

    Why couldn't I have ever said Grace before?

"Uh... thanks." I began, fluttering my eyes closed after noticing mine were the only ones left open as I started. "For this... food and this wonderful day." I scanned the room, my eyes now awake as I took notice of the Corbett family's heads tipped towards the empty plates. "And... get rid of evil like things and thank you for that... umm, Jesus."