I'm not falling for him maybe.

chapter four.

"Is that a horse?"

"No! I told you, it's an action." My mom frowns, scribbling a frustrated blob of lines on our dry erase board. "Guess something!"

"Uh... horse riding?"

"No! God Oliver, have you ever played Pictionary before?"

"Honey, maybe if you drew them better he'd actually stand a chance at guessing," My dad teases, dodging the eraser when she chunks it at his head.

"Time's up!" I shout, watching the last grain of sand fall through the miniature hourglass.

"What was it?" My boyfriend asks, tilting his head.

"Wait, let me guess." My dad stares at the board for a minute. "Boxing?"

"Dog-walking." My mom says slowly. "It was dog-walking."

Everyone except my mother starts laughing. I figured the one being humilated tonight would be me, not my mom. I start laughing harder at the thought.

"Oh honey, we're just joking." My dad stands up to take his turn, pecking my mom on the cheek. She lets out a long breath and flops down on the couch beside of Oliver, but she appears to be hiding a smile. "For crying out loud, where's the freaking eraser?"

We start laughing again, watching him dig under the couch for the object my mom threw at him just a few minutes ago. Just as he pulls it out, the doorbell rings.

"I wonder who that could be," My mom sighs, standing up. "I'll go check."

"Don't you want to see dad's epic failure?" I ask.

"Oh, it'll be epic, but it won't be a failure." My dad grins, rolling up his sleeves.

I roll my eyes, looking at Oliver. He laughs.

"Okay..." I glance back at my dad. He picks up one of the cards, skimming over the challenge. "Alright. This is a person, place or animal."

He puts the card on the bottom of the stack and picks up the marker. I flip the timer over after he draws his first line. I watch as he sketches out what appears to be a creature from another dimension until he adds a tail. "Oh! Oh, a beaver?" He shakes his head. "A duck? A platypus! It's a platypus!"

"Yes!" He pumps his fist in the air and throws the marker down. "That's how you get it done!"

I laugh and reach out to high five him. My mom comes back in the living room, sticking her tongue out at us both, with Chase following close behind.

"I can leave," Chase mumbles, sticking his hands in his pockets.

"No, it's fine!" My dad points to the floor beside of me. "You can sit beside of Grace. Actually, we're almost finished with this game if you want to play next time. Grace and I could win with our hands tied behind our backs the way these losers are playing."

My mom rolls her eyes and slaps him, pretending to pout. Chase doesn't say anything. He nods and sits down beside of me. I can tell something is wrong so I stand up, shooting him a look and grabbing my empty glass.

"I'm going to get some more snacks and drinks. You want to help me out?"

"Sure." He nods, following me into the kitchen.

"You better hurry! You don't want to miss the next drawing!" My dad calls after us, laughing at my boyfriend's annoyed expression.

"What was that about?" Chase asks, pulling our bag of pretzels from the kitchen cabinet.

"They can't draw for crap." I grab his arm and pull him to the side, so we're out of sight from the living room. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know. It's my mom." He sighs, leaning against the wall and rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. I wait for him to say more. I know he's not finished. "She's just mad at me because I forgot to do something. It was stupid. I don't even remember what it was. Whatever, you know? It just got out of hand."

"What happened?" I ask, quietly.

"She told me I was just like my dad." He shrugs.

Maybe some teenagers would like to be compared to their father; honestly, I take it as a compliment when people say I'm like my dad. But Chase's father had a short temper and was a violent man who left them to fend for themselves when his second son was a year old because he could tell that he "wasn't quite right."

I can't believe his mom would dare to go that far. I don't know what to say. I can tell the words really hurt him, so I just touch his arm for a minute. "I'm sorry," I finally say. "You're nothing like him."

"Yeah. I guess. It's cool." He's done talking about it. He picks up the pretzels again. "Anyway, I don't want to go back home. I said some rude things too. Is it alright if I crash here?"

"It's fine with me. You'll have to ask my parents, though." After I pour myself some more soda and fix another bowl of popcorn, we go back into the living room. My dad's got his arms crossed. "Sorry, is it my turn? I was making sure we had everything. Oh, by the way, can Chase spend the night?"

My mom looks ready to protest, but my dad shrugs it off. "Yeah, sure. Now, will you get to drawing already? We have a team to beat over here."

I roll my eyes and hand him the snacks, walking over to the board. I can't help but wonder if Oliver minds another boy staying at my house all night when he never gets to, but there's really nothing I can do about it.