From The Other Side

34. meet the family

THIRTY FOUR
meet the family

Sunday, May 25th

Isaiah was freaking out.

Sure, August had met his mom and sister once or twice, and they loved him. But he hadn't met his dad or his little brother, and now he was freaking out. Because Dylan would take every chance he could get to embarrass Isaiah on purpose, and Dad would do it on accident. Which was so much worse.

It was six thirty, and August said he'd be there around seven. Isaiah kept glancing toward the clock, sighing loudly, which Jordan kept glaring at him for. "Dude, stop worrying," Jordan had eventually told him, shaking her head. "They'll love him."

"That's not what I'm worried about," Isaiah muttered, rubbing at his cheeks. "Dad and Dylan are going to tell humiliating stories, and then August will never let them go and he'll make fun of me forever."

Jordan snorted. "I doubt it, but okay. You worry too much." She sat up in the armchair and leaned forward, observing her nervous brother. "Seriously. It'll be okay. I'm pretty sure it's going to be hard to scare him off; he seems weird like that."

Isaiah groaned, falling back against the sofa cushions. "Dylan will ask invasive questions!" he exclaimed, placing his palms over his eyes. "I already know it. He'll probably ask if he's a fucking robot, or a technological hero like Tony Stark."

"Hey," Jordan said, snapping her fingers. "Shut up. Everything will be fine, I promise."

Isaiah sulked. He could only hope she was right.

To keep his nerves in check, Isaiah entered the kitchen where his parents were both finishing up dinner. Isaiah leaned back against the countertop and watched his father lightly smack his mother's hand when she was about to do something wrong. The woman would pout and let his dad take over, as always when they felt food needed to be perfected for certain occasions. This happened to be one, in their opinion.

Isaiah worried at his bottom lip, hands holding onto the edge of the counter. "What are you guys making?" he asked, leaning forward to try and catch a glimpse. He smelled his father's homemade sauce.

"We're playing it safe," his mom said, clasping her hands together. "So we decided on pasta. And salad, too, if August wanted something healthier."

"I doubt he will," Isaiah admitted. "I'm pretty sure he's like, seventy five percent carbs."

"Oh," his dad said, pausing. He glanced over to the oven that had fifteen minutes left on it. "I made garlic bread, too. Is there such a thing as too many carbs?"

Isaiah shrugged, smiling a little. "He'll be fine," he reassured them. "At this point, it's like he's immune to anything bad happening."

"Oh no," his mom said, placing her hand against her cheek. "We're feeding an addiction. I could always order takeout. Does he like Mexican food, by any chance? Or Chinese?"

"Mom," Isaiah laughed, shaking his head in amusement. "It's fine. You've done this much already. He'll like it, so don't worry."

She blew out a breath. "Okay, if you say so."

Isaiah went to respond, but the sound of the doorbell cut him off, and he exchanged a wide-eyed look with his father. They both immediately glanced at his mom, who had visibly brightened, and Isaiah took off, getting to the front door before she could. Is he seriously here already?