Winifred glared across the table at her son as his phone buzzed loudly. He tried discretely to answer it, but rosy cheeks betrayed him as his fingers tapped across the keypad to unlock it. His eyes widened slightly as he scanned over the message, mouth opening slightly when he saw who it was from. A hot flush washed over his body, goosebumps raising on his skin.
“Roger,” Winifred admonished exasperatedly, “You know we don’t allow phones at the table.”
“I—sorry,” Roger muttered, moving the phone under the table to reread the message.
I’m horny. ~John
It was a simple message, nothing particularly dirty, but it went straight to Roger's groin. He knew he couldn’t do this here, with his mum and sister around him, as much as he wanted to.
I’m at dinner. I can’t right now. ~Roger
John’s answer was almost immediate, and nearly made Roger whine.
So you’ll have to be quiet when you come in your pants. ~John
Deaky, stop. I really can’t right now. ~Roger
You’re hot when you’re in denial. ~John
I’m not in denial, I just really can’t right now. ~Roger
You’re hard, aren’t you. ~John
Roger choked as he read John’s message, his pants tightening slightly. He spluttered a moment, finally swallowing his drink and looking guiltily up at his mum. Winifred glared at him, looking pointedly at his phone.
“Roger,” she warned, “We hardly ever see you and when we do you’re texting your band mates. You could at least allow us one dinner with you.”
“I’m sorry, mum,” Roger told her, not making eye contact with either of the girls at the table, “I’m trying to get rid of him.”
“Who is it?” Clare asked curiously. Roger blushed, clearing his throat and fiddling with the table cloth.
“It’s John,” he mumbled, pointedly ignoring the knowing looks he was sure his family was giving him.
“It’s always John,” Clare grinned, “When are you two gonna get married?”
“Clare!” Roger exclaimed, scandalized, “We’re not—it’s not like that. You know that.”
“All I know is that you two are inseparable and in love,” Clare shrugged, “and you’re too stupid to say something about it.”
“Clare,” Winifred admonished, “That’s enough. What Roger does or doesn’t do about his feelings for John is his business.”
“Mum,” Roger whined, “Not you too! Honestly, we’re just-just friends.”
“You don’t sound too sure,” Clare spoke again, “What are you hiding, Rog?”
Roger stayed silent mulling over his choices. He couldn’t exactly tell them that he and John were more than friends, but not quite together.
