Meet The Parents
“Will you stop fidgeting, you’re making me nervous,” Luke chuckles, grabbing one of your hands to rest it on his thigh, “You don’t have to be nervous, they’ll love you.”
“Yeah but, what if they don’t,” You ask, biting your bottom lip, you squeeze his upper thigh, “What if they think I’m not good enough for you? Oh my God, what if they hate me? Luke, this was a bad idea, take me back home,” You ramble, squeezing his thigh harder and harder.
“Babe, you’re cutting the circulation in my leg,” He groans, lacing his fingers with yours to stop the abuse on his thigh. Bringing your intertwined hands to his lips, he gently places a peck on your fingers, squeezing them reassuringly, “All my parents want is for me to be happy, and you baby, make me very happy.”
“Are you trying to flirt with me, Hemmings,” You gasp, trying to hold in your laughter, “You already got in my pants; you can tone down the charm now.”
“Baby, I’m taking you to meet my mother,” He smirks, taking his eyes off the road to look at you, “I plan to flirt with you until we’re old and wrinkled, and can no longer walk without a cane.”