Page 94 of Obey

I’m steadier in myself, even though it’s very early days. I’m sure I’ll feel wobbly going forward but right now, in this quiet space with myself, I’m more level than I have been in a while.

Maybe I’ll learn a new skill, or take up a new hobby. The possibilities are endless and each moment I spend with myself in the bathroom, more and more options burst into my mind.

By the time I’m dressed, I’m fizzing with nervous energy. I practically skip downstairs. There’s a gasp in the kitchen. Is my guy a fan of daytime TV? Wouldn’t that be something? My enormous, tattooed, scowly faced grumpasaurus loves watching TV dramas? I can’t wait to threaten to tell all his friends. They don’t kink shame, sure, but they may judge his love of watching shows about fixing up houses.

I’m already halfway into the kitchen before there’s a tingle at the base of my neck that something is wrong.

Jagger’s standing in front of the stove, barefoot, in tight briefs leaving very little to the imagination. His expansive chest and shoulders displaying the intricate ink etched into his skin. He’s holding a frying pan in one hand, and a spatula in the other. His scowly face looks particularly scowly. Like, scowlier than usual. More scowly? Either way, it’s like, next level Jagger scowl.

I might need a fan for my girl garden cause the smolder's super hot.

Movement behind me makes my feet stutter to a stop. I close my eyes for the briefest of moments, picking up the faintest scent of Chanel no.5 in the air. My stomach hardens like someone’s poured quick-drying cement on me as I freeze.

When I meet Jagger’s stare, his nostrils flare. I expect panic, but his eyes are dancing with a bright twinkle of amusement, and not even rolling my lips between my teeth can make me fight the snort that bursts out of my body.

My mouth is dry, another glance at Jagger’s junk confirms that yeah, he’s still standing in the kitchen in his very revealing underwear.

“Mama.”

Thankfully I wore short shorts and a tank down to breakfast, and I even thought to put on a bra. Points for me. I mostly wasn’t sure I was ready for Jagger to see me all hanging out, but clearly he had no such misconceptions.

“Talia.” Mama’s voice is tight.

Dad clears his throat too, it’s awkward, forced, like he wants me to know he’s here but doesn’t want to actually speak.

They’re standing close to the door, like they just walked in and found him cooking. They can’t have been here for that long or Jagger would have put pants on... right? Or did he let them in and simply went back to cooking? Oh... lord. The thickening tension is suffocating. Talia, say something. Quickly.

“I see you’ve met Jagger again.”

Mama splutters. “All of him.” Mama cracking a joke about Jagger’s visible junk wasn’t on my bingo card for today, or, you know, ever. And it’s all it takes for Jagger’s melodic chuckle to make an appearance.

“Half-Pint, your parents are joining us for brunch.”

I can’t bring myself to turn around and face them.

“Could you set the table while I put some pants on please?” The lightness in his voice isn’t something I’m used to either, but I like it. He doesn’t seem bothered by the fact my very strict, serious, conservative parents are standing mere feet away while he’s on display, but the hilarity of the situation isn’t lost on me either.

“Why bother?” Mama’s smirking, I can tell from the sound of her voice. “We’ve seen it all anyway.”

Dad clears his throat again, but says nothing.

Jagger grunts. “I’ll put pants on.”

When he leaves, I suck in a slow breath, ready to turn and face the parents who are eternally disappointed in me, the parents I let down by not marrying the man they chose for me or following the dreams they had for me.

Instead of anger, disappointment, or horror, Mama is smiling. “Talia, honey?”

“Mm?”

“Is he...?” She casts a fleeting glance at the door. “Is he...? You know...?” She drops her voice. “Pierced?”

Chapter Thirty

JAGGER

I’m not embarrassed my girlfriend’s parents saw me in my Calvin Kleins. Not even a little bit. But as I spear at the pancakes Talia’s mom made for breakfast, I swallow down the brewing anger, geared up for a fight.

They were very pleasant while Talia’s mom stepped in to cook for everyone. I wasn’t far in to making breakfast, and she was bouncing around with so much nervous energy, I was happy to step aside and let her make whatever she wanted to.