Dawson
“Oh, don't you two worry about us. Go, have fun,” Carol declares excitedly as she all but shoves us out the front door.
She had taken the news that Grace and I would be leaving for a few days better than either of us had expected. She’s practically vibrating with enthusiasm, waving one hand like she’s sending us off on a honeymoon instead of a two‑day trip. Grace’s dad stands behind her with his arms crossed, jaw tight, giving me a look that could peel paint. Our bonding — which had been going surprisingly well — comes to a screeching halt the second he realizes his daughter and I will be sleeping under the same roof without him nearby.
He thinks this trip is about s*x.
He isn’t wrong.
Not entirely, anyway.
But it’s more than that. It’s privacy. Space. A chance to breathe wit
