Jett
With my hand on her knee, Asia and I sat on my parents’ leather sofa as they stared at us. “So you really did it?” my father asked.
I held up Asia’s left hand, showing off the rings. “We did. Last night. In Vegas.”
The lies were kind of choking me. It wasn’t as easy to lie right to their faces. It was much easier to do over the phone.
“And you’re from L.A.?” Mom asked Asia.
“No, ma’am, I was raised in Queens. I go to college at Rutgers in Jersey. I was on vacation when I met Jett.”
I was glad she remembered our little story because I was the one who was finding myself stumbling over the lies. “At a night club,” I managed to add.
“The Banshee,” Asia said as she patted my hand that was resting on her knee. “He taught me how to dance. Up until I met him, I thought I had two left f
