“Um, hey Mom,” Sam says, drying her hands off. I’m still stuck in the soapy water because I’m not sure what to do. What time is it? Can I act like I wasn’t here all night? Tyler, get a freaking grip! “This is Tyler. He’s a… um… friend?” Sam slams the towel against my chest, and I finally move, dripping water down my shirt. “Friend?” Her mom folds her arms and tilts her head at me. I know it’s ballsy, and I’ve never done the meet the parents thing, but it seems like there should be some sort of protocol here. And I don’t want to start off by lying to her. Moving around Sam, I stick my hand out. “Tyler Koontz,” I say, praying my voice doesn’t crack. “And I’m dating your daughter.” Instead of shaking my hand, she braces herself using the counter. Her eyes are a bit tired, like she’s been up all night or really hung-over. But she’s not swaying or holding her head so I’m thinking it’s the former.
