Schuyler

“Hey,” Calvin whispers, peeking his head in the bedroom.

I wave at him to shoo him out, and I tiptoe behind him, suddenly nervous about how the rest of this evening will play out.

“I’ve prepared my bed for you,” he states, motioning me towards the back of the house.

“I can’t kick you out of your bed,” I argue.

“My couch is plenty big enough for me,” he promises.

I walk into his room, finding the blankets pulled back and the ...