The dinner that Chicago's dad had prepared was absolute perfection—the wings were perfectly seasoned, the smoked mac and cheese was well crafted, and the fries cut from potatoes and seasoned with cajun seasoning seemed to be addicting.
Honestly, everything seemed to be addicting—I just could not stop eating.
We discussed various topics, where I grew up, what I was in school for, how my mom was, and lastly, how Chicago and I met.
The conversation was light and comfortable, which surprised me since I had been expecting it to be awkward or tense. Chicago was entirely right about her parents being chill.
"I swear I'm in a food coma," I told Chicago as we walked up the foyer stairs toward the bedrooms. It was only a little past eight, and I was more than ready to hit the bed.
Then again, California is three hours behind, so back on the East Coast, it would be eleven right now.
Chicago laughed, "My dad's food will do it—wait until you try my mom's," she said as we walked down the tall halls.
I shook my head, "I really couldn't see anything topping the meal your dad just made," I admitted as we stopped at one of the tall wooden doors.
Chicago's brows raised, "Oh, then you're in for it then," she said, opening the door as we both walked into the dark room.
She flipped the light on, illuminating the large room. The large bed was positioned between two nightstands that had mirrors hanging over both, while a large rug covered the cold wood floors under the bed. There was another tall wooden door, where I assumed an en-suite was—and there seemed to even be a balcony leading out of the bedroom, which overlooked the huge backyard that had miles of grass.
Now that I was this high up, I could even see the basketball court that they had in the distance.
Karter...
I blinked a few times, looking away from the beautiful night view so quickly, I almost got whiplash.
"Hopefully this is suitable?" Chicago questioned, standing beside me as she held her hands behind her back.
I laughed, nodding as I said, "Of course this is suitable—has someone ever said it wasn't?"
Chicago shook her head, smiling slightly as she said, "No, not really—but you could always be the first," she said.
I laughed again, "Yeah, okay, like I would even complain about this," I joked.
Really, I couldn't ever imagine someone saying this wasn't up to their standards—I mean even the room smells like fresh lavender, something that her parents probably had done.
Chicago backed away from me, "Well, I'll leave you to it—I'm right across the hall if you need anything," she said, walking toward the open door.
I nodded, "Thank you... for everything." I said, meaning it completely—Chicago allowing me to come home with her for Thanksgiving was a huge deal, and it didn't go unnoticed by me.
Chicago waved me off, "It's no big deal, really," she assured me, walking out of the room as she said, "Goodnight."
I smiled, "Good night," I said, causing Chicago to give me one last smile before she was out of the room completely.
I stood there for a moment, taking in the odd quietness and the new surroundings.
A part of me wanted to feel homesick, but the other part felt excited to be somewhere new—and so far away. Besides, we're only here for a few more days before we head back to campus, so I at least want to try and enjoy it.
