Free Amber Frost by Suzi Davis

were about to start. Waiters were beginning to weave through the crowd, directing people to their seats and taking drink orders.
    “You’ll meet them in about five seconds,” I replied nervously as I turned back around. What would my parents think of Sebastian? What would he think of them? I squirmed uncomfortably, inwardly wincing in apprehension of the sure-to-be awkward encounter.
    “Grace, Clarke said you weren’t feeling well,” my mother said somewhat accusingly as she arrived at our table. She fixed me with a sharp stare. “He seemed quite upset. You shouldn’t have concerned him like that,” she scolded.
    My father came up silently behind her, frowning as he sat down.
    “I’m sorry we’re not sitting with the Simons tonight, dear,” my father apologized, also not acknowledging the Jensons’ presence yet. “I know you must be disappointed. There was some kind of mix up,” he explained. My mother sniffed in disapproval as she sat down by my side. It was then that they seemed to notice the Jensons, who sat silently, patiently waiting to be acknowledged, and Sebastian, who sat on my other side and studied them with his dark, intense eyes. I was relieved to see that he didn’t look amused by my parents’ behavior, in fact, he actually looked a little angry.
    “Mother, father, this is Mr. and Mrs. Jenson,” I gestured to the Jensons with one hand, “and their foster son, Sebastian. He goes to Craigflower too,” I explained. Their gazes only flickered over the boy beside me briefly, instantly dismissing him as unimportant once they took in his appearance. My mother gave the Jensons a brief smile, my father eyed them speculatively.
    “Don and Shauna Jenson?” he asked, seeming suddenly more alert. Mr. Jenson hesitantly nodded. “My name is Gordon Stevenson, of the firm Taylor, Witt & Stevenson.”
    “Ah, a fellow defender of justice,” Mr. Jenson remarked with a wry smile. My father’s deep laugh rumbled in his chest.
    “Yes, I’m sure you’ve heard of me. And I’ve heard of you too – you’ve quite the reputation. You do mostly international work, don’t you?” my father inquired. My mother’s eyes had brightened and she looked significantly more interested upon learning that the Jensons were lawyers and had some sort of prestige in the field.
    “Yes. Don’s actually working with the UN right now,” Mrs. Jenson admitted somewhat shyly. My mother sat up straighter, a phony smile stretching across her thin, pinched face.
    “How interesting. You must tell us about your work,” she insisted. The sick feeling in my stomach was starting to return. I turned to Sebastian to see how he was reacting to all of this. To my surprise, he was now ignoring my parents just as thoroughly as they were him. He sat silently, intently studying my face, a touch of concern to his expression.
    “They’re worse than I expected,” he told me in a low, quiet voice. I looked to my parents anxiously but they obviously hadn’t heard. They were quite engaged in their conversation with the Jensons or at least my father was, my mother only listened politely. I turned back to Sebastian, wondering again why I wasn’t offended when I was fairly certain I should be.
    “The Jensons seem nice,” I told him, changing the subject. He nodded his agreement.
    “They are nice people, very hard-working and committed to their causes. I chose them well.” He smiled at me, his dimple appearing in his cheek. I couldn’t help but smile back.
    My mother cleared her throat beside me. Apparently she’d lost interest in the conversation with the Jensons, though my father was now involved in an animated debate with the two over some past case or another. Her eyes flickered disapprovingly between Sebastian and I. The smile slid from my face. I hadn’t realized how close together we’d been sitting. I automatically pushed my chair away from his, sitting up straighter and staring across the table to my father and the Jensons,