“He’s humming,” Bryan hissed. “Kurt is home from school and he’s humming.”
“Maybe he just likes humming,” David suggested dryly.
Bryan peeked around the corner into the kitchen. “No, no, not like this,” he said. “He looks like a Disney princess. He’s humming and sashaying.”
“He sashays pretty often, honey, he gets it from you,” David reminded him.
Bryan poked him in the shoulder. “Hey,” he warned. “Here, just look.”
David looked around the corner. Their sixteen-year-old son was waltzing around the kitchen, his Dalton blazer draped over the back of a chair and his white shirt untucked. And he was definitely humming as he dug around in the refrigerator and pulled out an apple.
“He’s humming ‘Teenage Dream’,” David whispered. “He’s been doing that a lot lately.”
Bryan frowned. “Look at his face,” he said. “Something’s wrong. His lips are all pink, and his cheeks are all flushed.” He grabbed David’s arm. “Oh my god. Oh my god. He’s been kissing someone.”
“You don’t know that,” David scoffed. “Maybe he’s just-”