Nobody was going to come up for the dishes for at least another few minutes, which gave them all the time to make out standing in the middle of the dining room, arms around each other. Avery leaned into it, holding Lyra close, and lifted one hand to her face, cradling it gently in his hand. “You’re so hot when you’re smashing the patriarchy,” he murmured against her mouth, half a tease and half serious. Could he remember how to get his hands in underneath that ripped top?
“Hem-hem.”
Avery glanced up at the sound of his mother pointedly clearing her throat, one brow raised, and his mother matched it. Just how much she’d been listening in to, it was impossible for them to say, because she gave nothing away bar mild irritation.
“Do you think you can clear out so Joanna can do her job?” she asked, in a perfectly reasonable tone. “Find somewhere else to be, Avery.”
“God,” Avery muttered, exasperated. “Fine, Jesus. Good night.” He laced his hand through Lyra’s hand and towed her out of the room, wanting to get her behind closed doors for a continuation of that kiss, without his mother peeping at them this time.