Sunday

October 20, 2019

Two days have passed since the discussion with Peter on Friday. Since then, I'd filled Carmen in on what happened, and she had done the same telling me how things went with Mop Head.

I mean Seth.

When I'd spoken about the boy using his nickname at school, she'd gotten upset over it and asked me to start addressing him by name. It was something I hadn't expected in the least since she had never reacted to the nickname before then.

I guess it's only reasonable, though. I mean, the nickname's terrible and I don't have anything against the guy.

She hadn't filled me in on all the tiny details from their conversation but it was clear when we'd spoken on Saturday night that things were going good between them. I was glad about that, relieved that Gwen and I wouldn't have to worry too much on the matter now. The Peter situation, on the other hand, is a different matter entirely.

"You know darling if you keep that contorted look on your face it just might stick." My mother jokes as she walks into the kitchen dressed in her usual Sunday morning attire of a light pink dress and white ballet flats. She holds a matching clutch purse and her dirty blonde locks of hair are sitting high atop her head in a perfect bun, not a strand out of place.

"Sorry mom, just thinking about the last game." I lie through my teeth and it's not the lie that turns my stomach it's the ease in which I tell it that has me feeling guilty and sick. I'd gotten so used to playing the trick on everyone that it's nothing more than routine at this point.

My mother purses her lips together at the statement. She walks around the kitchen, grabbing the tub of vanilla Greek yogurt from the fridge. "You and your father both, I'll never understand. The game was great! The team won, I don't see why you need to dwell on it." She talks as she prepares her breakfast, scooping some of the yogurt into a small bowl before grabbing the bag of granola from the counter. "Honestly," My mother turns to face me, leaning against the counter as she stirs her breakfast around her bowl. "You both are such perfectionists."

I let my gaze travel over my mother's perfect form once more taking note that there's not a hair out of place. I snort and turn to my own plate of food sitting in front of me.

Wonder where we get it from.

"Something funny?" My father questions, making his appearance in the kitchen at last. He sports a similar suit to mine, something my mother insists on every Sunday. It's so we look like a well-matched family. While I'd inherited my dirty blonde hair from my mother's side of the family, I'd gotten my light brown eyes and set build from my father. It's because of this I'm often told that I'm the perfect mix of both genes. This, with the matching clothing, pulls the entire, picturesque look together.

"Mom thinks we're the perfectionists in the family," I answer his question and my father snorts.

"Oh yes, we're the perfectionists." My father's mouth quirks up in a smile as he sets to work moving around the kitchen and starting a pot of coffee while my mother just tosses us both dirty looks.

"Well, it's true."

The statement pulls a chuckle from my father and he pauses in his routine to give my mother a soft kiss on the forehead. "And where, sweetheart, do you think we picked up such a trait?" They continue back forth after that and I listen to them, content. I love my parents with all my heart, and nothing can ever change that.

Peter's baby blues flash through my mind then followed by his knowing smirk and raven-haired locks. I hear his voice whisper through my thoughts calling me in the tantalizing and teasing tone I know him best for.

Since our discussion on Friday, we'd started hanging out more. I was no longer avoiding him in the halls, and he was taking great joy in teasing me. The boy showed no shame in dropping in on my conversations throughout the rest of the school day on Friday, other party be damned. He'd even shown up at the game on Friday evening. I'd seen him sitting up in the bleachers with Gwen and Carmen cheering just as loud as the two dweebs I call childhood friends. The sight had tightened my chest with emotion and, while I'd never admit it to anyone, even Carmen, I believe them to be the reason we won the game. Their cheers were all I needed to push myself the hardest I'd ever gone before.

After the game that night I hadn't had a chance to speak with any of them, surrounded by my team and a mob of other students all rabid with joy from the win. Which left me very confused as to the text message I'd received that night after returning home. Apparently, Gwen had seen no problem with giving out my phone number to the newest member of our group. We'd messaged one another the entire night after that and had even made plans to meet up on Saturday after my hangout session with Gwen.

My phone buzzes in my pocket then startling me and I check the incoming message.

He's gotta be psychic or something.

Despite the thought I smile at the good morning text, wasting no time in sending a response message.

"Oh, what's this?" My dad's voice draws my gaze from my phone and up to him. The tone in which he speaks, as if he knows the secret, has my heart jumping into my throat. "Is my son sending a good morning message?"

"Wh-no-that's ridiculous." I sputter, leaning back in my chair, nearly tipping it over in the process. "I'm just-ya know-yeah-the team."

Oh my god, Carmen was right. I'm complete shit at lying when I'm caught in the act.

I groan in my thoughts and both my parents get knowing smiles which don't help the situation in the least. "So, who's the lucky gal? When do we get to meet her?" At the question, my body freezes up and I'm unable to meet either of my parent's eyes.

Of course, they think it's a girl.

My hand curls around my phone, knuckles turning white from the tight grip. I grind my teeth together my mouth drying out and making it impossible to speak.

"Honey don't, you're embarrassing him." My mother chastises, neither of them aware of the turmoil running amok inside of me. "I'm sure Steven will tell us all about her when he's ready, isn't that right darling?"

Sweat forms on the back of my neck and I force myself to meet my mother's eyes and smile giving a lame nod.

"Yeah, absolutely."

Her brows knit together no doubt in concern at how I must look but before she can question me on it my father cuts in. "We should head out. Don't want to be late for the service." He said as he pours his coffee into his stainless-steel travel mug. I nod and stand up, shoving my phone into my back pocket, ignoring the alert that I've got a new message from Peter.

"Yeah," I replied. "Wouldn't want that." Before either of them canquestion me further on the 'mystery girl' I rush outside needing nothing morethen to get away from the suffocating air of my home.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this chapter! If you did don't forget to vote and leave a comment below with your thoughts on the chapter!