The bad girl falling for a bad boy?

(12) The bad girl falling for a bad boy?

Sorry I had to upload it twice! I used ONE naughty word, and it put it as Rated-R.

Anyways, since a bunch of you told me not to change the name of the story, I didn't, but I seriously want to. 'The bad girl falling for a bad boy?' seemes a little, I dunno, juvenile? Know what I mean?

Title suggestions are always appreciated!

Chapter 12

Michael's POV

"This is delicious," Dad said enthusiastically after he took a bite of the spaghetti. I completely agreed; the stuff was amazing.

"Thank you, sir," Ivy said politely. "It's my mom's sauce recipe."

"You don't have to be so formal," he told her. "Call me Anderson." Well, that was a good sign. He didn't let many people call him by his first name.

"If you don't mind me asking," my mom interrupted, "how old are you?"

"Twenty-one."

She looked from me to Ivy curiously. "Wouldn't you two have been in high school together?" The high school nearby that I went to was huge, and pretty much everyone in a 40 mile radius went there.

"No, I actually grew up in Dansford."

I was shocked, but I kept my expression neutral. Dansford was a suburb not too far from here, and it was well known as a place where wealthy people lived. Not millionaires or anything like that, just people who had money to spare. It was nothing like where Ivy lived now.

"Why'd you come here?" I asked. That was as close as I could get to asking what I wanted to with my parents sitting right there.

She shrugged. "I just needed a change of scenery." I guessed that meant she left because her parents died there. "Michael told me you guys travel a lot," she said to my parents.

"Oh, yes," Dad said. "We just recently came back from Paris."

Ivy got a wistful expression. "Is it as beautiful as it's rumored to be?"

Mom nodded with a smile on her face. "It's gorgeous. Tell me; where did you two meet?" she asked, changing the subject again.

Uh-oh. Ivy and I shared a glance. "Uh, we met at a club." I tacked on, "A dance club," just in case they thought I meant a strip club or something.

"A...club?" Mom asked Ivy.

She shrugged and smiled. "I like dancing."

Mom dropped it and continued her interrogation. "What do you do?"

"She's a waitress," I said. If she said she was unemployed, my parents would totally get the wrong idea.

Mom paused and hesitated, then said quickly, "I'm not sure I really want the answer to this, but how many piercings do you have?" Dad and I both laughed at her uncomfortable expression. "I'm just curious," she said, blushing slightly.

I was surprised she asked something like that. Usually, she was very polite and avoided awkward situations at all costs. She was very classy, since that was how she was raised.

Ivy laughed, un-offended. "I only have three. One in my eyebrow, one in my tongue, and a bellybutton ring."

My mom let out a breath, glad that this conversation wasn't taking a really awkward turn. "Would you get rid of them? I mean, I like you, but they do put off the wrong message."

"Mom," I groaned. Way to make Ivy feel comfortable. Mom gave me a long lecture when I got my lip piercing, but she's my mom, and everything went in one ear and out the other. I didn't want her to push Ivy away with her annoying personal questions and commentary.