Safe And Sound ~Tate Langdon (DISCONTINUED)

0.2

“The world is a filthy place. It's a filthy goddamn horror show…,” the boy sitting on the couch opposite my father told him. 

“Scout, what do you need?” my father asked. 

I felt intrigued. The boy with the curly, blond hair was looking at me. He seemed to be studying my, as I was to him. I’d interrupted their session because I needed to find something important. Something that was put in a different box by mistake. 

“Do you have any knowledge on the whereabouts of the box containing my laptop and the cables? Neither mum nor I can obtain it and she said to ask for your input,” I explained. 

“That could have gone a lot quicker if you used shorter words. But I like the way you speak,” my father’s patient told me. 

He had his legs crossed under him as he sat and picked at the hole ripped in the knee of his light coloured jeans. The top of his light and dark green striped sweater had been pulled down to reveal the collar of a white shirt. His black Converse appeared to be worn in but not yet worn out. His brown eyes stared up at me, his eyes diverting my attention away from the heavy bags under his eyes for a moment. 

“Scout,” my dad said, once again grabbing my attention. 

“I beg your pardon,” I said, turning to look at him. 

“I said, the box may be in the corner of my office but you’ll need to wait until my session with Tate is over,” he informed me. 

“Your name is Scout?” Tate asked, amused but not laughing. 

“Jean-Louise actually,” I notified him. 

“That is a terrible name,” he said with a genuine smile. 

“It’s from ‘To Kill A Mockingbird’,” I explained. 

“Scout,” dad said then gestured to the door. 

I rolled my eyes before walking out, closing the door behind me, “does he know where it is?” mum asked as I entered the kitchen. 

“He says it’s probably in his office but I have to postpone my search until his session is over,” I said then sat at the bench. 

“I saw his client as he walked in. Handsome young man,” she informed me. 

“I guess so,” I shrugged. 

“You think he’s cute,” mum said in excitement. 

In my seventeen years I had only once before shown interest in a boy. His name was Brian Summers and we were six. I don’t remember much about him but mum tells me I was totally “loved up”. Apparently I would always find a way to divert conversation to him and was utterly heartbroken when I saw him kiss Taylor Jordan. I understood why mum was so overjoyed but I didn’t really understand the reasoning and concept behind love. 

“I still can’t fathom why this is a big deal,” I expressed. 

“Because this is your first crush as a full grown teenager and it’s exciting,” she gushed. 

“It’s not a crush mum. I’ve literally looked at him for about one minute. And all I did in that time was asses him. Yes he is attractive but it is not a crush. You need to at least have a proper conversation with a person before you develop a crush,” I cleared up. 

“Ok-ok,” she said with a laugh. “No need to get mad”

I went to say something but closed my mouth and took a deep breath. An old lady walked into the kitchen with a wicker basket tucked under her arm. She placed the basket on the kitchen bench before looking at me.