Hey everyone, I'm currently writing AND editing the story at the same time, so please bear with me. Plus, I'm probably gonna take a stop, cuz I have my mid-year exams inching in. Please enjoy! Rodrick's POV: "How's your band practice going? You've been playing more than usual." Mr. Grant says, forcing a smile. It's been exactly a month since the last get-together, and New Year's Prom is coming up in a month or less. And here she is. Single as fuck.
"Rodrick, Mr. Grant is talking to you." Mom nudges me. I shoot him a sorry smile. "Um, sorry. Uh, yeah, we're doing ok. I think we might have a concert in January." I answer. If only she'd stop smirking at me like that. Like I have something embarrassing on my face. (I don't) "Oh, that's impressive..." he nods, slightly taken aback at the progress. "But, god is it loud." Dad complains.
It's all he does about me.
"My ears started ringing the other day."
They did NOT. He heard me perfectly when I started cursing. Liar.
I just don't get these dinners. Every month, the Grants have dinner with us. They were college friends of my parents so, now I'm stuck here. Facing my Dad from one side, Satan (ft. Slobber) on my other side and the most annoying, wicked, cunning, lying- gorgeous... Drop dead gorgeous woman staring into my soul. Fuck, I think I... I think I'm in love with her, because all I can do is smile like a total dork. She's looking at me. She's looking at me. She's looking at me. She's looking at me. God, just- just kill me already... Don't be stupid, you cornered her last month, why can't you say something now? Because I'm dumb. I'm so dumb I scared the poor girl in an attempt to confess. Then I pretended to not give a fuck. Dickish enough?
But if I were to be completely honest, I'd want to corner her again. But this time? This time, I'd kiss her so hard, so deep. I'd make sure she never forgets it.
She's smiling at me right now. Like she knows what I'm fantasizing about her. She points at the ribs in front of me. "Can you pass those, please?" she asks sweetly. Ok, why is she being nice? I nod, leaning toward the plate and picking it up to hand it to her. My hands are so sweaty the plate slips and land's diagonally on her plate, making the whole thing go down with a crash! and a splat! Right. On. Her. Sweater. She screws her eyes shut as it splatters all over her. I'm still frozen in half shock half terror. Mom shoots me a glare before helping Jodi to get the shards out of the mess. Dad frowns at me, offering Jodi a napkin. "Here, kiddo, take this." "No it's ok, I'm just going to wash it on the sink..." she smiles. "But you'll get drenched!" Mom says, looking seriously ashamed and worried. "It's ok-" "She's right, honey. You'll catch a cold if you do that." her mom says, trying to wipe some of the grease off her chest. "Um, she can borrow one of my sweaters." I hear myself say. I mean, she's not exactly small, she's just flat. Mom nods, "Yeah, go get her a sweater, make sure it's clean. Honey, you go wash your clothes in the bathroom." I launch off, already panicking about which shirt to give her. A clean shirt, a clean shirt, a clean shirt... I spot one folded on my drawers, black and white with spiders and skulls.
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