PROMISES » #MeToo ✔️

TWENTY-EIGHT // Piper

            I shake my head. "No, no, it's okay. I'm glad you said it. I just need a few minutes. Or days, maybe."

            "Days?" He laughs in disbelief.

            "Yes, days!"

            "Okay," He replies, shaking his head slightly. "I'll wait patiently."

            "I'll try not to keep you waitin' too long," I promise sincerely, genuinely feeling terrible right now that I can't think of something to say other than word vomit.

            "It's fine if you do," He says seriously, running his thumb over the back of my hand, smiling softly. A moment later, he whispers, "We should prob'ly get inside. I feel like your dad is starin' at us."

            I turn to look at the front window, seeing not a single soul standing there. I turn back and give Micah a strange look.

            He chuckles, tugging me toward the door anyway. "I still feel it."

            "Whatever you say," I reply with a sigh, following him to the front door.

            It's surprisingly unlocked, so I walk right in, letting my hand fall from Micah's. Don't get me wrong, it feels nice, but I'm not ready for my sister squealing in my face about him just yet.

            "Hello?" I call out. "I'm home!"

            Mom practically materializes from the kitchen, a drying towel in her hands and smile on her face. Ash appears next from down the hallway, but instead with a dish of macaroni and cheese in her hand. I raise an eyebrow at my sister, to which she smiles brightly and eats another forkful of her –I'm assuming – dinner.

            "Y'all have fun?" Mom asks.

            I nod, smiling widely. "It was awesome. They added lights along the trail."

            "Cool!" She replies warmly, and the silence that hangs over us afterwards is as thick as it is heavy.

            I clear my throat, turning toward Ash. "Micah, this is my sister. Ash, this is Micah." I try to alleviate some of the awkwardness, but Ash only fuels it by waving with a mouthful of macaroni and cheese. I stare at her tiredly, earning a grin. I slowly turn back to mom, eyebrows furrowed. "Where's dad?"

            "He went to go brush his teeth," Mom gestures down the hall. "He should be out in a second."

            As if on cue, dad comes walking down the hallway, his big footsteps hard to miss. Micah immediately steps into his view, assuring dad that he took care of me and that we had loads of fun. I almost laugh at the encounter, but I fight it. I know Micah wants to make a good impression, so I let him have at it. And in a few seconds, they're laughing just as hard as they were before we left.

            After a few minutes of joking around, Micah glances at the clock and says he better head home before his mom starts to worry too much. My mom gushes more about him being a good kid, causing Micah to blush – which I find adorable and rare.

            It's not until Micah is heading out the door that I realize my phone isn't in my back pocket anymore.

            "Hey, wait!" I call out, following him out the door. "I left my phone on the seat I think."

            He raises an eyebrow, fiddling with his keys. "You think?"

            "I think," I repeat, genuinely worried that I might've left it on the hayride.

            I see his face change when he looks at my own expression, it goes softer somehow as he nods toward the truck and says, "Well, c'mon. It won't find itself."

            I smile through a long exhale, following him to his truck to retrieve my phone.

            Thankfully, it is laying on the seat. I must have stuck it under my leg on the drive home and completely forgot about picking it back up when we got out of the truck. I do it a lot in my own car, so it wouldn't surprise me if that's what happened.

            "Thanks," I say as I close the passenger door, shoving my phone in my back pocket. "That would've been bad if you had gotten all the way home with my phone still in there."

            Micah laughs, shaking his head. "It would've just given me a reason to come back over."

            Here comes more word vomit. "You need a reason now?"

            My question catches him off guard as he opens his mouth to reply, but shuts it a short second later, his eyebrows furrowed as he has no idea what to make of what just happened. Me too, honestly. I have no idea what's going on with my mouth tonight.

            Finally, he says, "I mean, I don't like just barging into people's houses, but if you're fine with it then I guess..."

            "I was kidding," I say tiredly, only halfway meaning it. If he needs a hug or wants to hold my hand randomly for some reason, I won't exactly object to him coming over. The hornets might start freaking out, but they seem pretty tame right now.

            "I know," He assures me with a small laugh.

            "I had fun tonight," I blurt without entirely meaning to.

            He raises an eyebrow. "Am I getting your words now?"

            "You're getting an 'I had fun' right now," I laugh nervously.

            I see him smirk, the moonlight showing his features off perfectly. "Do I get a kiss?"

            I think nothing of it, but shake my head. I grab his hand, squeezing lightly. "Maybe next time," I say quietly, leaning forward to hug him.

It all happens in fluid motions from there. I lean away from the hug, pull my hand away from his, and wave 'goodbye' as I head back into the house. I watch his headlights as he backs out of the driveway, turning to head back toward his house. I sigh heavily as I turn the porch light off.

I announce that I'm going to shower, the underlying message of desperately wanting to be alone only known to me. I gather my things and shut the bathroom door behind me, locking it even though I don't need to.

As I'm reaching inside the shower to turn the water on, I'm left defenseless by the onslaught of memories. Memories I was not previously aware existed because I had buried them so far beneath the surface.

Somewhere in the midst of numbly turning the shower water to a somewhat reasonable temperature, Micah's words – "Do I get a kiss?" – are twisted around in my mind until I remember Miles asking me the exact same question. Word for word, only his was menacing. His was meant to cause harm. Micah's wasn't. Right?