A/N: This is kind of part 2 of the last one because it was getting to be waaaay too long for my liking. So here's the football game/not date :))
poeturie YES DOUBLE UPDATE BECAUSE I LOVE YOU
HOW THE ICE IS (FINALLY) TRULY BROKEN
Micah and I decide to meet at the same place we met that one day a month ago in the parking lot, where he normally parks his truck.
Since the game doesn't start until seven, I decide on going home and maybe taking a nap before going back to the school.
My mom isn't home when I walk in, which doesn't surprise me, but also means that I go to my room and lay down for a nap without feeling guilty. It's both good and bad because I get to sleep, but I have no clue what time I'll wake up, and I really shouldn't sleep anyway. I have stuff to do, but oh well.
When I wake up, it's only six fifteen. I actually got a solid two hours of sleep.
I sit up and smooth out my clothes, looking around for where I kicked my shoes off. I slip my feet into them and grab my phone off the charger, walking out of my room.
I make my way down the hall, searching for my choir hoodie and keys. I find my keys, but get the complete mess scared out of me by my mom standing in the kitchen doorway.
"Good lord," I breathe, placing my hand over my rapidly beating heart. "When did you get home?" I nearly scream. "You nearly scared the shit outta me."
She laughs, "About half an hour ago. You were passed out when I checked on you. Where're you goin'?"
"Football game," I tell her, placing my phone in my back pocket.
"Ah," She nods, then pauses, her eyebrows furrowing. "But it's Thursday."
"It's a JV game," I clarify.
"Oh," She says, realization taking over her features. "Are you singin'?"
I shake my head, "Nope," I shrug. "Just wanted to go. JV doesn't get a lot of support."
She nods, "Alright, well, have fun. I'm gonna get groceries while you're out. D'you need money for food?"
I shake my head, "I think I've got some in the car." I'm too nervous to eat.
"Here, take a ten just in case," She turns on heel and grabs her purse, producing a ten dollar bill for me in record timing.
I take it anyway, knowing she'll protest if I don't. I tuck the bill into my front pocket, giving her a quick hug before heading out the door.
The drive to the school only lasts fifteen minutes, and when I pull into the student parking lot, I see Micah standing in the middle of the parking space next to his truck. I guess he's saving it for me. What a dork.
He waves, smiling brightly when he sees me. I wave back, laughing to myself because he's so stupid in a cute way. He steps aside so I can pull into the parking space without hitting him.
I turn off the engine, reaching for the door handle only to find he already has the door opened for me.
I swallow down the nervous lump in my throat and thank him, stepping out of my car. He shuts the door softly, waiting as I press the lock button on my keys.
Then we start walking toward the stadium, and at first there is absolutely no conversation. Until he speaks up.
"Did you take a nap when you got home?" He asks, and I notice he's got his hands stuffed in his hoodie pocket. He rarely ever does that.
I nod, answering his question. "Yeah. Like two hours. It felt good."
"I bet," He chuckles, nodding. "Do you know who's singing the anthem tonight?"
I hum in thought, "I dunno. Probably Emily—Wait, Mic, where are we going?" The question comes out sounding far more urgent and panicked than I wanted, and I immediately want to crawl in a hole.
Thankfully, though, he doesn't make a huge deal out of it. "Just the back way."
That doesn't sound comforting at all, dude. "Why the back way?"
"So you don't have to pay for a ticket, duh," He teases like it was obvious beforehand.
"Micah," I sigh, placing my hands on my hips.
He stops walking, mimicking my actions. "Piper."
I want to glare at him, but he's smiling too wide. "I can pay for a ticket."
"I know you can," He nearly laughs. "I can, too. But why pay if you don't have to?"
I purse my lips, narrowing my eyes at him. Then my ears catch up with my brain and I start laughing.
"What's so funny?"
"That rhymed, what you said," I snicker. "But fine, we can go the back way."
"A grammar nerd at its finest," He grins.
I roll my eyes, "Yes, very much so. Are we goin' or not?"
He laughs again, and I swear to God if he does that all night I might fall in love.
Kidding, but his laugh is a pretty, pretty sound.
Oh my god, I sound like one of those girls in a cliché novel. Make it stop.
When we get inside the school, Micah tells me his back way to the game it out the gym doors and around the back of the school. I nearly roll my eyes, and instead lead him to the choir room.
"What are we doing?"
"Goin' the back way," I say obviously. "It's quicker to go through here."
If you could see Micah's face, you'd think I just asked him to trespass illegally with me.
"Is he even in there?" Even his voice sounds worried.
I shrug, "Probably not, but it's okay. The choir door doesn't lock anyways."
"You're insane."
I chuckle, pulling the choir door open. "Kidding, he's here."
"Who's here?"
I turn, smiling widely at my choir teacher sitting at his desk in his office. "Hey Miller."
Miller smiles back. "Hey," He nods toward Micah. "Who's the boy?"
I turn my head to the side, suddenly remembering I have Micah standing next to me, and sometimes Miller is iffy about non-choir students being in his room after hours.
"Oh, that's Micah," I nod my head toward the sheepish looking boy. "We're going to the JV game."
Miller nods, glancing at Micah. "Then why aren't you goin' through the gates?"
"Oh," Micah pauses to clear his throat. "I'm a Varsity player, sir, and we get in the JV games for free. Moral support."
Miller nods again, narrowing his eyes. I raise my eyebrows, almost glaring at him because if he makes a joke, I swear to god...
Miller – this is the reason everyone calls him the Fine Arts Dad, by the way – is known for picking on students who have boyfriends or girlfriends. In his own words, "I don't care who you're datin', if you're gay or not, you shouldn't be making out on my hallway." Now obviously the Fine Arts hall isn't totally his hall, but he will call you out if you decide to hang around on it with you 'boo-thang'. God forbid you're one of his students, too. He's known to stand right next to the couple and quietly sip his coffee, his only purpose being to make the situation totally awkward. He does a good job at it, too.
Thankfully, Miller leaves it alone and lets us go out the back door of the choir room. Apparently he was about to leave because he just got out of a meeting, so we'll have to go back out through the main gates, but that's okay.
"This is so much shorter," Micah breathes, pulling the back gate open for us to step through. It's literally a two minute walk from the back of the choir room, opposed to the ten minute walk from the gym.
"Told ya," I chuckle, thanking him quietly. "That's the way we walk when we come out and sing at Homecoming."
He nods, pulling the gate closed behind him. "That's cool," He says, and it gets quiet after that.
We seem to have a lot of these quiet moments, but somehow it never manages to feel awkward. It does for me, but I know it's mainly because I'm still terrified one of the worst case scenarios is going to come true.
But it won't, I remind myself as we're walking along the outside line of the track, toward the home side of the bleachers. I'm safe, I repeat those two words over and over in my head because it is true. I'm fine, there's tons of people out here, it's okay. I'm safe.
"Where d'you wanna sit?"
I blink, turning to glance at Micah. His eyes are trained on the bleachers, scanning and looking for a decent spot. He purses his lips slightly in thought, and I have to look away before he catches me staring.
"Um, there's an open spot right there," I point up toward the middle of the bleachers, above the student section – which is full of freshmen, sigh.
He nods, "That's cool, c'mon."
We walk up the bleachers toward the empty space. It's a lot more open than I had thought, so we only take up a small space.
Almost as soon as we sit down, the announcer comes over the speaker saying that the National Anthem will be sung in a few minutes. The music comes back on a short second later, and it's AC/DC's Highway To Hell.
"I forgot they played good music at these games," I laugh, humming along.
Micah looks at me strangely for a moment. "You like AC/DC?"
I raise an eyebrow, then fully singing the words to get my point across. A look of surprise crosses over his face, and then he grins.
"I grew up on Classic Rock," I clarify. "My dad – before he started traveling so much – and I—We would go downstairs and he'd bring out his old records and record player and we'd—God, we'd sit and play records for hours. I remember we accidentally stayed up until like three in the morning on a school night and we were both zombies the next day."
Micah laughs, turning to his body is sort of angled toward mine. I try not to freak out about it. "How do you accidentally stay up until three in the morning?"
I shrug, scooting back and turning my body toward him as well, so it didn't look like I was completely scooting away from him. "We listened to Pink Floyd's entire discography, and got a little carried away into Boston, and...you get the picture."
He nods, smirking. "Yeah...yeah, I get it. So—"
He doesn't get to finish, though, because the announcer comes back on telling us to stand for the National Anthem a second later. It is Emily singing, as I figured it would be. She usually takes the JV games because her sister is the kicker or something for the team.
"So," Micah begins after we've sat back down. The game still has a few more minutes before it starts, I think. "What I was saying was, what other music do you listen to?"
Bless this boy for being able to create small talk. "Um, pretty much anything," I shrug, laughing when he gives me a sarcastic are-you-freaking-kidding-me face. "Seriously, I do!"
"Okay," He breathes, chuckling. "So, classic rock, what about twenty one pilots?"
I feign confusion. "Isn't that the ukulele screamo dude and the drummer?"
I swear, I thought Micah was going to get up and leave. My comment did make him laugh though. Score.
"I'm messin' with you. Yes I know them. I like Vessel more than I do Blurryface, though."
He looks shocked as he places a hand over his heart for dramatic effect. "How dare you."
I shrug, trying hard not to laugh. "I like the pastel floral era, sue me," I pause, furrowing my eyebrows. "What about you, huh? Ed Sheeran?"
He laughs, "Yes, I know Ed Sheeran. My lil' sister loves him."
I smirk, "Your sister has good taste. How old's she?"
"Fourteen," He replies, nodding. "She's a freshman here."
I nod, my eyes glancing down at the student section. "Is she in the midst of all that?" I ask, gesturing toward the swarm of fourteen year olds, and the occasional sprinkle of sophomores sitting toward the front.
Surprisingly, though, he shakes his head. "Nah. She doesn't like football. I think she's at some coffee place in McDonough square right now."
I furrow my eyebrows, tilting my head. "Doing what?" It just seems weird to me that a fourteen year old would be in a coffee place in McDonough on a Thursday night.
"Reading," He replies, shaking his head. "She's weird. She likes reading in weird places." Even though he says she's weird, I can tell he really loves her. He seems like he'd be a good big brother.
"That's cute," I smile. "I remember when I could do that."
The game starts then, but Micah doesn't seem to be paying that much attention to it, which confuses me.
"What happened?" He asks, genuinely curious.
I chuckle nervously, shrugging. I'm not giving him a sob story right now. No way. "Eh, I just got too busy for it, I guess." Simple enough. Good enough that he moves on from it, and starts watching the game.
I try to focus on it, but it's hard to when I really have no idea what's going on. And yes, I have my glasses on, so I can see. I just have no idea what's happening.
"I actually don't know anythin' about football," I say quietly, unsure if he's too focused on the game for small talk.
He's not, go figure.
He looks over and smiles at me – I can't breathe. Is that a normal thing? Probably a mix of my lingering nerves and being flustered – and then, to my complete surprise, starts explaining the game to me.
He's right, football isn't that difficult to understand. But his explanation of it doesn't make me love it any more. It does make me love seeing the way his eyes light up when he's talking about something he loves doing. That's the definite upside to this.
When he finishes his explanation, it's halftime. Most people flock over to the concessions, but some stay in the bleachers to watch the halftime show with the band and color guard.
The sun has gone down by now, and it's getting a little chilly out, which is bad for me because I completely forgot to grab my choir hoodie earlier. My mom distracted me.
"Hey—Are you shivering?" Micah's incredulous words bring me out of zoning out spell.
I shrug, glancing over at him. "A little," I admit, "but if you give me your jacket, so help me God."
"Okay, but you're shivering," He says, raising one eyebrow.
"Shut up," I roll my eyes. "I'm prob'ly cold because I haven't eaten," I chuckle quietly, realizing I should probably go get something from the concession stand.
"You get cold when you don't eat?" He questions, furrowing his eyebrows.
I nod, "I have like—it's not anemia, but I have like a sort of iron deficiency? It's hard explaining. But yes. I get cold if I don't eat."
He doesn't say anything, but instead he stands and takes his hoodie off. I go to protest, but he simply tosses the hoodie on me, and then disappears down the bleacher stairs. I glare at the back of his head as he walks, knowing damn well he's probably going to buy me something. I don't have the energy to run after him, sadly, or else I'd be chasing his ass down right now.
I grumble to myself as I watch the end of the halftime show, his warm hoodie in my lap. I refuse to put it on.
Well, I did refuse. And then the wind starts blowing and I have no choice. It's freaking cold out here.
When Micah returns to his spot next to me, he has two baskets of burgers and fries. I stare at him weirdly because he also has a bottle of water and sweet tea. He hands me one basket and the bottle of sweet tea, and he takes the other basket with the water. I'm still staring at him dumbfounded as he eats his fries, and it takes him a second to notice.
"What?" He asks with a literal mouthful of fries.
I wince, scrunching my face up. "Ew, dude. Don't talk with your mouth full."
He laughs loudly, swallowing his food before he speaks again. "Okay, what? You said you have an iron deficiency, there's iron in red meat, which is a burger. So eat."
I blink. Is he serious? I'm still staring at him, and it's starting to concern him.
"Are you okay?" He asks, and he looks purely terrified like I'm actually worrying him right now.
I nod, shaking my head and blinking rapidly to quit staring at him. "Yeah, just..." I pause, picking up a fry and nibbling on it. "No one's ever really...done this for me before, y'know?"
He furrows his eyebrows, "That's weird. I don't know why they wouldn't." He pauses, chuckles, "I don't want you passin' out or anythin', so you gotta eat more than a fry, Pipes."
I smile stupidly then, picking up the burger and taking a bite out of it. He laughs when I give him two thumbs up as I'm still chewing. He takes a bite out of his burger, and then mimics my actions from a second before, making me giggle.
He's a dork. A huge dork.
I mainly eat the fries, and about half of my burger, but it's hard to eat it all when you feel like he's staring at you – which he's not. He's watching the game. But try telling my anxiety that. – and the entire stadium, too. They're not. No one's looking at me. But that's difficult for my head to grasp.
"I'm missing Arrow for this, so we better win," Micah grumbles at one point, making me raise both eyebrows.
"You watch Arrow?"
He looks at me so quickly I'm genuinely worried he might've gotten whiplash. "You do?"
"Hell no," I laugh, shaking my head. "I watch Supernatural. It comes on after Arrow."
"Ohhh," He nods. "I think I saw one episode of that once."
"Same for me with Arrow," I chuckle, making him narrow his eyes playfully.
"How come you never watch it?"
"Because it comes on too early."
"Oh, come on. One hour earlier than Supernatural. You can't turn your TV on one hour earlier?"
I raise an eyebrow, "You can't leave your TV turned on a hour later to watch Supernatural?"
He pauses, smirking and narrowing his eyes slightly. "Touché."
We bicker back and forth about which show is better until the end of the football game. We win, surprisingly, and by the skin of our teeth. Emily's sister kicked the ball and got us an extra point or two (again, I don't know football. Even after Micah explained everything).
I'm still wearing his hoodie when we make it back to our cars, and he doesn't ask for it back.
I don't give it back to him.