The sound of Betsy mixed in with the music of the Emo Forever playlist on Spotify and heavy rain filled my room as I fed the red fabric into the sewing machine, neatly hemming the dress.
It was Thanksgiving break and I planned to use that time wisely. The Fashion Parade—a name chosen by Kimber after being inspired by Principal Morrison—was happening soon and there were still a few things to get done clothing wise.
"Loren." Mom let out a frustrated sigh behind me. I almost didn't hear her over the noise. "We're supposed to be leaving soon. You're not even dressed!"
"I am," I retorted, eyeing my handiwork on the dress.
"You're in your pajamas."
Getting up from my desk I grabbed a hanger from the closet to hang the dress on.
"We're just going to Grandma's," I pointed out, hanging the dress with the other garments that I had stashed away in my closet.
Holidays were very relaxed in our family. No one really got dressed up, especially on holidays where the main focus was food. What's the point of putting on your best clothes if you were just going to end up with potato salad on your jeans or running into a sticky toddler? It was possible I might've been over dressed in my joggers.
"Get dressed," she demanded before walking away. Over her shoulder she added, "We leave in a hour."
Withholding a groan, I filed through the bottoms in my closet until I found a pair of black skinny jeans. Just as I began to pull off my pants there was a knock at my window, causing me to quickly reverse the action.
I whipped around to see Miles already sliding my window open.
"Why?" I demanded through gritted teeth. My heart was going a mile per minute.
"I called," he said, once he had his feet safely planted on my bedroom floor. How could he be afraid of a Ferris wheels, but be able to scale the side of my house? "I texted, I knocked, I rang the doorbell."
Between my music, Betsy, the storm and Mom running around frantically trying to get everything ready for the trip it was completely possible that we missed all of that.
That still didn't explain why he was desperate to reach me or why he chose to scare the crap out of me by climbing through the window.
"Again," I said, trying to get my heart rate under control, "Why?"
He pulled out his phone, swiping his fingers across the screen a few times before holding it out for me to see. It was a news article about a mud-slide that happened on the only highway out of town.
"Oh," I muttered, the tension in my body relaxing a bit. Then my lips quirked up into a smile. "So, you were worried about me?"
"Yeah," he agreed, looking bashful. "I mean, the thought of you buried under mud definitely rose my anxiety levels."
I didn't know why such a simple act of kindness left me with such a feeling of warmth. Maybe it was just nice to know he cared so much. I moved in to kiss him, but realized he was dripping wet. Grabbing a blanket from my bed, I wrapped him in it.
"You did see the car still sitting in the driveway, right?" I asked him. "You didn't have to climb up the side of the house. In the rain, no less"
"I just needed to see you. With my own eyes," he said. There was a red tint to his cheeks as he shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck. The rare, shy version of him shining through. "I sound like a crazy person."
A smile crept across my face as I stepped closer to him, wrapping my arms around his neck. "No, it's sweet."
He smiled down at me, making my heart fluttered. Then he leaned in to kiss me, stopping before our lips made contact.
"Can I ask you something?" he asked, leaning back to get a better look at me and I nodded in reply. "It's Thursday, correct?"
"Right," I said, slowly. Where was he going with this?
"Then why do your underwear say Monday?"
My eyes widened, the heat of embarrassment filling my cheeks. I wasn't quick enough in pulling up my pants.
"I never wear them on the right days," I answered truthfully. "Also, I lost the rest of the week ."
His brow furrowed, his green eyes narrowing slightly. "How do you lose underwear?"
That was one of the world's greatest mysteries. It's not like I took them off in random places. Before I could explain this to him, my mom called out my name from down the hall. I created distance between Miles and I as if we were doing something we weren't supposed to be.
Mom was tying her pressed out hair up into a ponytail when she appeared in the doorway. It took her hours yesterday to remove her box braids and flat iron her hair. Today it was flawless curled, but that was all ruined by bunching it into a ponytail.
"We're not going to make it to Grandma's—" She paused when she finally looked up and noticed I wasn't alone in my room. "Miles? When did you—never mind," she waved the situation off, clearly in a hurry, "There's an emergency at the hospital and I have to go in. Call your Grandma and let her know she'll have to wait until next year for my peach cobbler."
I barely got an 'okay' out before she rushed down the stairs. The sound of the front door slamming shut echoed through the house.
"Now that we're alone," Miles said, rubbing his hands together as mischievous grin spread across his face. I braced myself for whatever perverted thing he was about to say next. "Tell me more about this peach cobbler."
An unflattering snort escaped me as I laughed. "Really?"
"Really," he agreed, exiting my room. "Worrying about your wellbeing worked up an appetite."
"Not to be rude," I said as I followed him down the stairs. "But don't you have your own family Thanksgiving to get to?"
"My family's not big on holidays," he told me as he entered the kitchen. He glanced around, then pointed at the oven. "Is it in here?"
"Yes." He started pulling the oven door open and I stopped him. "It's meant to be for dessert. Something you eat after dinner and since it's not even noon I don't think it's time for the cobbler yet."
He poked his bottom lip out in an adorable pout. He looked especially cute with my pink polka-dot blanket wrapped around him. "Please? Just a little."
It took a some will power to deny him when he looked at me like that, but I stood my ground. "Nope," I said, prying his grip from the oven handle. "You can have cereal or a Pop Tart."
"You expect me to enjoy a bowl of cereal when there's a delicious homemade dessert just in the oven?"
"Wow," I laughed. "You're dramatic when you're hungry."
He opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by the chime of his phone. He pulled it from his back pocket, glanced at the screen and sighed and shoved it back into his pocket.
"Another 'happy turkey day' text," he explained, shoving his phone back into his pocket. "The most annoying part of any holiday is the constant texts."
I nodded in agreement, glad only a select few people have my phone number. I walked over to the pantry, opening it up.
"So, Pop Tarts or cereal?" I asked him.
"Surprise me," he said. "Where's the bathroom?"
"Straight down the hall," I instructed.
Once he left I pulled out pouch of strawberry Poptarts, dropping them into the toaster. The time it took to warm up the pastries was how long it took Miles to return to the kitchen.
I was so concerned with what he was doing in there that I almost didn't notice when the Poptarts popped out of the toaster.
There was a nagging feeling in my gut telling me he wasn't just in there to relieve himself. Then, there was another nagging voice telling me not to overthink it.
"Looks almost as delicious as peach cobbler," he said with heavy sarcasm after taking a seat at the island as I placed the food in front of him. "My mom always told me to get a woman who can cook."
"I slaved over a hot toaster for almost three minutes and that's the thanks I get?" I said dramatically. "So unappreciative."
He chuckled at me, leaning over the island for a kiss. Before our lips touched his phone rang.
"Are you going to get that?"
My question was answered when he connected our lips and I melted into him, savoring the moment. It didn't last as long as I hoped because his phone went off again and again and again. Someone was clearly desperate to get in touch with him.
Whoever it was, Miles wasn't interested in talking to them. He pulled his phone out, powering it off before turning his attention back to me.
"Now, where were we?"
We didn't get a chance to resume kissing because I got a text.
"Don't look at that," Miles told me.
"It could be my mom," I said, fishing my phone from my pocket to look at the message. "Actually, it's Cameron. He wants to know if you're with me."
"Tell him that I'm not."
My brow quirked up. "Why are you ignoring your best friend?"
"Because he's not as good a kisser as you."
Another text came through and I read it. "He just wants to invite you over for Thanksgiving dinner."
He broke off a piece of the Poptart, tossing it in his mouth. "I know. I don't want to go."
"Why not?" I asked, taking a seat on the stool next to him.
"I see what you're trying to do," he said, eyeing me suspiciously. "You're trying to get me to leave so you won't have to share the peach cobbler."
"Now that you mention it..." I teased.
My phone dinged with another text from Cameron. "He really wants you to come."
Miles let out a heavy sigh. "Fine. But if I'm going, you're coming with me."
I nearly choked on air at his suggestion. "I'm not crashing some stranger's Thanksgiving."
"It'll be fine," he assured me, hopping off the bar stool. "The Fishers are cool."
Under normal circumstances I would've said no, but something about a holiday put me in a particularly good mood. Also, getting to spend more time with Miles was a plus.
"Okay, let's go." I slid off the stool and made my way out of the kitchen.
"You were supposed to say no," he said, frowning. "I thought you were antisocial?"
"Not today," I sang over my shoulder.