you belong with me - Olivia Rodrigo

feels like home

I drop the cardboard box in the living room, the thud breaking the silence. Mom joins in, placing her boxes next to mine with a heavy sigh.

She walks to the middle of the room looking around the walls, "Well, feels like home already doesn't it?" she jokes, placing her hand on the big leather couch in the middle of the living room, a deep shade of brown with wrinkles in the corners, "At least we don't have to buy furniture".

This house is the one that my grandpa, Joe, supposedly left for my mother and I. Two weeks ago, mom and I found out that grandpa had passed when she received a call from an unknown number.

It didn't surprise us that grandpa passed, he was like 90 years old. But what surprised us was that the guy in charge of the will told us that grandpa had left the house and his leftover savings for her.

Mom and grandpa haven't talked for 20 years. From what my mom told me, she was madly in love with my dad in high school. But my dad was notorious for getting into trouble around the neighbourhood and stringing my mom along with him.

On their senior year of high school, Mom got pregnant with me. When she told grandpa, he was furious. Abortion was not an option at the time. Grandpa gave her an ultimatum - leave my dad and stay at home to take care of the baby, or leave the house and never come back.

So she ran away with her high school sweetheart.

Thirteen years later she found another woman's lipstick underneath the passenger seat of my dad's car. My mom and I moved away from Westview and moved to Glendale.

Glendale wasn't any better though. At 14 years old, I had to leave my best friends behind and I never really fit in to my new school.

My mom struggled the most. On top of the heartbreak she experienced with my dad wasting more than a decade of her lifetime, she had to work her minimum wage job as a waitress - relying on flirting with pervy old men to gather enough tips to pay rent on time.

She thought about contacting grandpa but never did out of shame.

She could only handle so much stress she started drinking a lot more. At first it was just a few beers on the weekend. Then it was one beer after each shift to unwind. Then it was two beers before bed. Eventually, she drank while on the job and her manager fired her.

We were close to eviction when my mom could no longer pay the rent on time. That was when we received the call that my Grandpa passed and my mom would inherit everything.

It was a gift from the universe and wake up call for my mom. Since then she has sobered and promised to get her life together now that we have a chance. So after three years of living in Glendale, mom and I are back in Westview.

I bring my boxes up to my room. It was cosy, much nicer than the apartment we lived in Glendale. At least here I have some windows. Or rather one large window that was just opposite of the window of my neighbour's bedroom.

Just like how it was in Taylor Swift's "you belong with me" music video.

I took a closer look at my neighbour's window and realised their curtains were open. A girl with headphones was standing next to her bed, brushing her dark brown hair in front of the mirror. She was wearing a white tank top and some blue striped boxer shorts.

She starts moving around, dancing to the song playing through her headphones. She was holding the brush as a mic.

Her dancing progressively begins to get more intense, her eyes closed as she sings along. I couldn't hear anything from her room. I stand on the side of my window, subtly peeking my eyes out and watching her for the next 5 minutes.

Am I being a creep? nah... i'm just simply watching my neighbour through the comfort of my own bedroom.

I take in her appearance, her long hair was slightly messy from her jumping and dancing, her stomach was slightly showing from her tank top riding up and her legs were fit and toned... ok yeah maybe I am being a creep.

I shake my head and close my curtain and continue unpacking.

----

I was nearly done unpacking all of my boxes, though I got distracted when I saw my old memory box. I opened it and picked out the small beaded bracelet, the one that my old friend and I made back in primary school. The beads were randomly coloured but there were letter beads that spelled out 'I <3 JENNA'.

"I'll make one that says 'Jenna' on yours, okay? You can make me one that says 'Y/N,'" Jenna chirps, her bracelet-making kit ready with colourful beads and strings, settling down on the carpet. I join her, crossing my legs, our knees lightly brushing against each other.

"But won't it be confusing if we wear each other's names? People will think I'm Jenna and your Y/N," I suggest, trying to navigate the situation.

"Hmm, maybe, but I want to wear your name. That way, if someone asks, I get to talk about you." Jenna faces me with a gentle smile, and that familiar flutter returns, stirring in the depths of my stomach.

I don't say anything but blush. The love of my life just basically admitted that she wants to tell everyone about me.

"Okay, how about I make one that says 'I <3 JENNA', and you make me one that says 'I <3 Y/N'. That way people won't be confused," she suggests.

I smile, the offer making my heart flutter. "Deal," I say eagerly, reaching for the string.

"Hey Y/N! Come down here!" Mom shouts from downstairs. I put the bracelet back inside the box, tucking it under my bed, and walk downstairs.

Mom is in the kitchen, cleaning out some old kitchenware of grandpa's. She turns to face me when I walk in. "Our next-door neighbour invited us over for dinner. She's a lovely woman, her name is Jennifer. She says she has a daughter around your age."

"And you said yes...?" I reply with my eyebrow raised. Usually, Mom is a lot more reserved around strangers. We don't normally get close to our neighbours. I guess it's because our last neighbourhood was a lot more dodgy than this one.

"She seemed genuine," she shrugs. "I haven't done groceries yet, and it's a free dinner so..." It doesn't sound like a bad idea. Their house is like three times bigger than ours, so they must be upper class. I'd love to taste some rich people food.

"Okay, what time are we going?" I reply.

"I told her we'd come over at 7 pm. So, get dressed."

I glance down at my outfit—navy sweatpants and a black long sleeve. "What's wrong with my outfit?"

Mom heads to her room, and I follow her. "Y/N, just change the pants at least. Wear some jeans or something. Usually, I don't give a fuck about what you're wearing, but they're feeding us, so please make it seem like you've tried."

She starts applying light makeup in front of her dresser mirror. "If we make a good impression, they might just invite us to more dinners in the future."

Okay, that makes sense. Tonight, the goal is to make a good impression on the family next door.