Dear Scott

Chapter Eighteen

Dear Scott,

You know those hearts?

Those swirly loopy ones

Just like the quotes all say

Well I find them on my papers

 Swirling around on note cards

Dancing across my homework

I draw them everywhere 

Anxious excitement flows 

Spilling out uncontrollably

From the chaos of my mind

To the blankness of the page

Scott, what would you think

If you saw them

Saw the secrets of my heart

While I’m waiting around

Waiting around for you 

“I have to run inside real quick,” I told Scott, as we walked up in front of my house. 

“I’m coming.” He said, taking a step towards the path to my house.

“You can wait in the car if you want…” My voice sounded confused. Why would he want to run inside with me? My house wasn't that interesting… not to mention the fact that my parents were probably home.  

“I don’t want,” he laughed, following me up the front path. Why the hell not, I wondered.

I took the stairs slowly, giving him time to change his mind and turn back to the car. The idea of him being in my living room while I ran upstairs to my room for money gave me goosebumps. He’d probably end up sitting there being interrogated by my parents. Gah! Just the thought of my mother getting her hands on him was enough to make me want to argue him out of coming in. I held my breath as I reached forward, resting my hand on the doorknob, getting ready to tell him to go back to his car.  

“You have to twist it and push the door open,” he teased. 

I rolled my eyes; he had no idea what he was getting himself into. I had no idea how my mother would handle herself, after the argument we had just before I left for our walk, I didn't even want to go back home. But I needed money for Alterra and the only way to get it was to man up and grab my wallet from my room.

Pushing the door open, I felt the heated air of the house rush into my face. “I’m home.” I called out, eager to get in and get the hell out as quickly as possible. 

“Hey, Missy!” my dad greeted from his armchair in the living room. 

Kicking my shoes off, I neared the living room as Scott closed the front door. He followed close behind, leaving his shoes on as he came up behind me, resting his hand on my shoulder.

“Daddy, this is Scott,” I swallowed hard, turning to gesture to Scott. A slight tickle danced along the insides of my stomach, a nervousness I hadn't felt before. It was a mix between dreading my dad meeting Scott and wanting to throw up with the fear that my dad would hate him. 

“Ah! The famous Scott!” He stood, taking four large strides towards us. “It’s nice to finally meet you,” he smiled genuinely as he firmly took Scott’s hand in his and shook it. 

“It’s nice to meet you too sir,” Scott nodded his head, trying to look more mature. I thought I was going to barf, my hands suddenly shaking with embarrassment. It was time to grab my stuff and get out before either of them said something I'd regret later.