A Year Being the Cheerleader

37.

"Would you like some snacks, dear?" Nate's mother asked sweetly, which is kind of ironic since I am not on speaking terms with her son, to put it lightly.

Yeah, we were supposed to talk, but instead I dropped him off and went home. Why am I here? My parents know his because we have been friends since forever and they called one another and the next thing you know their driver, Chace picked me up and I am here, waiting on the boy who caused this to finish his shower. These are the reasons why I keep things a secret and never mention them. I mean, if my parents didn't know his parents and vice versa, this would not have happened. But then again, this is all his fault. I am putting all the blame on him for this. He is the one that believed those stupid rumors and acted foolishly with them. In my book, that comes under the categories, selfish, disloyal and stupid. And that is putting it in simpler terms. The amount of colorful words I want to shout at him is becoming more appealing and that says a lot because I don't like to talk, show emotion and, much  less, curse. But boy I am willing to change that. I bite my tongue and look up to see his mother's blue eyes piercing into me expectantly.

"Oh, no thanks, Mrs. Saunders," I say, declining her offer with a pleasant smile. There is a hundred percent that even something as small as snacks will not even make it down my esophagus before reappearing. "But it is kind of you to offer."

"No problem," she says, mirroring my smile, but the concern in her eyes is obvious. "But are you sure? You look skinnier than before." Her gaze turns transfixed to my figure. I look down at my clothes, once fitted is now a little slack. It isn't too bad. More room, the better, I guess.

I smile up to her and look away. It is as if I am one of those always on diet girls. Which I am not! She looks at me one more time before she nods and exits the room. She must think I am anorexic or something. It isn't my fault I forget to eat sometimes. From the beginning, food and I weren't good friends so I don't see why I would force myself to like it. I prefer beverages.

As if she was reading my mind, Nate's mom saunters back in with a cup of tea.

"Tea?" She asks simply, playing the role of the hostess and caring mother and wife perfectly. I smile at her purple and light blue sundress. I nod and she gives me the cup of steaming mint tea. I don't know how, but the mint also held a sweet tangy taste which is somewhat unusual. It probably isn't only mint.

Just as she is about to leave, her eyes focus on something. Or rather someone. I turn around to see Nate scrolling casually into the room. He meets my gaze and I feel rather than hear his mother leave the living room even with her heels. The perfect trophy wife, but from years of knowing her and her husband, she is no trophy wife. I really do have a high level of respect for her. I might not be from the wealthiest family, but she, and Nate's father when he is here, always makes me feel at ease in their probably 8,000 square metes residence. Today is just one of the exceptions.

"Can we speak somewhere more private?" I glance around, wondering what more privacy he wants in this large house and his mother is never the excessively nosy mom.

"Why?" He gestures to something in the corner in the dark, but the little dot of white light that anyone would look over indicates that there is a camera. As a matter of fact, there are cameras are in every high and low corner. Talk about security.

"I thought security cameras had a red light," I hear myself saying as I turn to look at him.

I can see he is fighting back a laugh with the fat smile on his face. I roll my eyes. What is so funny? I frown even more and probably seeing how serious I am, swallows his laugh but the smile remains. He just comes in here and in the first minute, I want to roll my eyes again. At this rate, I am positive my eyeballs will be rolling out of my eye sockets. Thinking about it, I cringe. I might laugh when watching horror movies, but it is totally gross in real life. Even in the imagination, in this case.

"You can say the weirdest things sometimes," he says with a smirk.

"How many times are you going to say that?" I ask, my voice teasing as I roll my eyes yet again. I wonder how many eye rolls it takes for your eye balls to literally fall out.

"Just stop it, Amber," he says and I look at him astonished. So he is a mind reader now? It is such a surprise. "And yes, you said that out loud."

"Oh, okay," and just like that, hand curled around his bicep, we make our way to his bedroom as best friends. If he doesn't say or do anything stupid, I am positive the night will end as us being the same.

A/N: A Christmas Eve update. Hope you guys like it. The Feeling by Justin Bieber was the song I was listening to while writing for you all to know. See you guys ASAP. And please show your support by voting and commenting.

1999beauty
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