PROMISES » #MeToo ✔️

FOURTEEN // Piper

A/N: Ya girl has entered this story into the Wattys. I'm obviously not expecting much, but it never hurts to just tag the story anyway. Here's another update! I've been a writing fool lately.

HOW SHE LETS HER GUARD DOWN

The drive back home isn't quiet at all. I have twenty one pilots blasting through my speakers, specifically Holding Onto You at the moment. After talking with Micah about them, it made me realize I haven't listened to them in a really long time. I missed it, so here I am jamming out and fumbling over my words while Tyler raps them out perfectly.

            I lean forward and turn the volume down as I'm pulling into my driveway, so I don't scare myself tomorrow morning when I get in here for school. Mom's car is back in the garage, so I'm guessing she's been back from grocery shopping for a while. It's almost ten at night.

            Goodness, I hope I don't have homework.

            I exit my car, being sure to grab my keys – I forget them more often than not, unfortunately – and walk through the garage to get into the house.

            I press the button to put the garage down as I get inside the kitchen, watching to make sure it goes down. Mom is nowhere in the kitchen or living room, so I'm assuming she's back in her bedroom.

            I grab my choir hoodie off the back of the chair in the living room as I walk past, then tossing it on my bed when I walk past my room. I kick my shoes off while I'm at it, then pushing my glasses to set on top of my head.

            "Mom!" I call out as I walk further down the hall toward her bedroom. "I'm home," I tell her when I get to her room, seeing her sitting up in bed reading a book.

            She smiles. "How was it?"

            I smile back, shrugging. I walk into her room and sit on the edge of her bed. "It was fun. Cold."

            She nods, raising an eyebrow. "I see... Who's hoodie is that?"

            My face goes pale, and I feel my stomach drop. Shit, I'm still wearing Micah's hoodie. His goddamn-stupid-smells-good-freaking-hoodie.

            "Oh..." I pause, tugging on the strings. "It's Micah's."

            She nods again, closing her book. Shit, I'm not in trouble, am I? I'm so stupid, I shouldn't have took his hoodie, much less worn it home—

            "Is Micah the boy who came to the yard sale last weekend?"

            I nod, looking up at her with wide eyes. I'm trying my hardest not to freak out right now, and to make matters worse, she smiles at me. Her motherly-all-knowing-smile.

            "Ah," Her smile turns into a grin. "He's a nice kid. His mom and I talked for a bit."

            I swallow thickly, not sure if I want her to say more or if I want her to just leave it alone. I don't get a choice, though, because she continues speaking anyway.

            "So is he a friend...or...?" She raises her eyebrows, but she actually doesn't look mad. I'm confused.

            "He's...he's a friend, mom. Just a friend," I chuckle nervously, willing myself to stop shaking. I've been an anxious mess tonight.

            "But he gave you his hoodie..." She trails off, narrowing her eyes and smirking. She hums in surprise before opening her book and beginning to read again.