Under The Mistletoe

13| Flipped

Chapter 13: Flipped (Hope's POV)

My doorbell rang sharp at eight o'clock just as I finished writing a sticky note that told my dad I was out with Blake and left it on the fridge. I pulled my jacket on, flicking my hair over my shoulder while grabbing my phone and keys, then running out. 

I opened the door and he was standing on my porch. He looked at me head to toe, then his forehead creased in confusion. "Where's the food?" he asked. 

"I'm too scared, let's just hang out," I shrugged. 

He facepalmed. "Get the food, we'll toss it at the house then drive by. We're not walking," he chuckled. 

"Okay, take my phone." I tossed it at him. He caught it with ease and then went back inside, grabbing the sandwiches I made and wrapped them in tinfoil. I locked the door on my way out, taking my phone from his hands and climbing into the car with him. "It's cold, it's cold, it's cold. Turn the heat up," I said, cranking it up all the way. 

"Don't do that," he smacked my hand away before turning it down a bit. I rolled my eyes, looking out the window as we drove, catching the shadow of the car under the street lights. We spent the ride there in silence. "Give it to me," he said, pulling up in front of the house. "I can go give it," he shrugged. 

"Are you stupid? Maybe the guy is just protective of the place, it is where he's living. Just toss it as far as you can and yell," I suggested. 

He sighed, rolling down the window and sticking his upper half out the window. He tossed it and it landed on the front porch. This is what happens when you play football growing up. You can throw it like that. 

"Do you still play football?" I asked out of curiosity. 

"For the team?" he asked, climbing back in and rolling up his window. 

"Yeah," I nodded. 

"Yeah, I still play." 

"You were trying out for captain, I think. When I left." 

"Yeah, I've been captain since then," he said casually. 

"You've been captain for three years?" I gaped at him. 

"Yeah," he said, looking out the window. "He isn't coming to get it. What do we do?" 

I shrugged, looking through his window, "I don't know. Wait, maybe?" After about five minutes of silence, there was a sudden banging on my window. "Oh, my God!" I yelled, instinctively locking the door as quick as I could. 

"What the fuck are you kids doing here again?!" the guy yelled at my window. Before we could even answer, he started trying the door. 

"Uh, Blake?" I mumbled, climbing out of my seat and sitting on the controller, my feet on my seat. 

"I'm driving," Blake said, shifting gears. I hesitantly climbed back into my seat, rolling the window down just an inch. "Hope!" 

"Shut up," I said to Blake. "Hey!" I yelled at the guy. He glared at me. "We left sandwiches at the door for you." He took a step back and looked at me in confusion. "Are you open to bargaining?" 

"Hope, what the hell are you doing?" Blake asked. 

"Making a deal," I glanced at him. "Can I roll this down?" The guy nodded gruffly. "Are you gonna let us hang at the treehouse if we bring you food every time we come here?" 

The guy thought for a second, looking around. "You can't tell the cops I'm stayin' here." 

"Are you a criminal?" Blake blurted out. I turned to him, smacking my hand over his mouth.