Bad Boy, Good Boy (boyxboy)

33 - hello 3

A/N: Hello.

This story will hit 500K soon, I can't believe it. I remember when I started this, nervous and a little sad. I just wrote whatever came to mind, and here we are. The positive feedback hasn't stopped. I'm grateful for every comment, for every reader. Not to be dumb, but hopefully my name will one day be on the shelves of different bookstores with stories and poems in different languages. *manifesting *

Happy reading, x)

Chapter 33 - hello 3

He knocks on the door, I shake my leg next to him, staring at the beautiful boy. Is he really introducing me to his mother? Does he have a death wish? And by that I mean, does he seriously want me to die from embarrassment of how unfit and unprepared I am to meet her?

"Why are you knocking? She's your mom," I say suddenly.

"Today we are guests," Nolan replies, grinning like always. His grin melts my heart, makes my heart drum against my ribcage. "Actually, I'm just wondering whether she's home or not."

My eyebrows shoot up. "She might not even be at home? Am I like an intruder or something?"

Nolan gives me a look that insists I shut up.

I know, I'm sorry - when I'm nervous I can't help but overthink. It's what I do. It's what I'm good at.

If you need someone to overthink, call me. I can do it on command also. Even more so if you pay me.

The house stays quiet and Nolan snakes the keys from his pocket. He unlocks the door and lets me step in. I feel like I am on enemy territory or some sacred land no one was meant to see in the first place.

It looks like a....house.

I don't know what I had expected. Maybe some flying monster with their long canines dripping blood, ready to nip at my neck, nip at my heels as I try to run. Had I expected fireworks? Had I expected a grand welcome?

This house feels oddly normal.

Like I am welcome and unexpected at the same time.

"Perfect," says Nolan and closes the door behind us. He urges me to walk farther in. "We can bake the pie and then wait for her."

"Do you have an apron?" I ask and wander a couple of steps deeper into the house. I can see the kitchen cupboards and an island stretching right into frame. I think there's a door leading outside from the kitchen. Is there a terrace? Is there a garden? There must be. Is she a gardener? We should've bought soil, or flowers, or pots.

We can go back. There's still time.

Nolan rolls his eyes at me. "The house is not going to bite you."

"Yeah, but you might."

"I might," he echoes and snaps his teeth in my direction, his eyes honey-sweet.

A shiver runs up my spine. Way to de-escalate the situation.

There's a hanger to the left, full of clothes. There are shoes on the ground, scattered. Some are Nolan's. Boots and slippers and trainers. A staircase leads upstairs, in front of it a door, probably the bathroom. And then there's the kitchen, golden and inviting. I bet it smells like a bakery. To my right is the living room. I peek in and see armchairs in front of the TV. The sofa is pushed against the wall by the window. There are bookcases filled with magazines, books, even cups of pencils and pens, markers, and even a ruler sticking out of one of the cups.

This is...nice.

"Come on!" Nolan calls and I notice he's already in the kitchen, setting stuff on the island.