Changle my plans, Initial

GOOD GIRL PART 2

I quicken my pace and look back. The sound of the heel being pounded into the tiles is heard louder and louder because of my nervousness. I burst into the room where my item was being held. No one pays attention to me or scolds me for being late. The professor just nods at me on the benches and I head for the place. I sit down, and take out books and blank papers so I can take notes.

...

Maybe I should think about going to a birthday party. Maybe it's a bridge to the other side. After the seventh hour of lecturing and exchanging various classrooms and running down the halls due to delays, my workday was over. I packed my bag and headed for home. I hurried home because I didn't want to meet Melany. She probably cooled off during these few hours. She would probably beg me again to say with certainty that I would come. Only I was so stupid that I turned down Melanie's party. Melany is known for the best celebration organizations. I believe it never occurred to anyone to refuse. They probably confirmed that they would come before they even informed the parents about the completely peaceful celebration. At least that's what those who have strict parents did.

I step on the porch of my lovely house, which my mother really takes care of to look exactly as she imagined in her youth. I choose the right key and push it into the lock and turn it a couple of times. I step up the stairs, grabbing two by two stairs, and open the door to my tidy room. I make myself comfortable and invite my mother to the room.

A gentle tap knocks me out of my thoughts and I quickly sit down to make the bed look casual and completely relaxed.

,,Honey, are you in there, you called me?" I take a deep breath and rest my palms on my thighs. I straighten my back to look confident and calm. I don't know why I care at all. Mom always let me do everything like Dad did, but I didn't take advantage of it like some people I know would do. Maybe that's why they allow me things like that, because they know I won't abuse them. They trust me and if I lied to them, I would lose their trust. In front of Melany, I pretended that my parents were stricter to avoid things that should be avoided.

She came in with a cooker full of cake mix. She loved to cook, especially cakes. My mom is quite young. When she got pregnant with me, she was only eighteen.

Her straight, dark brown hair is cut short. I still remember her big brown eyes in flashes as she sang to me as a child. I'm small, like her. My dad always told me I was like my mother. Sometimes I really like it when a special is in the kitchen, but most of the time her skills worry me. What if I gain weight? It's not healthy to be obese, and my mother went on that mission and she's not happy that she doesn't succeed.

I could always talk to her about anything. About friends, family, hobbies, sports, fashion trends, women's things, and guys. My mom tries to be my support because I don't have a sister, just a younger brother, Luca. She was always afraid that I would have no one to talk to about my problems. Especially about women's things. As for the boys, that was not a problem. Mom was a real seductress at my age, she told me all the tactics and secret signs. Although I never kissed or had a real boyfriend, it was interesting to hear about it. It was fun to hear about everything my mom told me. I listened intently and imagined what it all looked like. My head was full of scripts. The stories flew through my mind and made of them the movements and words that the characters uttered in my head.

She sat on the bed next to me and put her hand on my thigh. I raised my head when I felt her touch and looked into her worried big brown eyes. Does she know I need to tell her something? I never understood those parental instincts, especially not my mother's instincts.

,,What's the matter, honey?" I just watch her not knowing how to start. What should I tell her? How will they react? Will he be disappointed?

,,What's wrong?" She leaned forward and put a little pressure on my thigh so she could lean back. He holds the cooker with his other hand and watches me anxiously. That is why my nervousness and insecurity flare-up. When people around me put pressure on me, I feel anxious.