Innocent | Eddie Munson x OC

Chapter 5

Honestly, I was growing more and more concerned the closer we got to my house. Eddie had taken over my stereo the whole drive, drumming wildly on his surroundings no matter how many times I tried to allude to being distracted. He couldn't drive, apparently, and hitched rides from Gareth in their "metal van" every morning. He didn't much like when I told him every van was a metal van.

I didn't really mind his company as a driving buddy, all things considered. However, every loud bang and air guitar solo made me realize just how out of his element he was going to be in my mother's house. Hopefully, there would be no feud, no hurt feelings, and no issues. I stole a quick look at him from the corner of my eye.

"Here comes the best part, Milo. I've gotta blast it." He rolled the volume dial up further than I'd ever been tempted to. "3, 2, 1-"

And another air guitar solo began, flailing around in my passenger seat as if he were being possessed.

"You're gonna give yourself whiplash." I deadpanned.

My mother would be beside herself.

Lucky for me, as we pulled onto my street, it seemed my mom wasn't home yet. It was then that I realized I was home an hour earlier than usual, and ditching school was not gonna be a good look.

"Wow, Moore. I had no idea you lived in the garden district," Eddie murmured, all but pressing his nose into the glass. "especially based on what you're driving."

"I don't- hey! I bought her with my own wage from countless horrific hours of babysitting the Davis kids. No easy task," I defended, patting the dash affectionately, as if to let her know he doesn't mean it.

He raised his hands in surrender, still focused on the scenery. "Hey, you're the one with the car. More power to you."

I pulled into my typical space, put her in park, closed my eyes and gripped the steering wheel tight. Calm. Down. Eddie was great. Everyone would love him. I've come around to him, they would, too. I opened my eyes.

"We don't gotta if you don't wanna." Eddie sang quietly.

He was leaning on his hand, looking entirely sincere. A new urge occurred- all I wanted was to keep looking at his big, round, deeply brown eyes.

"No- why do you say that?" I asked, furrowing my brow.

"You are white knuckling the steering wheel, bud." He pointed out.

I let go.

"It's fine, I get it. I'm not exactly someone you bring home to the parents. Especially really rich, really conservative parents." He shrugged.

Just the fact that he was being so blasé about it made me a little sad. How many times had he been in this situation? He didn't deserve to be treated that way on first impression. He was such a cool, nice guy. Dear god, if he could read my thoughts he'd never shut up.

"No, it's ok." I shrug. "She'll just find something else to make my fault anyway, so if you don't care- I don't care. But you don't care, right?"

He gave a half smile. "Nah. I only care what you think."

I flush, hobbling out of my car in a rush. I could swear I heard him laugh at me from the passenger's seat, but I chose to pretend my awkward tendencies were unnoticeable.

He let out a low whistle behind me as I opened the front door, dropping my bag off next to the stairs and gesturing to follow me to the kitchen. As he took in the scenery I grabbed our phone off the counter and a pizza brochure.

"Wait! Wait, wait, wait," He called, struggling.

I turned to find him desperately wedging his shoes off, one caught on the other. I giggled at the sight, coming back over and kicking my own shoes off as well.