How I Became the 4th Member of a (former) All-Boy Band

I Didn't Even See It Coming

decided to jump the gun and get on with it.

oh, and also, i like chips. chips are great. with anything. i mean the potato chips. not the fries. the chip chips that you eat when watching movies and have to turn the subtitles on just to understand what's going on...

congrats, you just wasted thirty seconds of your time reading this. (sorry, being mean today)

Skye’s POV:

Sean and I sat on the couch at my place, staring blankly at the tv screen. Or, I was staring blankly at the screen while he was kissing me. It’s not like I didn’t like it when he kissed me, but I just wasn’t… feeling it.

“You’re so sexy,” he whispered into my ear.

I didn’t respond, but I turned my head. He backed up, frowning at me.

“What’s wrong?”

I shook my head. “Nothing, I’m just…”

“Tired?” He sighed. “You’re always tired lately.”

I grimaced to myself, because he was right; that was my excuse for him whenever I wanted to stop making out. Something was wrong. Being with someone you like wasn’t supposed to feel this tiresome and awkward, was it?

“Sorry,” I muttered.

He shrugged, turning to face the TV as well.

I shifted, not knowing what to say. I snuggled close to him, hoping something will take this awkwardness away. He had acted all normal and polite when we met up again after the weekend, so I was sure I’d imagined him with some girl at the gig with the boys. “Hey, Sean?”

“Yeah?”

“What… Why did you ask me out that day?”

He turned to look at me, his blue eyes wide and confused. “Because I like you.”

“No but, what do you like about me?” I laid my head on his shoulder. Normally, I’d just let it go and say never mind, but I really wanted to know the answer.

“Because…” He lifted a hand and tugged on my colourful hair. “You’re awesome. Cool, different from other girls I’ve dated. You don’t give a crap what people think about you.” He pecked my lips. “And you’re beyond pretty.” He kissed me again, and I kissed him back, a smile tugging on my lips.

We were full-on making out on the couch again, with him on top of me, the TV forgotten when someone cleared their throat. We broke apart, breathing heavily, and turned to find a woman with straight black hair in a grey dress suit standing there staring at us.

“Well, I certainly didn’t expect this,” she said, raising an eyebrow at us while we pulled at our clothes and hair and tried to look like the last ten minutes didn’t happen.

“Who’s that?” Sean whispered to me in a stage whisper, loud enough so that the woman heard and narrowed her eyes at him.

I sighed, and told him, “That’s my mother.”

After my mother caught us in a compromising position, we made awkward small talk. Sean fidgeted beside me while I picked at my nails, answering my mother’s questions about our relationships. What was this, FBI interrogation or something? My mother didn’t seem to notice or care about the awkward tension in the air. She just continued carrying on the conversation like she had all the time in the world.

I think I preferred it when she was away for weeks on end.

“Um, I think I should get going,” Sean said, after checking a text that came in. “I have to meet someone.”