𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐘 | 𝙅𝙤𝙨𝙚𝙥𝙝 𝘿𝙚𝙨𝙘𝙖𝙢𝙥𝙨

12: boy, you better man up

I was speed-walking to the farmer's market, and without warning, I hit my face into someone's chest.

"Ow!-" I yelp, grabbing my nose. I was about to cuss the person out, not really in the mood for being nice when I smell smoke and a familiar amber cologne.

"Why do we always have to hit each other every time we meet?" The familiar voice drawls out, and I look up to a familiar sight these days. This time, he has a cigarette in his hand. "We're going to do the project at your house."

I'm sure Joseph has had a lot of things to control growing up, but I'm definitely not one of them. I cross my arms, tapping my foot unhappily at him.

"No, actually, we're not." I stated. "And I'm not taking any excuses. Your mom likes me anyways, shouldn't be too much of a problem." I tried my best to seem stern, to make sure that he knows that I'm not kidding around. He just looks at me with a small amount of surprise, taking a drag of his cigarette and blowing it to the side.

"My mom may like you, but it's not guaranteed my dad will," Joseph retorts, dropping the cigarette to the ground and stomping on it. I put my hands on my hips, pressing my lips into a tight line.

"Your dad does like me, you fool," I retort, eyebrows furrowing. "You're acting as if we haven't known each other our whole lives," And that's a fact. His father actually had mixed feelings about me last time I checked, and the last time I indeed checked was when I was still 12 and annoying.

Nevertheless, Joseph rolls his eyes, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "Fine then, if you're so insistent."

I nod and expected him to leave, but he just stood there silently. We stand there, staring at each others faces for what seemed like an hour, waiting for the other to do something. His eyes flicker down to my lips, and I gulp before stepping back.

"See you tomorrow, or something," I mutter before continuing my trip the the farmer's market, feeling his eye follow after me until I made a sharp turn.

God, this boy grew up to be weirder than I expected.

---

As I stand in front of the white doors, I hesitated on pressing the doorbell. I was nervous, for some reason, and I couldn't even pin-point why. I fish out my compact mirror from my bag and check my face and hair, making sure that I had nothing in my teeth and my hair sat like it should.

I release a deep exhale, putting the compact mirror back into my purse before pressing on the doorbell. I shouldn't be nervous. I've been in his house before, on many visits. This is probably the only boy's house I'm allowed to be at.

It takes a few minutes, and I was starting to fret that I had gotten the wrong address before Mrs. Descamps opens the door for me.

"Oh Madeline, my darling! Come in, come in." She ushered, her eyes twinkling in fascination as she watched me, taking in the sight of my outfit.

"My my, you seem to be pretty and proper at any time of the day! If only more girls were like you." She compliments, sauntering into the living room. The walls of the entree were painted red, frames upon frames of pictures decorating the halls. I look around, spotting one of Joseph when he was just a tiny toddler.

Ah, the glory days.

I follow Mrs. Descamps into the living room, where she walks towards the bottom of their stairs. "Joseph, Madeline is here!" She yells, and I hear pit-pattering from upstairs.

"Make yourself at home," Mrs. Descamps encourages, almost pushing me down into one of their very comfortable sofa chairs and proceeds into the kitchen, where a lovely buttery aroma makes me almost want to drool. I'm happy that she's seemed to forget that I punched her son a week ago.

I smile sheepishly, straightening my sleeves. The dress I had put on today was one of my favorites - it was red and flowy, but not too long whereas I could trip over it. I get up again, stepping into the kitchen to see Mrs. Descamps baking something up.

"What are you making?" I ask politely, peering over her shoulder. The older woman lets out a light chuckle, offering me a chocolate chip. "I'm making pain au chocolat. You love those, don't you?"

I nod, quite aggressively. I love pastries, any and all types. Plain, with chocolate, berry or nut fillings... Pastries have always been a guilty food that I've never been able to say no to. Mrs. Descamps knows that quite well, which is probably the reason to her spontaneously making pastries.

"You know, I've never seen Joseph be so nervous about having a girl over at his house. He's been running around the house, especially up in his room," She says to me in a hushed tone, giggling like a schoolgirl. I tilt my head, a curious smile spreading on my lips. Maybe he was more excited to have me over than he thought.

"Mom, get away from her and stop saying embarrassing things," I hear Joseph hiss, and I look up to see him leaning against the kitchen doorway. His mother just grins and acts as if she hadn't been talking to me. Joseph rolls his eyes before grabbing my wrist, dragging me up the stairs.

"I didn't say anything, ask her yourself!" I hear Mrs. Descamps say, but it's more faint than ever as we get further away.

He opens the door to his room, and I don't know what I expected, but it definitely wasn't a neat, pretty and comfortable living space.

He had a big bed, probably queen-sized at least. He had a small bookcase, a vinyl record player and a gigantic closet. It might not sound impressive, but for that time, it was pretty cool. He even had the newest radio model - but I was more interested in his vinyl collection.