Sweetheart || BBANGSAZ

2. Scraped Knees And A Promise

After that night, she drove me home, pullin' up right in front of the house. I slid off her bike, my legs a bit shaky, and she pulled out a cigarette, lightin' it with a flick. "Y'all are crazy," I said, half-laughin', still buzzin' from the adrenaline. She just smiled, blowin' out a stream of smoke. "Goodnight," she said, her voice low and smooth.

I smiled back, feelin' a warmth in my chest that had nothin' to do with the cool night air, and started walkin' to my house. As soon as I got close, I heard the familiar grumble of Charles, my mom's current plaything, sittin' on the steps like he owned the place. "Where the hell you been?" he barked, his words slurred, probably from the bottle he'd been nursin' all night.

"Nowhere," I shot back, not even lookin' at him as I stomped up the steps and into the house. I could feel his eyes burnin' into my back, but I didn't care. I was too tired for his crap. As I reached the door, I glanced back for a second—he was givin' The woman a hard look, tryin' to size her up. But she didn't even flinch, just took another drag from her cigarette, like she was above it all.

Once inside, Charles followed me, still tryin' to get answers. "Who the hell was that?" he demanded, his tone accusin'.

I ignored him, headin' straight for the fridge. When I opened it, the smell hit me first—mold again. Disgusted, I yelled up to the ceiling, "Ma! The fridge's got mold again!" But, predictably, she didn't answer. She was probably passed out somewhere, lost to whatever she was on tonight.

Charles wouldn't let up. "I'm talkin' to you!" he snapped, tryin' to get in my face.

I spun around, my patience gone. "Yeah, well, I ain't talkin' to you! Give it a rest, I'm tired," I said, pushin' past him and headin' upstairs. I slammed my door shut, finally gettin' some space.

Strippin' off my clothes, I brushed my teeth, tryin' to scrub off the smell of the bar—the smoke, the alcohol. But as I breathed in, I found myself likin' it, the scent of the night still lingerin' on my skin. It was like a reminder, a piece of somethin' different, somethin' new.

Before climbin' into bed, I went to my window and peeked out through the curtain. She was still there, leanin' against her bike, her black gloves off, finishin' her cigarette. The streetlight cast a glow around her, makin' her look almost unreal, like somethin' out of a dream.

I watched her for a moment, hopin' she'd leave soon, but also kinda hopin' she wouldn't. Then, with a sigh, I closed the curtain and crawled into bed, lettin' the exhaustion of the day finally take over.

But she just wouldn't go away. Every day after school, there she was, posted outside my house, quiet as always. I didn't even need to look to know she was there. I could feel her eyes on me, watchin' my every move. As I walked up the steps, I muttered, "If ya don't leave, my mom's boyfriend's gonna be pissed." But I knew she wasn't goin' anywhere.

I sighed and went inside, headin' straight to the kitchen. I pulled out my phone, the screen all cracked but still workin'. With another sigh, I turned off the notifications—didn't need any more harassment today. Then I dragged myself up to my room to do my homework. Last year of high school, and I was doin' my best to keep my grades up. I wasn't a bad student—hell, I wanted to get into a good college, maybe get outta this shitty town. Be a doctor or somethin'. I didn't really know what I wanted, just knew I wanted to be secure, ya know?

After about an hour, I heard the front door slam open. I rolled my eyes, knowin' exactly what was comin'. "What is that woman still doin' there, Hanni?!" Charles yelled, his voice carryin' up the stairs.

"I dunno why she won't leave! How 'bout you ask her yourself?" I yelled back, barely lookin' up from my books. I heard the fridge door open and groaned. "Not again," I muttered, practically flyin' down the stairs in my shorts and top.