Researching With the Jock {BWWM High School Romance}

A Slight White Lie

Vivian 

I park my car on the curb in front of the house and exit the car with my keys in my hand as I walk up the steps to my house, the smell of the O'Neill's pepperoni pizza still lingering on my clothes. I glance back at Greg's house, just a block away, and I smile to myself. Working on our project has turned out to be more interesting than I expected, especially since it meant spending time with Greg O'Neill, the star quarterback who's not just a guy with a pretty face.

As I reach for the doorknob, I can hear the faint sound of my dad's voice through the door. He's probably in the living room, talking to one of his colleagues about some school drama. My dad is a high school teacher and my mom is a doctor. Together, they make up the overprotective duo who somehow manage to worry about everything, from the state of the world to whether I've had enough vegetables today.

I take a deep breath and step inside, closing the door softly behind me. The familiar warmth of home wraps around me like a blanket. The smell of whatever Mom's cooking for dinner—a mix of garlic, onions, and something savory—fills the air. My stomach rumbles, reminding me that despite the pizza, I'm still a growing teenager with an endless appetite.

"Vivian, is that you?" Mom's voice calls from the kitchen.

"Yeah, it's me!" I answer, kicking off my shoes by the door.

Johnnie races past me in a blur, clutching his paper plane. He's usually full of energy and always in some kind of hurry. Penny is sitting cross-legged on the living room floor, her nose buried in one of those Sweet Valley High books she's obsessed with.

I head toward the kitchen, knowing what's coming next. As soon as I step inside, I see Mom standing at the stove, stirring something that smells delicious. She turns to look at me, her eyebrows slightly raised.

"How was your project?" She asks. Her smile is warm, the kind that makes me feel like everything's under control, even when it's not.

"It was good," I reply, leaning against the door frame. "We got a lot done."

"That's my straight-A child." Mom says with a hint of pride, wiping her hands on a dish towel.I give her a small smile, trying not to look too relieved that she didn't ask too many questions.

"What's the project about?" Dad's voice cuts in as he enters the kitchen, his voice is casual, but his eyes are sharp. His glasses are perched on the end of his nose like  they always are after he's been grading papers or reading the paper. He's got that look on his face—the one that says he's about to interrogate me.

My stomach tightens. I know I need to lie, but it has to be a good one. "Healthy food, exercise, and the food pyramid." I say, feeling my face heat up just a little. I quickly add, "It's for health class."

Dad gives me a look, the kind that says he's trying to decide whether or not to be concerned. I know he means well, but sometimes he overthinks things. Probably one of the reasons why he's so good at being a teacher.

"Well, that's... an important topic," he finally says, nodding slowly. "Just make sure you're focusing on the academic side of things, okay?"

"Of course, Dad," I say, offering him my best reassuring smile. "It's all academic."

Which is mostly true. Sure, Greg and I spent time talking about ideas for the project, but we also ended up talking about other stuff—music, school, classes, movies, and Greg's plans to play football again once he pass Mr. Marone's U.S. History class. And yeah, maybe there was a moment when his hand brushed against mine while reaching for the pizza, but that's not the kind of detail I'm about to share with my parents.