Let's make a movie.

"It's 'may'."

As Reese went inside I could hear the faint conversation he was engaging his gran with. Taking it as my cue, I quickly sneaked a peak in the house and making sure the coast to stairs which were like, two steps away from the front door, was clear, I walked in.

The thing is, this isn't my house so of course I don't know the spots where the wood creaks and stuff. I am entering Reese's house for like, the seventh time in all the years that I've known the boy. So my very first step causes a small "crk" to resonate throughout the house.
I close my eyes and pray to our Lord above to not let gran hear it and after about 20 seconds as I get no reaction from the living room or wherever they are, I continue and like an absolute insane person climb the stairs on my tip toes as fast as I can. 

Upon reaching the hallway upstairs, I text Reese.

"Birdie is in the nest. Fly safe."

Reese didn't respond and after waiting for another minute or so in the hallway, I hear the front door slam shut and Reese's gran's soft "Goodnight, sweet pea."

Reese trudges upstairs with a small smile on his face and I can't help but smile back.

"Need some help with all that stuff, sweet pea?" I smirk at him.

"Shush!" He smiles and surprisingly I notice a small dimple on his left side. My heart skips a beat and I find myself unable to say anything back.

"What?" He asks.

"Um,  what what? Nothing what." I word vomit.

"You were looking at me with this glazed expression, A." He smiles and dammit, there it is. The darn dimple.

"Are we going to continue chit chatting or start working ffs, Reese, time is precious." Like your smile.

I grab some of the papers from him and start walking away.
"Um, my room is right here." He says, his thumb pointing to a white door next to him.

"Of course. I was just surveying your house." Lord, save me.

"Of course." He says and opens the door to his room, letting me enter first.

I remember when I was 7 or so, I came up to his room once to play with his lego set which was super massive. Our parents are good friends but because of Reese's dad's ever expanding business, I haven't met them in a very long while. Anyway, my 7 year old self was in awe of the amazing room that Reese had. It had all these cool video games and hoards of story books and other bunch of stuff that 7 year olds used to obsess over in our time. Now they all want Kylie jenner's lipsticks. Ffs.
Reese's room has had a massive change since then, though. The walls are now a dark blue with small pictures hung up here and there; of him, Mark, his family etc. Then there's a whole showcase of his several trophies and medals. I mean, it's almost taking up an entire wall. His bed is a regular queen sized bed with baby blue covers. There's a small desk right next to a window with white draws and a door that probably is the bathroom.

"Uh, we can settle on the bed and I'll order some food." He says.

"Didn't your gran cook anything?" I ask and immediately regret, " I mean, if she has cooked something I'd be fine with that because there's no point ordering out food you'll probably wake her up."

"She made some noodles for me, but there's extra because we cook on alternative days." He says, scratching the back of his neck.

"You cook?" I ask, surprised.

"Yeah of course, my parents are never home now and I can't be a burden to gran at this age. I learnt from YouTube and Gran pretty early. I can cook whatever you will ask." He smiles.