If You Love Me Let Me Go (Scömìche)

16

A/N: ^ this is Mitch's outfit :P

_

I ran my fingers through my hair while I was turning for the thirtieth time, pacing to the other side of the room. I'd been pacing back and forth for what felt like hours, my heart racing. I was nervous. So nervous I had to wipe my palms on my pants every three minutes.

The alarm clock said it was six thirty-two, still twenty-eight minutes to go. I'd gotten ready way too early, kind of excited for the date. Oh, yeah, right. The platonic date. Because I was obviously, strictly platonic with Scott.

I walked to the mirror, checking myself in it once again. I fixed my shirt - the white button-up where I had left a few of the top buttons unbuttoned. I buttoned it all the way up, frowning. No, this looked horrible. I unbuttoned three buttons, still furrowing my brows. Buttoned one back up, then unbuttoned two. Finally, I settled on my previous version with three buttons open, sighing and running my fingers through my dark hair again. It was getting long. I tried to swipe it to the side, maybe try something a little different today? I shook my head to myself, combing my hair back down. With my hair to the side I looked like myself from two years ago. Ugh. Horrible. I'm glad I cut those side bangs off. I inspected my face, looking for unblended concealer or foundation but fortunately found none. Thanks to Scott I had an actual makeup bag with all necessities now, from concealer to eyebrow pencil, there was everything I needed to feel confident with myself. Don't get me wrong - I'm not that makeup addict that won't leave the house without, I just think that makeup is fucking great for a guy, because it makes a guy look beautiful.

I gave myself one last once-over before I turned around and sat back down on my bed, fidgeting with my hands. Wow, was it really so hot in here? I shouldn't have worn this jacket. I'd found a black denim jacket that I put on over the white button-up to make it look less plain, and besides I thought it was a nice match for the black skinny jeans I was wearing.

There was a knock on my door all of a sudden. I checked the alarm clock: six forty-seven. Maybe it was Esther?

"Yes?"

The person turned the lock without giving me an answer and opened the door. I had to remind myself how to breathe as I looked into those beautiful blue eyes that I'd never forget.

"Scott..."

He smiled. "Hi, Mitch. I-" He looked around the room. "I'm sorry I'm early but-"

I smiled too, standing up from the bed and approaching him. I was hoping for a kiss, but it wasn't granted. I pouted.

"What's wrong?" Scott asked, furrowing his brows in worry. I shook my head.

"Nothing. Let's have the- the date."

He hesitated, observing me for a moment before a smile formed on his lips again.

"Come on, then." He intertwined our fingers and led me out of the door. I'd been outside of my room before but I always forgot how huge and beautiful this house was. That reminded me of something. I hadn't asked -

"Scott?"

"Hm?"

"What- what is this place? I mean, is it a hiding spot, or-"

"It's my house," he said nonchalantly. Oh sure, I can afford a mansion at twenty-one - who is this guy?!

"Oh, you- your house? Wow."

"Yeah. The, uh- the company. And my parents."

"Parents?" I tried carefully. I didn't want to step over a line. But dates were also there to get to know each other, right?