The Project

Chapter 3

For some reason, I made sure that my whole house was clean before Johnny came over. He didn't really seem like the person to care about that kind of stuff but I didn't want him to think I was a slob or anything.

As I wiped down the kitchen countertops, the side door opened and mom walked in, immediately kicking off her shoes and setting her purse on the still wet counter.

"Why are you cleaning?" She asks, setting her keys next to her purse.

"Someone's coming over to work on a project," I inform, throwing the dirty wipe into the trash can.

Mom sighs, fixing her hair behind her ears. "Well don't be loud, I'm gonna be working in the office. And is this a boy or girl coming over?"

I hesitate, not knowing how she'd respond if I told her a boy she isn't familiar with is coming over.

"We won't be loud, he doesn't really talk much," I answer, and she raises an eyebrow, the smallest hint of a smirk on her face.

"So it is a boy?" I blush, nodding. Her smirk falls. "Okay, well then work in the living room."

I nod in agreement and she walks away to go into her office and finish work for the evening.

After doing a double check over the house to make sure everything is clean and in good shape, the doorbell rings.

My heart pounds.

Why was I nervous? It's not like I like Johnny, let alone even know him.

Maybe I felt this way because I've never really had a boy in my house, except for Benny, that is. But that doesn't count, Benny has been coming over to my house for as long as I remember.

I glance at myself in the mirror before walking over to the front door and opening it.

There stands Johnny, clad in blue jeans and a white t-shirt, the same thing he had worn to school today. He wears similar things everyday, jeans and a black or white t-shirt. Sometimes he wore a jean jacket.

"Hey," he greets before I could, and I smile, opening my door wider.

"Hey, come on in."

Johnny walks into my house, looking around the hallway we stood in with intrigued eyes. There was nothing interesting around, just a blank hallway with a few art pieces hung on the walls.

"Should I take off my shoes?" He questioned quietly.

"Doesn't matter," I answer, looking down at his worn out black converse. "Whatever's more comfortable for you."

Johnny keeps his shoes on and we walk down the hallway that lead to the kitchen and living room.

He looks around again, looking as though he'd entered the biggest, nicest house he'd ever been in. It's not like my house was anything special, just another average house.

"So we can get started in the living room," I suggest, and Johnny just silently follows me onto the couch in the living room.

I wasn't used to having to be the one who initiated conversations. With Benny, I could barely ever get a word in. He talks nonstop and sometimes I'm just forced to listen because I can't cut in.