The smell of tacos wafted around the room as I relaxed on the couch, barely focusing on the images the television was displaying. A yawn escaped my lips and I glanced towards the kitchen, pursing my lips. The sounds of cooking could be heard, but the person doing the cooking could not be seen. And I couldn’t go in there to see him either, since he had banished me from the kitchen.

I turned back to the T.V, picking up the remote to change the channel— you could only watch so many infomercials before going crazy. As I was flipping through the double digits, a familiar face flashed on the screen. My breath caught in my mouth as I stared at Shawn’s mug shots. The text on the bottom of the screen was relaying information about the trial tomorrow. Swallowing nervously I quickly switched the channel again, ending on Spongebob.

“Holly?”

My heart leapt into my throat and I quickly turned my head up, coming face-to-face with Mr. Heywood. My shoulders sagged and I let out a quiet breath. “You scared me,” I accused.

He chuckled. “Sorry. Do you want everything on your taco?”

“Depends on what everything is. I don’t like onions—”

“Or peppers?” Mr. Heywood interjected with a small smirk.

I stared at him in surprise. “Oh, um, yeah. How’d you know?”

“You and I are more alike than we could ever guess,” Mr. Heywood responded with a shrug.  “I’ll be back in a minute.”

“Sure.”

A commercial for Christmas sales at a department store came on and I zoned out, focusing on the picture of Mr. Heywood and his parents next to the television. A smile spread across my face as I remembered the first time I saw it. It was hard to believe that only four months had passed since I first met Mr. Heywood. It felt more like two years had gone by.

My phone suddenly vibrated in my pocket, knocking me out of my reverie.

Where are you?

The contact read Lance, sending a jolt of terror through me for a moment, until I remembered Lance bought a new phone. Seconds later I sent my reply telling him where I was— truthfully. Lance was one of the select few who could know about my relationship with Mr. Heywood.

Really? Behave.

My face heated up quickly. Shut up. What do you want?

Meet me at the café on the corner of James Street before the trial.

Why?

Because I want to dump my trash.

My eyebrows furrowed in confusion. What are you talking about?

There were a few moments of silence before my phone vibrated again. You’re stupid. Ever heard of the term breakfast?

Nope. Must be some British thing that didn’t make it to America.

… Are you going to be there or not?

I’ll be there, I typed back, grinning.

“What are you grinning about?”

A startled squeak escaped my lips and I dropped my phone, a hand flying up to my mouth. My face flushed as I looked up to see Mr. Heywood looking down at me. “I didn’t know you were part mouse,” he commented.

“I—I’m not!”

“Uh-huh.”

“Really!”

Mr. Heywood gave me a smug smile. “Whatever you say, Holly. We’re eating at the table.”

“You have a kitchen table?”

“I’m not a barbarian,” he responded in a flat voice. “Now go.”

“Okay, dad.”

As soon as the words left my lips, an awkward silence settled in. Mr. Heywood looked caught between amusement and discomfort. Another blush spread across my cheeks as I headed towards the kitchen, ducking my head. Note to self: Don’t call Mr. Heywood dad. I really needed to think before I spoke. And I really needed to learn not to make things awkward.

“Holly? Hey, Holly.”

 A hand on my shoulder made me blink in surprise. I turned my head to Mr. Heywood. “Huh?”

“I asked if you were allergic to peanuts,” he told me, raising an eyebrow. “Twice.”

“Sorry,” I apologized, looking away from him. “And no, I’m not. Why?”

“I put peanuts in the taco seasoning.”

I gave him a skeptical look. “What?”

He laughed, ushering me into one of the chairs. “Trust me, it’s good.”

“Okay… Can I have a fork?”

“A fork?”

I nodded. “You know, something you eat with—”

“Are you going to do that every time I repeat something you said?” Mr. Heywood snapped, frowning at me.

“You do it to me!”

He smirked. “That’s because it’s funny when I do it. You at least blush.”

“I do not!” I denied, though contrary to my words, my cheeks burned again. “But I need a fork to eat.”

“It’s a taco. You eat it with your hands.”

I ducked my head. “I need a fork…” I was definitely not going to eat a taco in front of Mr. Heywood. It had to be the messiest meal in the world. There was no way I was going to make a fool of myself in front of him.

Mr. Heywood watched me curiously for a moment before getting up from the table. Moments later he returned, handing me a fork. “A fork for the lady.”

“Thanks.” When I realized he had another fork in his hand I gave him a curious look. “Two forks?”

“I’m going to eat my taco with a fork too,” he told me, dropping into his seat. “I want to know what’s so fun about eating Mexican food with a fork.”

“There’s nothing fun about it…”

Mr. Heywood shrugged, stabbing his fork into the center of his taco. Some of the seasoning leaked out from under the tortilla shell. He raised an eyebrow. “Are you embarrassed to eat a taco in front of me? That’s cute.”

“That’s not it!” I countered, feeling my face heat up again.

He gave me a smug look. “You can’t lie to me, Holly.”

“Could Holly lie to you?”

Mr. Heywood’s expression was confused for a minute until he realized what I meant. Then his expression became guilty, and he dropped his gaze. For the second time, an awkward silence filled the room. After a moment Mr. Heywood sighed. “She could lie, yes.”

“So how come I can’t?” I complained, ignoring the awkwardness.

Mr. Heywood gave a low chuckle, now appearing more at ease. “Should I be worried about why you want to lie to me so badly?”

“I don’t want to lie to you,” I told him, shaking my head. “But what if I want to, like, have a surprise for you… or something.”

“I’ll do my best not to guess.”

“Maybe I’ll ask Holly for tips…”

Mr. Heywood pursed his lips at me. “I’d rather you not. Holly was a pain in the ass when she lied. I prefer you the way you are now.”

I smiled at him, not sure whether that was meant to be a compliment or not. It almost seemed impossible to lie to him. How had the other Holly managed? Maybe she didn’t keep eye contact…?

“Speaking of Holly,” Mr. Heywood suddenly started, breaking my thoughts. “Remember why she was in town?”

“To hand out invitations to her wedding.”

He nodded. “Right. Well Jeremy and I both got one. I don’t really want to go—”

“What?” I interjected, my eyes widening. “Why not? Mr. Heywood—”

“Chris,” he corrected.

I rolled my eyes. “Chris, weddings are amazing! There’s cake, food, dancing, pretty dresses—”

Mr. Heywood smirked. “Pretty dresses?”

“Well yeah,” I responded, quickly adverting my gaze. “You get to dress up… You should go! I’m sure Holly would really like it if you went.”

“She does want me to go.”

“Then why don’t you?”

“I never said I wasn’t,” Mr. Heywood responded, his smirk widening. “You just assumed I wasn’t.”

Once more my cheeks warmed. “Sorry.”

Mr. Heywood held up his hand. “No worries. Anyway, the invite says we can invite someone… And since the wedding is in New York, I was thinking it’d be okay if you wanted to go.”

“Me?” My eyes widened in excitement as I stared in surprise at him. “Really? Is it okay?”

Mr. Heywood gave me a look like he thought I was stupid. “I just said it would be okay.”

“I want to go!”

“I wasn’t going to let you say no. However, school resumes the next day so you might be tired.”

“I don’t care about that,” I told Mr. Heywood, smiling broadly. “I definitely want to go. Who’s Jeremy inviting?”

Mr. Heywood gave a half-shrug. “We were thinking you’d like Casey to come so it wasn’t as awkward. Or Lance. I’m pretty sure it’s alright for Jeremy to bring a guy.”

A laugh escaped my lips. “Lance? At a wedding? That’d be quite the sight.”

“So I take it you want to bring Casey?”

“I’ll ask if she can go,” I told him, nearly shaking with excitement. Even though it was still a month away, I couldn’t wait. Especially for the cake.

Mr. Heywood turned his attention back to his meal, mixing his taco up with his fork. “Time to eat our taco salads.”

I ignored his jibe, sticking my own for into my taco. While he was focusing on cutting up his tortilla shell, I quickly stuffed a large piece of my taco in my mouth. Mr. Heywood abruptly looked up and I immediately slapped a hand over my mouth, flushing. He chuckled, adverting his gaze.

“You’ve eaten in front of me before, you know,” he told me, taking an elegant bite of his taco. I narrowed my eyes at him. He was a guy. He shouldn’t be eating neater that I was.

“Not this messy,” I finally retorted when I swallowed. “I don’t want to look gross.”

Mr. Heywood scoffed. “You could never look gross, Holly. Now eat.”

Ten minutes later, Mr. Heywood had already finished eating, and was watching me intently. One of his famous smirks played across his mouth as he rested his elbow on the table with his head in his hand. Luckily for me, I was almost finished with my last taco— only two more bites.

“This could be a form of torture,” I pointed out, aiming my taco-loaded fork at him. “Stop that.”

Mr. Heywood switched hands his head was resting on. “It’s not torture. I’m just looking at you.”

“Well stop.”

“Can’t do that. You get to stare at me in class all period long. Now it’s my turn.”

“Then I’m not eating any more,” I stated stubbornly, dropping my fork.

Mr. Heywood rolled his eyes. “You’re such a girl, Holly.”

“Oh? Did you want me to be a guy? Jeremy, perhaps?”

Mr. Heywood scowled at me. “I don’t even— You know what? I’m going to go choose a movie for us to watch. Finish your dinner,” he ordered, pushing away from the table.

Resisting the urge to laugh, I quickly ate the rest of my taco as Mr. Heywood left the kitchen. With the way he acted whenever I mentioned anything having to do with Jeremy and him romantically, it made me wonder. When I was done I grabbed my plate and his, placing them in the sink. Just as I was leaving the kitchen, Mr. Heywood was entering. His shoulder slammed into my face, making me take a step back in surprise.

“Sorry about that,” he apologized in an amused voice.

I rubbed my nose, frowning at him. “It’s fine.”

“Go sit down on the couch,” he ordered, going back into the living room. “I’m going to get a blanket.”

“Make popcorn too.”

Mr. Heywood raised an eyebrow at me. “You think you can order me in my own house?”

“Yep,” I said defiantly, standing a little straighter. His intense gaze almost made me back down, but just before I gave up, he shrugged.

“Just this once,” he told me, holding up his finger. “Now sit.”

When Mr. Heywood finally made it back to the living room, he had a large, black comforter of his shoulder and a massive bowl of popcorn in the other. He sat down on the opposite side of the couch, keeping a large distance between us. Placing the popcorn bowl on the coffee table, he arranged the comforter over his shoulder so that it was covering him. Then he grabbed the popcorn bowl, flicked off the lights, and picked up the remote to the T.V.

I stared at him flatly. His lips twitched as he turned to look at me. “Oh, I forgot you were here.”

I turned my head up at him, crossing my arms. What was he planning? He snickered and I glanced back at him, frowning. The blanket was off him now and he was gesturing me towards him. “Come here.”

“I’m good.”

“Holly.”

After a minute long staring contest I sighed, scooting closer to Mr. Heywood. He grabbed my arm and pulled me nearly onto him. A blush made its way onto my face again as he wrapped the blanket around us. After a second I relaxed back into him, trying to calm my racing heart.

We were a couple now. This was what couples do. I couldn’t get embarrassed every time Mr. Heywood did something like this. He was much more experienced in dating than I was, so I had to keep up with him.

“This is much better,” Mr. Heywood murmured, his jaw moving on my shoulder with each word. “Isn’t it, Holly?”

“Yeah,” I muttered bashfully, my face still burning.

He chuckled. “I hope you like scary movies.”

My head snapped around to stare at him. “Wait, horror movies?”

“That’s what we are watching,” he informed me, looking amused. “Do you get scared easily?”

“No,” I lied quickly.

His smirk returned as he leaned closer to me to grab the remote off the coffee table. “If you get scared you can cling to me.”

I squared my shoulders. “I won’t get scared.”

“Holly,” Mr. Heywood hissed, pulling his hand out of my grasp. “Don’t dig your nails into my hand!”

Unable to pull my eyes away from the screen, I patted his leg as an apology. I didn’t even know what movie we were watching, but it was way too terrifying for my liking. I wasn’t the horror movie girl. Suddenly a loud crash came from the television, causing me to jump violently.

“Ow,” Mr. Heywood groaned, holding me still. “Careful where you have a seizure.”

I turned to glare at him. “You could have warned me!”

“I haven’t seen this before.” I gave him a flat look. He grinned. “Okay, maybe I have. But I’m not going to ruin the experience for you.”

“I’m going to have nightmares,” I complained, snuggling more comfortably into his chest, my past embarrassment long gone.

“What if I sleep beside you?”

My heart skipped a beat and for a moment I lost focus on the television. “Together?”

“Couples can sleep in the same bed without doing anything,” Mr. Heywood told me, resting his chin on my shoulder. “Besides, last time you were here you slept with Jeremy, didn’t you?”

“Jealous?” I teased, even though my heartbeat was now racing with anticipation. However, I’d slept in the same bed as him before, so what was the difference between now and then?

He shrugged. “Maybe just a little.”

“Jeremy will sleep with you next time he’s here—”

Mr. Heywood lightly knocked his head against mine. “I didn’t mean I was jealous of you.”

A smile slipped onto my face as I turned to look at Mr. Heywood. “I know.”

He rolled his eyes. “Watch the movie.”

By the time the movie was over, I was half-asleep. Mr. Heywood gently pushed me away from him, keeping the blanket around me as he went to turn off the television. When he turned back to me, he was grinning. “Don’t usually stay up late, huh sleepyhead?” He came back over to the couch, holding out a hand to me.

When I placed my hand in his grasp, he quickly pulled me to my feet. I stumbled over the blanket and my face smacked against his chest. “I have to go to court tomorrow,” I murmured.

“You don’t have to.”

“I promised Lance.”

Mr. Heywood put a hand on my back, leading me towards his bedroom. “I know. I’d just prefer if you didn’t go.”

“I’ll be safe,” I assured him, barely paying attention to where we were going. “I think I actually want to watch Shawn get what he deserves.”

Mr. Heywood chuckled. “I’d actually like to see that as well.”

“Do you want to come with me?”

“I’d rather not step in a courtroom…”

I frowned slightly. “Oh, right.”

“Sorry,” Mr. Heywood apologized, removing his hand. “Want to change into your pajamas and go to bed?”

To be honest, I wanted to sleep in his clothes, but I wasn’t going to tell him that. Mr. Heywood grabbed my bag from the living room and I went into his bathroom to change quickly. When I came back, I walked in on Mr. Heywood with his shirt off. I blushed, not sure whether to leave the room or not. He noticed me staring at him and he gave me a smug smile.

“What’s that look for?” he asked.

I shook my head. “Nothing!”

“I sleep shirtless you know.”

A flashback of the first time I stayed at Mr. Heywood’s apartment whizzed by my head. “I know.”

Mr. Heywood chuckled, gesturing for me to come closer to him. “Well this time I can give you a goodnight kiss.”

My eyes widened in surprise as Mr. Heywood reached out his hand and pulled me the rest of the way to him. Before I could respond to him, his lips were already on mine. After a second he pulled away, his eyes smoldering into mine. I frowned at him, reaching up to kiss him back. He took a step back, his eyes twinkling in amusement.

“Eager, are we?”

My face burned while I opened my mouth to protest. Mr. Heywood quickly covered it with his hand, chuckling. “Kidding. But you’re tired, so I’m not going to keep you up. Get in the bed.”

“What are you doing?”

“The dishes,” he informed me, nodding his head towards the kitchen. “I’m not a huge fan of flies.”

I laughed quietly. “Can’t say I am either.”

Mr. Heywood headed back to the kitchen while I climbed into his bed. For a moment I hesitated on which side to go on. Did Mr. Heywood prefer one to the other? I finally decided on sleeping on the right side. As soon as my head hit his unbelievably comfortable pillow weariness swept over me. I yawned, pulling up the comforter on his bed to my chin. The sounds of Mr. Heywood doing the dishes floated in the room and I focused on them, trying to stay awake so I could wait for him to come back. It didn’t work. Before I knew it, I was dead asleep, the scent of Mr. Heywood surrounding me. 

_______________________________

Blah. Lately I haven't felt like writing. It's been feeling more like a chore lately than a thing I do for fun... It kinda sucks. I don't know why I think that, I just do. I literally have to force myself to write now. I wish there was more time in a day... Or that I didn't have to go to school... or that math didn't exist :/ Oh, and I didn't proof read....

Moving away from the depression, another person made a trailer for this story :D This time it's on youtube! Go check it out! The video is to the right. Click on it and it will bring you to youtube! Facebook page in external link (: My Facebook page has two other trailers, so if you haven't seen them, check them out!