Chapter Eighteen

Sometimes people had good days, other times people had bad ones where nothing ever seemed to go according to plan. The latter tended to be everyday of my life since my tenth birthday, but not today. Today was a good day. The sun was out, Skylar had accepted my apology, it was the weekend and I had plans. Plans that didn't include Netflix, my bed or being forced to go somewhere. I was going out voluntarily, and for once, I was feeling spritely.

"You look fancy," My mother nodded in approval as she looked over my outfit, noticing my lack of ripped jeans. No doubt the woman would run upstairs in search of them as soon as I left the house in the hopes to find and burn them. I'd hidden them just to be on the safe side. "What's the occasion?"

"No occasion. I'm just feeling," I searched for a word. "Good."

She beamed. "That's great, sweetheart. Any reason? It must be something if you're out of those god awful jeans. Is it that polite boy, Beckett?"

"Mum," I groaned. "How many times? Beckett and I didn't get along, alright?"

"Keep your hair on." She laughed, turning her back to face me so as to mix the pasta sauce she was making. "Is it perhaps another boy?"

I chewed on the inside of my cheek. "No."

She immediately whirled around, wooden spoon pointing toward me in an accusatory manor. "Sweetheart, you can't lie to save your life," Dollops of tomato sauce fell to the floor as she waved the kitchen utensil around in the air. "And that red tinting your cheeks doesn't help your case."

"Maybe it's the sauce you keep throwing about everywhere like a mad woman." I snapped defensively.

She grinned. "You know, mums like to hear the gossip too."

I'm sure she'd love to know that her daughter was just beginning to sort out her feelings toward a certain rebellious, troublesome, irritating boy. One that she didn't want me seeing due to our whole accidental run in with the police. Yes, I'm sure she'd love the gossip if she knew that it was my feelings for Parker Heywood.

It was Skylar who'd popped my bubble of denial, forcing me to understand my jumbled up mess of confusion. She'd came around late last night and we'd discussed our fallout (she'd forgiven me after I promised I would spend more time with her than I had previously been doing since the arrival of Parker) before lapsing back into our old ways. We talked in depth about our favourite television shows - which of course meant that a few hours were dedicated to theories about Teen Wolf. Eventually the conversation only consisted of questions asking the world how Stiles and Isaac were so damn attractive. One second we were talking about Isaac's blue irises, the next she was interrogating me about Parker.

"So do you like him?" She'd asked. 

"What? Who?" I shoved a handful of popcorn into my mouth. "Isaac or Stiles? I think we've established that they're both-"

She pulled a face. "Im talking about Parker, silly."

I choked on a kernel that had accidentally found its way into the bunch of perfectly popped corn I'd been munching on. Skylar waited patiently for me to recover, apparently finding the unspoken switch of conversation topic completely normal. "Pardon?"

"You need to sort out your feelings and I'm getting sick of waiting for you to do it by yourself. You need a helping hand to hurry you up a bit and here I am. I am your hand. Let me guide you to-"

I snorted. "Excuse me but I c-"

"Do you feel happy or sad when you hang out with him?" She interrupted.

"I'm not going to-"

"Answer the questions." She demanded.

"Questions?" I groaned. "Plural?"

She rearranged herself to get more comfortable, sitting so that she was cross legged on my bed opposite me. The multiple bottles of nail polish she'd brought with her to do my nails (can I just say, not my idea) clinked together as the duvet moved beneath her. She gave me a warning look and I caved. She wouldn't drop this subject, that much was obvious.

"Fine. I guess... Happy. He makes me laugh. Friends make friends laugh."

"Does he make you have any really prominent emotions? Maybe desire? Such as yearning to pin him up against the nearest wall and passionately-"

"He winds me up." I hastily cut in. "Frustrates me a lot of the time. He likes to tease me because he thinks my reactions are amusing." He thinks you're cute when you're annoyed, my subconscious added. Like I was going to tell Skylar that, though. I almost laughed.

"Frustrates you? Sexually?" She wiggled her eyebrows and I tossed my pillow at her head.

I huffed."No. He just drives me crazy at times."

"What do you feel like when he touches you? Good? Bad?"

"I don't like touchi-"

"Cut the bullshit." She chided. "You know that I know that you let him touch you. Holding hands in corridors or that cute kissy thing he does. Why does he kiss your hand, by the way? It's adorable, don't get me wrong, but if I were you then I'd be pouncing on those pretty mouth pillows of his and-"

"Holding hands doesn't feel terrible." I talked over her loudly.

"That wasn't the question. Good or bad?"

I groaned. "Fine. I guess it feels good."

"How good? What does it feel like?" She looked serious but I was struggling to resist the urge to laugh. The conversation was so uncomfortable and I wanted nothing more than to up and leave. Problem one, this was my home; problem two, she'd hunt me down to the ends of the Earth if she wanted these answers; problem three, escaping her most probably involved exercise. Running wasn't something I planned to do any time soon. Or ever, really.

"Like..." I shifted in discomfort, face heating up. "When people touch me it normally feels like my skin is on fire. Hot and uncomfortable. When he does it's like- like it's hot but a different kind. Warm but... I don't know. It's nice, alright? It's nice."

She nodded. "What would you do if he kissed you?"

"He already has. Months ago in his truck. I told you about that, remember?"

She sighed. "Months ago, exactly. What would you do if he kissed you now?"

I hesitated. "I don't know."

"If your answer isn't immediately push him off or punch him then there's something there." She grinned. "What do you feel like when you're with him?"

I didn't even need to think about that one. "Safe."

She frowned. "That's odd considering the guy seems like a safety hazard even to himself but hey, one step at a time. We're making progress so your questionable opinion on that matter can be overlooked for now."

"He has a gentle side, alright?" I felt the odd need to protect both my opinion and Parker. "You just don't get to see it because you don't know him as well as I do. He sometimes puts himself in dangerous or illegal situations, but if anything was to happen to me then he'd be there no matter what."

She checked off what I supposed were boxes on her invisible list of questions (the pen was her finger, the paper her palm) and shook her head. "Overly defensive and blinded by love." She murmured to herself.

I rolled my eyes. "Ha-ha. Very funny."

"Now for the quick fire round. These questions are going to be fast and you're going to answer with a yes or no. You got it?"

I groaned inwardly. "Got it."

"Do you find Parker attractive?"

I huffed. "Yes."

"Do you think he's a nice person?"

"Yes."

"Do you wish he'd leave you alone?"

"No."

"Would you miss him if he left?"

"I guess- I mean, yes." I quickly corrected myself at the hostile glare she shot me.

"Have you ever thought about kissing him?"

"Yes." My cheeks flamed. I kept having quick flashes of images at random times. It was Parker and I together, mouths locked and hands roaming. It sounded absurd. It was absurd. Whenever it came to mind, the setting around us always seemed to be in a tent. The tent we were at when we were camping. It would disappear as quickly as it came, leaving me confused and rattled.

"Do you like Parker?"

"Yeah." I mumbled, distracted, only noticing my slip up a beat too late. "I mean, no. I don't. Well, I do. I think? Occasionally. When his shirt is off." I collapsed backward with a groan.

Skylar let out a loud cry of victory, standing up on my bed. "My work here is done."

***

"What took you so long?" Parker asked as I clambered into his pick up truck. He'd parked at the end of the street like he normally did for school when he swung by to pick me up - out of the hawk-like vision of my mother.

"My mum." I didn't elaborate any further. I might have joked about her being convinced I was going out to see a boy I liked if it hadn't been for yesterday's question grilling from Skylar. Now I wasn't sure if I could tell him that without my face turning beetroot. Brilliant. "So did you get everything we need?"

He nodded, fingers tapping the steering wheel to the beat of the rock station playing faintly in the background. "I think I got all of the ingredients, yeah. I don't cook though, so don't take my word for it."

"I can't imagine you ever cooking." I took out the small box of raisins from my pocket and popped a few into my mouth. "What?" I asked self consciously, extremely aware of Parker's stare. Thanks to Skylar, if I wasn't already a paranoid freak then I sure was now.

He wrinkled his nose. "Raisins taste bad."

"Raisins are natures candy." I corrected. "And these ones are coated in white chocolate."

"Chocolate? Can I try one?" He asked, eyes fixed on the road ahead.

"You're driving." I pointed out the obvious.

He sighed. "Just pass me one."

I did as I was told and held out one toward him. Before I could process what he was doing, he'd grabbed it from my fingers with his mouth. My own fell agape, hand still hovering uselessly in the air. I quickly returned it to my lap, staring pointedly out of the window as Parker laughed at my reaction. The whole thing had felt oddly intimate and to say I was now feeling awkward would be an understatement. Was I looking too much into it? Probably.

"You're acting strange. Stranger than usual your usual strangeness. Which by the way, is very strange." He informed me as he reversed in front of his house, cutting the engine.

"Your observation skills never fail to astound me." I mumbled sarcastically.

Did I like Parker? I hadn't had any previous relationships to compare my feelings to, nor did I really understand what more-than-friend-feelings were supposed to be like. I thought that I might, but then how was I to know that it wasn't just because Skylar had forced me to over analyse things?

"Earth to Flora?" Parker was around my side of the car, holding the door wide open with a grin. "Anybody in that empty head of yours? Are we making this cake or what?"

I slipped out and slammed the door shut behind me, trailing behind him as we walked to his front door. I'd been here only twice before and remembered them both all too well. The first time being Parker's horrific party where the pair of us had argued about our awkward car kiss and him sleeping with Quinn on the same night, the second when I'd had to escort an intoxicated Parker home and stick up for him against his mother whilst he slept.

The prospect of his mother being behind that door unnerved me, especially since I'd snapped at her when she told me that Parker was a bad influence. Not that I'd ever admit it to Parker. Nevertheless, insight into Parker's personal life was a rare occurrence and so when the opportunity arose, you grabbed it with both hands. An offer to come over to his house and bake was probably as rare as it got, and just as equally confusing.

He turned to me just before he put his keys in the door, face grim. "Please just ignore her."

"I've spoken to her before, you know. The night you got drunk. After you fell asleep she told me you were a bad influence."

He paused and this unreadable look came over his face. "Well, that's true."

It was the first time that I'd initiated the handhold between us, but he looked like he needed the reassurance. I tangled my fingers with his, warm and comforting. The frown that had etched worry lines onto his forehead immediately smoothed out as he stared at me. I gave his hand a small squeeze.

To most people, slipping their hand into another wasn't much of a big deal. However, I think you know me well enough by now to understand that the fact I did this willingly was pretty massive for me. I held back a smile, proud of myself.

Damn, it felt good to have some sense of control.

Parker was grinning. He leaned forward, keys forgotten, and planted a tentative kiss to my forehead. "You're getting better." He hummed.

I let out a shaky breath. "I'm trying."

"And it's working."

We entered the house and I followed hot on Parker's heels as he made a beeline for the kitchen. It was pretty plain, just like the rest of his house, and I couldn't help but think that it didn't feel very lived in. No photographs on the walls, no old drawings stuck to the fridge with magnets. Everything was too neat, too shiny and brand new, almost as if it were about to be put up for sale. It made me feel a little upset. Perhaps it was the reason he constantly insisted he visit my house rather than the other way around. That and because of his mother.

"You say you don't cook," I pushed myself up onto the kitchen counter, watching as he retrieved the ingredients and began weighing some. "But you've just prepared everything to make a cake in less than a minute and now you're weighing things without even referring to a recipe. Is there something you aren't telling me?"

He seemed to be suddenly fascinated by the flour he held. "Maybe I memorised it to impress you. You know that I'm good at making the ladies swoon."

"Don't buy it, Heywood."

"Whatever."

I tilted my head, staring at the flour he was in the middle of sieving. He'd definitely done this before for it looked almost second nature. "So what exactly is the point of my presence if you're the next Gino D'acampo? I told you numerous times over the phone that the only things I can make are a mean Pot Noodle and a decent bowl of Cornflakes. My toast game isn't even that strong. Sometimes it pops out half warm bread, half crisp."

"You're here to spectate and entertain me. Then we eat the cake."

I was about to make a comment about him being weird before realising it'd be extremely hypocritical of me to do so. "Alright... Entertain," I paused. "Let me think."

He chuckled. "You don't need to try. You just entertain me by being you."

"I see." I wandered over to the fridge, helping myself to a yoghurt pot and finding a spoon out of a nearby drawer. If Parker made himself at home in my house, then I didn't have a problem acting like him here. "Where's your mum?"

"We had a fallout this morning." He shrugged. "Might be out avoiding me, might have gone out to get some more alcohol. Who knows."

I wasn't sure how to respond so I chose to play it carefully. "Is she mad at you?"

"I assume so seeing as smoke was pretty much exuding from her ears." He sighed. "Honey, can we maybe not talk about my mum?"

"Fine, let's talk about this weak yoghurt." I moved my spoon about the pale gloop that didn't taste normal, nor did it have the right consistency. "There's something wrong with it."

He raised his head from the mixing bowl to look over with a frown. His eyes landed on the pot within my grasp. "That's because it's Philadelphia cheese."

"That explains it." I placed it down on the counter next to me and smacked my lips together, displeased. "However, it doesn't explain why it was in a yoghurt pot."

"Because its container burst and I'd finished a yoghurt. Used my initiative. How did you confuse it with yoghurt? I literally labelled the top of it cheese in bright red pen." He laughed, closing the oven door whilst muttering something about golden entertainment.

I stared at him in surprise, ignoring his jibes. "You're done already?"

He shrugged. "Maybe I've made a cake before. If you tell anybody, you're dead."

"Why did you invite me over to supposedly entertain you if you're so self conscious about your cooking abilities?"

"Information exchange?" He proposed after a moment of thought. "I'll tell you why if you tell me something you've never told anyone else before?" It sounded like a dare. His secretive nature seemed to be revolving around this random cake and if I said I wasn't curious, I'd be lying.

"Fine." I agreed reluctantly.

The sound of a door slamming came from the end of the hallway and I jumped. 

"Could you be any fucking louder?" Parker shouted to the source of the noise, face scrunched into an infuriated scowl.

Around a minute later, a familiar woman entered the kitchen. She tucked a strand of her windswept blonde hair behind an ear, identical hazel eyes to her son's boring into my own. She seemed confused. "You again?"

I glanced nervously at Parker but he was too busy glaring at his mother to realise. "Excuse me?"

"I'm surprised you're back, is all." Her eyebrows were still raised and she looked between myself and her son. "Girls don't usually come here more than once, isn't that right Parker?"

He tensed beside me. "Mum-"

"One night stands are usually your thing. Disgusting, really."

"Mum. I swear to fuc-"

"What was it that you once told me? You liked to nail and bail, wasn't it? My son has no shame, you see."

"Are you honestly going to start with this shi-"

"Well, I think we established on my last visit that I'm not going to be scared off. I know what I've gotten myself into by hanging out with Parker and I know what he's like. Is this what you do with everyone he invites around? Forgive me for thinking that it's a little low of you to try and put off his friends from visiting by spilling his past behaviour. How do you know that he hasn't changed?" I'd said the sentences so fast that it felt as though the entirety of my short speech had been one massive word. My cheeks were hot, embarrassed from my sudden outburst. If they hadn't made sense of any of it, perhaps it would be for the best. Unfortunately, the way that the two sets of hazel eyes were trained on me, I could tell that they'd heard every word.

"We're going to my room." Parker said, sending his mother a parting glare and snatching my hand. I trailed behind him as he dragged me upstairs. He shut his door behind us.

"I'm sorry-" I began.

"Nobody's ever really done that for me before. Gave my mum a piece of their mind, I mean." He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. "Thanks."

"I don't know what came over me, I just-" My face had never gotten so heated than it had in the past twenty four hours and the root problem seemed to be the boy standing before me. "She probably thinks I'm weird."

"You're honestly worrying about that?" He laughed, looking at me fondly. "Everyone thinks you're weird."

I pouted. "Gee, is that honestly how you try to win girls over?"

"Who said I'm trying to win you over?"

If I was standing in mud and there was a shovel to hand, I didn't doubt I'd begin digging my own grave. At least it would give me something to do and the option of escape was there, unlike my frozen position sitting on the edge of his bed whilst Parker stared at me in amusement, clearly awaiting an answer. 

"Why did you want to make a cake today and why are you being weird about it?" I practically shouted my question as though the volume would erase my mistake.

Thankfully, he seemed to be letting it drop. "If I tell you this, you're telling me something nobody else knows too, right?"

"Yeah." I agreed.

He let out an exasperated sigh. "Remember when I told you about Olivia? My sister that...died in a car crash when she was eight? Well, today's her birthday. I always make her a cake. It's sort of stupid," He paused. "Because- I mean, I'm the one who eats it. It's just tradition, I guess. Nobody ever talks about her. Mum doesn't want a reminder so she's pretty sensitive whenever the topic comes up. I just feel like I need to do something for her. Nobody else does so..." He trailed off.

"It's not stupid. I'm sure she'd appreciate not being forgotten." Knowing I was never really one to be good with words and that Parker didn't particularly enjoy sympathy, I decided to launch straight into my chosen story. "Something I haven't told anyone before? When people ask about about my dad, I just tell them he's gone and so they presume he's dead. Truth is, he's not. He left us after my tenth birthday and we don't really know why. He sent my mum this stupid message saying that it was for the best if he was no longer with us. 

He worked on the police force. We were close and so he took me there a lot to see how things worked, stuff like that. That's why I got so quiet when we ended up in that stupid police station. It was the first time I'd been there since he left us. That and the fact his picture was still on the wall in the group shot of the team. I hadn't seen his face in ages." 

His eyes locked with my own and I knew that he understood I didn't want his sympathy just like he hadn't wished for mine. "Do you have anything of his? To remember him by?"

I shook my head. "I don't remember where his stuff went. Mum probably has some of it stored away somewhere for safe keeping. I wouldn't want it anyway."

"I was pissed off when my dad left. He visits sometimes, not very often. I wear this," He rummaged around the small pile of dirty washing he had at the foot of his bed until he found the article of clothing he was looking for. It was his bomber jacket. When he wore it, it was obvious it was a few sizes too big for him yet he still managed to pull it off in a I'm-supposed-to-look-like-this kind of way. "To remind me of him. It was his."

I hesitated before asking my question. "Do you miss him?"

He lifted one shoulder into a half-hearted shrug as he examined the sleeve of the jacket. "Sometimes. At first I was just angry that he'd left us, angry that he left me when he knew that mum was off in her own world after Oli's death, but I realised that I didn't need him to be there. I could look after myself just fine. I mean, when he was younger he did the same."

"What do you mean?"

"He didn't get along with his parents so he decided to join the army. See this patch?" He showed me the embroidered patch sewn onto the sleeve of the jacket. It was simple, circular with bold writing that read United States Army. "That was from when he first joined. He didn't know what he was getting into, not really, yet when he came back years later and met my mum, it was with medals and memories and stories of the people he'd helped. He learned to not only just look after himself, but other people too. If he could do that without any support, then I don't see why I can't either. I'll be able to look after myself perfectly fine." His last sentence was quieter, less surely and lacking conviction.

A rush of something warm spread throughout my entire being, right from the tips of my fingers to my toes. I couldn't exactly pinpoint what it was, but I knew that the boy who sat next to me was possibly the most misunderstood and loving person that I'd ever come across. He had so much more depth to him than people thought. Who else had seen this side of him? Had anyone? Just as I'd come to this realisation, I came to another much greater one.

Skylar had most definitely been right.

I felt suddenly aware of just how close we were sitting by one another. With Parker's hand propping himself up mere inches away from my legs that felt bare when in tights rather than jeans. I imagined us closer, the intimate images of us in the stupid tent springing to mind. The thought brought a hot flush to my cheeks, but I couldn't bring myself to look away from him. I allowed my gaze to wander over his facial features, absorbing and memorising every one of them. My eyes swept over the soft waves that fell across his forehead for once rather than being styled to swoop up, curling around his ears, to his hazel eyes, and lingered on his lips. I felt almost feverish with the immense restraint it took to keep my hands in my lap, I so badly wanted to run my fingers over his smooth, freckled face or trace his sharp jawline. I'd never felt this before— this urge to touch another person so strongly that it felt as if I was burning from the inside out. Odd, really, considering that with everyone else it was entirely the opposite. My eyes darted to meet his and it was like flipping a switch on, one that had previously kept us sitting frozen in time and staring.

He leaned forward, slow. "I'm going to kiss you now."

I let out a breath I didn't realise I was holding and closed my eyes. "I know."

"Good." He murmured, and his lips met mine. I could tell he was holding back, being careful, with no sudden movements and only soft touches. The bedsheet crackled from the shift in weight as he inched closer and cupped my face in his large palms.

Admitting to myself that I did indeed like Parker was one thing, kissing him was another. My brain told me that it was too quick, that I'd only just figured out my confused feelings and that I shouldn't complicate anything further. The safest option would be to receive the kiss rather than react to it. My arms betrayed me as they wound around his neck, dragging him nearer. I could feel his hammering heart, flush against my own, as I twined my fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck. He mumbled something incoherent as I did so, mouth pressing harder against mine.

Then, without warning, a sharp rasp on the door sounded. We both sprang apart as if the other was white hot, and I straightened up just as the door opened. It was probably the best my posture had been in years.

Parker's mother looked between us suspiciously before she said, "Whatever you put in that oven stinks. The kitchen is filled with smoke."

I jumped up, grateful for the opportunity to flee the scene, and headed downstairs to rescue the cake with Parker following suit. The kitchen smelled strongly of what I could only describe as extremely burnt toast. 

Parker brushed past me, squatting down to open the oven door. Thick, grey smoke plumed out and he began choking. "Christ, what the fuck is that?" He asked as he inspected the inside of the oven.

The house's fire alarm went off and his mother began to shout profanities at us from upstairs. I grabbed a kitchen towel, sought out the alarm and began jumping up and down like crazy, waving the towel around to convince the alarm that the house wasn't in fact burning down. With our luck, it eventually might.

I came back through and lingered awkwardly behind Parker once the job was done. He was poking around at what I presumed was all he could salvage of our cake; a few charred pieces, completely blackened and falling apart on the plate he'd put them on. The pristine white of the china only seemed to emphasise the terrible state it was in.

"On the bright side," I began. "Your alarm is in perfect working condition so whenever there's a real fire, you're definitely going to be safe."

He turned to face me, expression grim as he offered me the plate. "Want to taste?"

I couldn't decipher what his mood was. If he was joking around, if he was upset about his sister's cake, if he wanted to speak or forget about what just happened in his room. The list of my panicked thoughts seemed endless so I stopped listening to them and decided to propose something else. "How about I make us some sandwiches?"

He sat down at the kitchen table. "Knock yourself out."

So I did. I concocted a classic meal of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, sat down in front of him and offered him one. I slid the plate of burnt cake out of his line of vision in the hopes he'd forget about it.

"PB and J?" He smiled crookedly as he looked at the two lame sandwiches.

"Don't mock it, just eat it."

We ate in silence. It wasn't necessarily awkward, but the further that it stretched, the more apparent it became that there was a certain subject we weren't talking about. One that wasn't about to disappear any time soon.

"So are we going to talk about the elephant in the room or..." Parker trailed off, picking at my left over crusts and purposefully avoiding my eyes.

"I think I like you." I blurted. The thought wasn't meant to have slipped out, much less sounded so blunt. Nevertheless, it had, and so the unwanted word vomit continued. "I think I've liked you for a while and I just haven't wanted to admit it to myself because it scares me. It scares me that I like you and it scares me that I like you touching me. I also keep thinking of us kissing-" God, just stop now. Stop talking, I beg of you. "And it sounds creepy and it is creepy, but I keep getting these flashes in my brain...like random images. Of us on that stupid camping trip eating each other's faces and it's hard to describe but it feels so real- I just-"

He was just staring at me as I rambled. Sitting still, face blank, lower lip rolled into his mouth. He wasn't responding and I felt like a fool.

"I'll be going now." I stood up abruptly, chair legs squeaking against the floor in my hurry.

"Wait." Parker snagged my sleeve. "Don't go."

My face was so hot I could practically feel beads of sweat trying to form on my forehead. "I think it's better if I-"

"Look, those images aren't random. It's- they're memories. You didn't remember and I just didn't want to tell you because-" He cut himself off.

My mind was reeling. "What?"

He let out a long sigh as if psyching himself up to tell a long story. "It's Hayden."

//Sorry for missing last weeks update, it was a hectic rush for Mother's Day and it totally slipped my mind. So what did you think of this chapter? There was some Flarker(???)(I hadn't even thought about what their names would be combined)(I'm laughing)(Flarker ffs it sounds like a bird name or something) lip action there oooh. Hope you enjoyed it. You know what to do if you did! Voting and commenting makes my day!

Gif of Lucy Hale/Flora ogling Parker in the media section//