“Ma told me you stopped by earlier looking for me. Sorry about that, I was, ya know — Doing some chores and shit.” She’d warned him from over the fence to stop sending people her way ; Eventually his inability to come to the door would be unexplainable, and people will ask questions. But it was too late for that. All he could do was steer Blaine away from his mother’s house. “She’s a real stickler for me finishing that stuff before I get to go do anything.” He forced in a smile, dropping himself down onto his friend’s mattress. “That and she doesn’t like people in the house. I don’t know why, paranoid I guess.”
The idea that Tate’s mother was paranoid to have people in her house when Tate made sure to warn him that she had a very bad case of sticky fingers was not only ironic but vaguely insulting. But the way she spoke when he was at the door? It felt like she was nervous. Like she’d rather have anyone but him standing there asking to see her son. Had he done something to offend her when she visited? He had no idea and she didn’t give him any window of opportunity to ask either. To say he left the doorstep confused was an understatement. Tate was here, though and Blaine was doing his best to let the whole situation go. Plopping beside him, he folded his legs up onto the bed, ankles crossed together and curled his fingers around them. “It’s okay. You’re in the clear now, right? I mean. You can stay for a while, yeah? My parents are out of town and I’m still not used to this place yet. Feels way too quiet at night.. Mostly.”
pianokeysandbowties 