Don't Go Out in the Woods Tonight...

We pull up to our house, my house, Mother and Troy slide out of the car. I slink out and turn to the car door, griping it with white knuckles. I coil my arm and...

"Kate, don’t you dare slam the car door." My mother stops my action with her tone.

Unfortunately, I am already in the motion and lunge forward to grab the door. I manage to catch the door but the door catches my jacket sleeve and the strap of my book bag.

"Help..." I whisper, struggling against the car's steel grip.

I start tearing at my sleeve with my free hand, since the book bag excludes the possibility of just opening the door. A hand grabs mine, holding it in place. I look up. Troy. of course.

"I don't know how you've lived this long," He says, no humor or joke invades his tone.

He reaches his arm around me, dangerously close to... um... 'down there.'

"Hey. HEY!" I turn my head to face him, bringing our faces within inches of each other. I take a sharp breath and turn away, just as Troy pulls open the car door. I stumble backward, and into the seemingly waiting arms of you know who. He looks down at me, one eyebrow raised.

"Can you walk by yourself," He props me up, "Or do you need me to carry you up the three front porch stairs?"

"Har har. So funny. Leave me alone." I turn away, and walk up the stairs and into the house.

Mother has disappeared, so I roam into the kitchen, Troy close on my heels. I look back at him and for a split-second, I see his façade falter as he looks around the kitchen then back to me. I sigh, and decide to practice my 'second chances' thing.

"Do you want something to eat?" I ask, opening the fridge. "Oh, and thank you for ---"

"Your welcome and yes." He moves across the floor, to stand next to me by the fridge, "I'm starving."

If he smiled when he talked he would be even more breathtakingly beautiful. But as it is, he only keeps the same indifferent expression.

I roll my eyes, and then start a somewhat epic search of the refrigerator, looking for food. I settle for making my own chicken quesadillas, and pull out the stuff for them.

I'm giving Troy a brief tour of the kitchen, when Mother pokes her head in from the living room. I turn to her and find that she's wearing her school clothes; a black suit, with pale blue pinstripes.

"Oh good, you're getting along." my mother says like she expected pots and pan to be flying everywhere. "Kate, dear, I have to go or I'll be late, and your father is stuck in traffic; he just called. So I trust that you two can exhibit mature behavior for an hour or two until he comes.
I'm a wrong?"

"No, Mother." "No ma'am." We can be--" "mature."

"Good! And Good-bye!" Mother says on her way out the door. It slams shut and I listen as the car pulls away.

I glare at Troy, standing beside me. Finishing my sentences? Who do you think you are, huh?

"Guess I'm the house guest." He looks down to me.

He steps back over to the stove, leaving me standing in the middle of the kitchen, flying pan in hand. I look at the cast iron skillet, and then at the back of Troy's head.

I smirk and step forward, towards this unwanted house guest. If he only holds still, he won't see me stalking up behind him. I lift the pan, wondering if this is a joke for me, or if I really am going to---