I can't stand my mother when she's upset, not one bit. Her eye's get puffy with anger and her ear's get a beet red. I sat on the couch listening to her lecture me about what had happened on the bus while also bandaging one of my eye's. It wasn't like he didn't deserve what was coming to him, he had it coming a mile away, but I never thought of the fact that he might be ten times better than me at throwing a punch. I took boxing back when I was 9 but never really went into the sport all that good. I knew how and where to punch but wasn't prepared for him to be really good at punching back, I have to admit though, while angry, he looked really ho-

"Are you listening to me?!" My mom yelled, making me remember where my train of thought had gone and immediately blushed. 

"Ya. Ya, I am." I said not so reassuringly. She looked at me with stern eye's and we both jumped at the sound of the doorbell. 

"Stay here." She said quickly, getting up to open the door. She made a quiet gasp and I immediately wanted to know who was at the door. 

"Why hello there, can I help you, young man?" Her voice was one of an actual mother unlike 3 seconds ago.  

Just then, a familiar voice came up, I wanted to disappear. "Yes, I need to actually apologize to Pinny, unlike that lame one I came up in the office." 

His voice was as smooth as silk and yet cold as ice. It killed me. 

"Sorry, are you the boy who punched my son?" My mom asked, her hand on her hip as she leans against the door ever so slightly.

"Unfortunately, yes. But by the way you are looking at me, you really want to punch me too. Don't worry though, he got me pretty good." I snickered.

My mom scoffed, looked at me from behind the door, and said, "Pinny's right here, you may come in if you promise that nothing will happen while I go get something real quick, got it?" You could tell she meant it too. 

He walked in, taking my breath away very quickly. He had on a blue shirt that looked too formal for its own good, and pants that were clearly bought that day. But what made me gulp was his hair, it was brushed back, showing his eye's in the most beautiful of ways. It was combed back and put into a small bun in the back. Help me, Lord.

I looked at him and right when his eye's met mine, he smiled, almost devilishly. "Hello, church boy." He said, smug as ever. 

"Hello, vampire." I snapped back, scoffing as he set on the couch across from me. 

"Why are you here?" I asked, forgetting about the disappearance of my mother.

"My mom is an as-" "Shh!" I shushed him, causing him to go wide-eyed.

"Why?" He questioned but odiously understood the situation as his lips turned into a smile. 

"You can't cuss in my house, or every really, it's a sin and I won't tolerate it in my living room at all." 

He stood up and began walking around the living room, picking up a cross on the shelf. 

"A sin, huh?" He said coldly, looking at me with the cross still in hand.

"Y-yes," I said quietly, not trusting my voice, "Yes, it's a sin and holding the cross like that it too, put that do-" He stepped closer, completely ignoring me.

"What are you doing tomorrow?" He asked, promptly cutting me off. 

"What?" I asked. Where was he getting at? 

"What. Are. You. Doing. Tommorrow?"

He said, punctuating every syllable. 

"I don't know, why do you want to know?" I snapped getting up off of the couch, grabbing the cross from out of his hand and putting it back in its original place. He snickered. 

"You want to hang out sometime?" He asked, keeping a reasonable distance between us but still stepping a bit closer. 

"Why? You made it pretty clear that you hate my guts." I said, crossing my arms across my chest, ignoring the slight sting in my gut as I finally look at his lip, which was a very impressive mixture between red, blue, and purple. 

"I don't hate you," He said, looking at me with a small smile that killed my knowledge just a little bit, "I just think you're slightly annoying." 

I gulped, "Is there a difference?" 

"Yup, and a big one too." He took his hand out of his pockets and held it out to me, "Truce?"

I looked at the hand and back at him, wondering why?

I took his hand in mine, jumping internally at the warmth of his hand against mine. He brought it back and placed it in his pocket. 

"Friends?" I asked, leaning against the couch. 

"Friends."