The boys start to slowly arrive at 10 minutes to seven, apart from Macks, who decides to arrive half an hour early at half six.

"Talk about an eager beaver." I say to him as I answer the door.

"Well, I was in the area..." He replies, grinning. I knew immediately that was a lie.

"Mmm, something smells good." He notices the smells coming from the kitchen as he walks through my hallway.

"Yeah, I stopped by at the store before and thought I would whip up some food."

"Well it smells like..." He sniffs dramatically "...like chicken pot pie?"

"Ding ding ding! Correct!"

He grins again "Y'know chicken pot pie is my biggest weakness. I would kill for some, anyday."

"There'll be no need for killing today mister, this pie is for free. It's my Mother's recipe actually."

"Ooo, a pie with sentimentality. Adds to the flavour."

I gesture to the living room. "You can sit in there while you wait for the others to come."

"Wait in the living room? I don't even get a house tour?"

I contemplate it momentarily. I did actually tidy the house a bit beforehand, just because. So it wasn't that messy. Plus, we had about 25 minutes before anyone else arrived; we had to pass the time someway.

"Watching you think is so cute." He comments

"Can you not?"

"So? Is a house tour on the cards?"

I sigh "Ok, fine. But don't veer off into places I don't allow you into."

"I won't." He salutes "Scouts honour."

A smile creeps onto my face. He's such a weirdo.

"Well, this is the living room, as I showed you before." We enter the medium sized room to the left of the hallway. Interior design was never one of my parents' fortes, but it did have some sort of colour scheme. The wallpaper was a nice oak colour with thin stripes, which matched the colour of the leather sofas and woven rug in the centre of the floor. The bay window overlooked the street outside, and the window sill was decorated with various pictures from my childhood, in an almost timeline of my life.

Macks began to look closely at them, and I suddenly felt self-conscious.

"I think that's enough of the living room." I quickly say

He points to one particular picture "You used to wear glasses?"

"Yeah, they were massive and chunky. Hideous, I know."

"I think they're cute."

"Of course you do." I roll my eyes.

Then we move onto the kitchen, which is to the back of the house, overlooking the garden. My kitchen is similar to my living room, with the oak coloured cupboards and dining table. However the floor tiles don a striking shade of yellow. I've never liked them.

One glance at the patio doors reminds me of the events from earlier.

What if he notices the patch of freshly turned mud in the garden? What is he asks about it? What do I say?

"Let's... go upstairs. It's so hot and steamy in here, cuz of the pie cooking."

He looks at me suspiciously. "For a house tour, I'm spending very little time in the house."

I couldn't care less to be honest. I think I was starting to regret the whole house tour thing altogether. I wasn't comfortable showing a stranger my house. It was weird.

The bathroom and spare bedroom (which just ended up being a storage room) go by in a blur, mainly because they're uninteresting. We come to my Mother's room and I immediately skip past it. There's no way he's going in there. 

Lastly is my bedroom. I'm not too sure about going in there, but he's already opening the door so I don't have time to object.

"Nice bed." He plops himself on the edge of my bed and bounces on the spot like a child. "Nice room too. Cool decor."

I look around at the room he thinks is "cool" and just see the bland grey tones of my curtains and carpet. My walls are painted eggshell, with a few random paintings that we got from auction hanging in places. The most exciting feature in my room is probably the dreamcatcher hanging over my bed, which isn't even that exciting.

I shrug "It's average."

"Don't be so modest. My bedroom is also my living room and my kitchen, so you should be grateful."

I shift my gaze to my window and notice AJ and Joe walking down the street.

"AJ and Joe are here." I say "I should go down and let them in."

Macks watches me leave the room without saying a word. Why was he just staying in my bedroom like a weirdo? Shouldn't he come downstairs?

"Coming?" I feel obligated to say just as I walk out the doorway.

"Oh yeah, yeah sorry." He leaps up and saunters to me.

Naturally, I hear the doorbell being rung a few seconds later, and when I answer the door, I see that AJ, Joe and Dean are now standing there. I am surprised to see Dean holding a six pack of beer.

"Brought some drinks." He says with a smile. AJ and Joe nod their heads in greeting, before they all step inside my house.

"Is it just me or does your house smell like chicken pot pie?" Joe notices

"Yeah, I'm making some for... dinner, I guess. Should be ready in about five minutes."

"So... where do you want us?" Dean asks

I point down the hallway to a small door leading to some stairs "The basement's just through there. My house is kinda small, you see."

"Small? This place is huge." AJ gawks. I raise my eyebrows. I wasn't used to feeling like the entitled one, but I guess most of these people lived in small flats, like Macks had described.

The boys talk amongst themselves as they go down the stairs to my basement, and I start taking the pie out of the oven.

"That. Thing. Looks. Heavenly." Macks says, eyes wide. "Can I have a quick taste?" He follows the pie with his eyes as I set it on the countertop.

"No, be patient. Everyone'll get a fair slice, including you."

"Wow, I thought I was different to you than them lot."

"Different how? What are you implying?"

"I dunno, I thought we had like a special bond or something, you're telling me you feel no connection between us?"

"Special bond? Connection? Macks, I've known you for about 6 hours for Christ's sake. And why are you making this so deep, it's just pie."

"Fine, ok, whatever. 'Just pie', is it? Y'know I don't even care, you can keep your stupid pie."

He storms off down the hallway and to the basement, and I take a moment to comprehend what just happened.

I am so confused. Were we fighting about pie or about something else? He got so offended over me not giving him some to taste and all of a sudden he says he thought we had a connection...? What am I supposed to make of that? It was like I'd just been thrown a curveball.

I shake the whole thing off and slice up the pie before plating it up, the steam exploding out of the tray as I make each slice. I count out four plates and then am about to place the fifth when I remember Macks' words. You can keep your stupid pie.

Well, whether he was being serious or not, he wasn't getting anyway. If he wants to be an impulsive prick he can get what he deserves. Nothing.

I walk down the hallway with a tray full of plates in my hand, but I can't help thinking about Macks' words. For some reason, they stung like knives in my chest. I need to get over myself, this is coming from a guy I met  a few hours ago. I can't have him hurting my feelings like that so easy.

Stupid pie. It was so bluntly insulting. His tone had been like acid spewing out of his mouth. I hated it. I hated him. He'd insulted Mother's pie, and so had insulted Mother.

And to think I fucking liked him.