I stared at the ceiling and listened to Taylor Swift wishing she could go back to December. Before that, I listened to Bruno Mars swearing he'd catch a grenade and Ed Sheeran wanting to get drunk when he wakes up.
I turned to look at my clock on my bedside table. Six thirty-five in the evening. My parents were home for almost two hours already.
I had hoped listening to music would help me calm down after I tried reading. But boy, was I wrong. I just couldn't get the fact that my parents were at home out of my mind.
Rolling over my bed, I grabbed a pillow from the headboard and used it to smother my scream.
My parents were here.
Holy cow, my parents were here!
I hadn't told them about having a boyfriend. I hadn't told them that my boyfriend was rough-looking but hot. I hadn't told the
