It was all sort of humorous to Imogen.
She had been so nervous, trying to keep Jake at arms length by avoiding meeting his family thing entire time. To say she had her guard up was an understatement. But it had been two months and truth be told, the more she talked to the boy in plaid, the more she realized that he was the last person who would ever hurt her. He had been so patient, kind and loving to her these past eight weeks and the one thing he wanted was for her to meet his family. Of course that meant going into Clare Edwards's home and possibly running into her in the comfort of her own home. It also meant being put under a microscope by people like Clare Edwards and Jake Martin, people Imogen normally didn't get along with. She spent a good portion of the week being anxious and wanting to escape from it somehow.
But when Friday came around and the girl found herself sitting on her bed, staring at her closet, she suddenly wondered why she was making such a fuss about it. It was dinner with his parents. It wouldn't change anything if they didn't like her and if they liked her, that was great. Right? So why bother? She found no reason to want to find the most 'normal' outfit or keep her hair down and be forced to deal with the knots when she came home hours later. Jake wanted them to meet her, not some other girl. And who cared what people thought? Sure, they were her boyfriend's parents. But at the end of the day, she figured if she was on her best behavior, nice and could hold conversation, then whatever she wore wouldn't matter.
Of course, Imogen didn't think she was anything short of interesting. She didn't realize that Helen was a little judgmental or that Glen was used to the blonde, leggy girls that Jake was normally tied to. She didn't think her statements were any quirkier than she intended them to be or off, so as she slipped on a kitten patterned, cream and black dress, bow patterned tights, her combat boots and a black jacket, she didn't think that all together, with her off-attire and odd statements, Jake's parents would be a little put off themselves, to say the least. And as she put her hair in a high bun and wore her bright green eyeshadow, she thought she looked just wonderful.
With a smile on her face and her nerves in place, she walked down the steps, finding her father on the couch, sketching. The zippers on her boots caught his attention though and he looked her over, brow furrowing, "I thought you said you were going to Fiona's."
It was a surprise to Imogen that her father remembered her friend's name, much less could put two and two together and was realizing that his daughter looked a little more dressed up for just a hangout at a friend's. It was even more shocking that he was actually voicing his concern, too. Normally, he shrugged it off and let it happen; as long as she came home in one piece, he was fine. And even then, Imogen, in the past, wasn't sure how his father would react if she didn't come home. Would he turn into more of a recluse and blame himself or actually feel the desire to find her?
She decided not to think of this, though. Not just then. Her night was big enough and the last thing she needed was to upset herself. Shrugging, she glanced to the door, "Erm, yeah. But we might do something later and I want to be ready for it. So... Yeah. I'll be back later!"
Her father looked pensive, unconvinced and almost as if he wanted to question her further. He looked as if he wanted to suddenly take on the fatherly role and that got under Imogen's skin. He should have been like this for the past ten years, but he hadn't been and he couldn't start now, now that she was seventeen and ready to make her own decisions. She didn't let him get a word out. Instead, she turned on her heel and rushed out of the house before her father could further ruin her day. Besides, this wasn't about him. Tonight was about her and Jake and the big step they were taking in their relationship -- big, but nothing worrisome, she figured naively.
The sun was setting as Imogen walked through the streets of Toronto, bustling with people figuring out what to do with the starts of their weekends. But Imogen knew how she'd be spending hers, her feet guiding her to her destination, a place she'd been before and when the house came into view, the butterflies started up. Two months and Jake Martin still had his way with her. She had seen him just hours previously, when he had dropped her off home from school and they had spent more than enough time in his red truck, 'stalling.' But even so, she still couldn't wait to see him, kiss him, be beside him and spend time talking to him. She almost wished this wasn't about meeting his parents, that they could just be alone, call in a pizza and cuddle on his couch.
But either way, Imogen was happy. She was smiling as she rang the doorbell and it seemed to take a moment, but when the door flew open, she caught the nervous look in her boyfriend's eye. It disappeared just as quickly though, when his eyes scanned over her and a smile appeared on his face instead. He said nothing, merely leaned down, taking her in his arms and giving her a kiss. She couldn't help herself, she giggled against his lips, pulling away only to tease him, "Hello to you, too, mister."
She glanced into the home, the aroma of food wafting around them immediately as she stepped inside, her hand suddenly in Jake's. She grinned at him, "Ready as I'll ever be!" She noticed that he was slowly reverting back into the anxiety and leaning up, she gave his jaw a light peck, whispering in his ear, "This'll be a piece of cake, don't worry." With that, she gave him an encouraging smile before tugging him along, towards the kitchen where voices and the sizzle of food being made could be heard.
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