Some friends called me to ask about the situation and some joked that they could make money by selling my information, but I didn’t expect to receive my parents’ call.
They asked me to bring him home and introduce him to them so that they could get to know him.
Looking at the fool beside me, I felt he might embarrass me.
Mom asked me to bring him home tomorrow.
My parents didn't like to joke and were very cold, but Michael was a humorous guy.
I was afraid that my parents wouldn’t accept Michael.
If he posted on Twitter again, I didn't want my parents to be exposed to the public.
So I decided to discuss it with him.
"I plan to bring you home to see my parents tomorrow."
Michael's eyes lit up at my words and he covered his face.
"It happened so suddenly. I'm shy."
I felt that it was impossible to turn Michael into a cool man overnight, so I asked him to pretend to be cool.
On the way home, I reminded him to be cool and he was confident and changed his usual tone.
In the living room, Michael looked up at the roof and narrowed his eyes with his hands clasped behind his back, thinking to himself, "I am cool enough."
My parents sat on the sofa and looked at each other in confusion.
I was speechless for the dumbass and even wanted to beat him up.
My father spoke first.
"Well, you don't have to pretend. We have learned about you on the Internet. We want to ask you what you like about Rose."
He cleaned his throat and made a fool of himself.
"I like her inner beauty."
Hearing his answer, I almost spit water on his face.
What nonsense was he talking about? I didn't speak to him but only had eye contact throughout high school.
To be honest, I didn’t know why he liked me.
My parents insisted on keeping him for dinner.
He behaved quite well during the dinner. He even insisted that he was full after eating a little and put down the fork to sit quietly.
He looked at my parents with a fake smile on his face and my parents couldn't even eat when he was staring at them like that.
I had no choice but to give up my favourite dish, put down my fork, and pull him to the sofa.
On the way home, he wailed in the car.
“I'm hungry. I'm so hungry. Braised pork and roast pigeon, come back to me please.”
I couldn't even roll down the window, because I was afraid people would think he was mad if they heard him.
If I hadn't been driving, I would have taped his mouth shut.
"Stop shouting. I'll take you to eat."