Episode 2

He turned slightly, looking back and forth between the stranger and his mom, still red in the face, the skirt swaying slightly with his movement. The situation somehow managed to get *more* confusing.

*Who even is this guy? Why is Mom calling him ‘Mister’? He doesn’t look that much older than me!*

AJ just stood there, his face turning a shade of red that could rival a tomato. He felt like every part of him was exposed, and it was all because of his mom's sewing obsession.

Mr. Hart gave him a polite, almost sympathetic smile, like he’d seen his fair share of awkward moments. “Nice to meet you, AJ,” he said casually, his tone friendly but neutral, as though the skirt situation was nothing out of the ordinary.

AJ managed a stiff nod, too mortified to even offer a greeting. His throat felt tight, and he wished he could just teleport out of the room. *This is beyond embarrassing. I’ll never live this down.*

His mom, still oblivious to his inner turmoil, simply continued on with the conversation like everything was normal. “So, what brings you by, Mr. Hart?” she asked, her voice light and cheerful.

Mr. Hart’s expression shifted slightly. “Actually, I was hoping to ask if you’d be able to help with a project,” he said, looking at AJ for the first time more seriously. “It’s kind of a personal thing, but I figured I’d stop by and talk to you about it.”

AJ blinked, still a bit dazed from everything happening so fast. He wasn’t sure whether to be curious or just retreat to his room and hide.

His mom, of course, didn’t miss a beat. “Oh, I’d be happy to help with anything! You know that!” she said, eager as ever.

I was just in my room the whole time while they talked… probably about business or whatever. Honestly, I wasn’t listening.

After that humiliating door scene, I escaped the moment I got the chance. I didn’t even take the skirt off right away—I just flopped onto my bed like a half-dressed ghost of embarrassment.

Now I was lying face down, scrolling aimlessly through social media with one leg awkwardly kicked up, the unfinished fabric still hanging off my waist like a reminder of my suffering.

Occasionally I could hear bits of their voices from the living room—muffled, calm, adult-ish. No yelling, so probably business. Or something boring. Either way, I didn’t care.

I was too busy double-tapping memes and trying to forget that some guy named *Mr. Hart* saw me wearing a skirt like it was a normal Tuesday.

*Oh yeah. I was thinking about buying her a mannequin.*

Still half-buried in my bed, I switched apps and started scrolling through online shops. There had to be a cheap one out there somewhere. Something that stood upright, didn’t complain, and could replace me in future skirt-related crimes.

I was halfway through reading reviews on a suspiciously affordable mannequin listing when I heard my mom’s voice float down the hallway.

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***