Love, Anonymous

Chapter Seven

Who are you thinking he is so far?

Chapter Seven

I was able to make it home without anyone else stopping me and cooked dinner for mom and dad. I always cook dinner at least one night a week to give them a break, or to teach me discipline or something like that. It's paid off though, I know how to make a mean casserole.

Cooking is an art. You throw together a bunch of absolutely random ingredients and somehow they come out as this delicious meal, sometimes.

Tonight was a hit. I cooked an easy meal since I have a crazy amount of homework waiting for me to cry on top of. I prepared simple tortellini with a homemade meat sauce, which happens to be my dad's favorite. He asked me all about school while we ate, and I felt comfort in the fact we could have a peaceful dinner for once without any tension between the two of them.

"Thanks for making dinner, kiddo." Dad says once we all finish. He messes up my hair and kisses the top of my head, taking my plate from off of the table.

He and mom clean up since I cooked our beautifully delicious meal, and I head upstairs to finish my homework. I run up our wooden stairs, almost slipping a few times due to my thin socks, and throw open the door to my room. I ditch my desk since the chair will probably break my back within a matter of a half hour, and I decide to sit on my bed instead.

I rip my constricting jeans off and change into a more comfortable shirt. As I hop onto my bed, I hear the clatter of nails racing up the stairs and not a second later Bruce and Angel come barging into my room and leap onto my bed. They lay on either side of me, snuggle up close to relish in my body heat.

I regretfully take out my pre-calc take home quiz, and from looking at the first question I swear my head is about to explode. It's a ten question, a-c on every question, quiz.

I get through about half of it before Bruce lets out a gruff sigh and stretches out, bumping my leg and knocking my pre-calc quiz out of my lap and onto the floor. I glance down at it, laying there next to a pair of jeans that I didn't bother to put away. I debate picking it up, but then again math is the devil.... I could get a serious migraine, pass out, and die.

I don't want to take that chance.

Sketchbook it is.

"Thanks Bruce," I say, patting his open stomach as my thanks. I would pat his head, but it's all the way down at my feet and I'm the opposite of flexible.

He grunts at me in response and I chuckle at him.

Leaning over, I open up the drawer of my bedside table and pull out my case of pencils, choosing a freshly sharpened one as well as a duller one. The new is for light shading, and the is dull in case I need more of a rugged feel to my drawing. I don't really know what it's going to be yet, but I'll think of something.

In the middle of my new sketch, my phone buzzes in my lap and scares the crap out of Angel. Her head shoots up in surprise and she starts looking around for the source of the noise. A growl starts forming in the back of her throat when my phone buzzes again, and I laugh as I pet her to calm her down.

"Don't worry girl, it's just my phone." I chuckle, leaning forward to kiss the top of her head.

She stares warily at my phone for a few seconds and then rests her head back down next to my chest, lying closer to me as means of protection.

(812)-673-9918: Meet me at the cafe in 30min ;)

My eyebrows draw together as I glance at the number in confusion. The area code is right for this part of Indiana, so at least I know this is someone from around here, but I haven't seen this number before.