only seventeen ♬ red hot chili peppers anthony kiedis fanfiction

Chapter 4

As I'm getting ready for school, I can't help but feel tempted to pick up that folded piece of paper on my dresser and call Anthony's number. But I really have no idea what I would say. The clock reads 8:00. I suppose I still have half an hour to get ready before I'm supposed to be at school.

I grab the paper and jog down the staircase, pick up the phone and slowly punch the numbers in. I look around to make sure no one is behind my shoulder, when Anthony picks up on the third ring.

"Hello?" he answers.

"Hey, it's Wren."

Excitement in his tone, he said, "Hi, how are you?"

"Morning," Dad greets me as he walks in through the back sliding door, carrying a newspaper in one hand and a coffee mug in the other.

"Morning," I mouthed back.

"Who's on the phone?" he asks, setting the mug down.

"One sec," I tell Anthony, covering the phone on my shoulder. "I'm talking to Ashley, Dad."

"Have you had breakfast yet?"

"I will in a minute," I hold the phone back up to my ear, "back."

"Everything alright?" Anthony asks.

"All good, that was just my dad."

Dad eyes me for a moment before picking his mug back up and walking away, unamused.

"Right. You know, this may sound a bit sudden, but how would you like to go on a date with me?"

I chuckle to myself, hoping he didn't hear. I lower my voice and said, "I've got school today."

"How 'bout I pick you up after school?"

"You're dreaming," I said.

In other terms, in what lifetime will my parents allow it?

"About you? Yes. Might just write a poem of how beautiful you are, too."

"You write poems? No kidding, I write poems too."

"You're serious?" he asks, although it sounds more like a statement.

"Undeniably."

He chuckles at that.

I twirl the phone chord around my finger for a moment, until Mom snaps me back into reality when I hear her footsteps in the kitchen. I can feel her study me for a moment. When I look over to her, she smiles, pretending to make breakfast; I glance to the clock. I have twenty minutes before I have to leave.

"Hey listen, I wish I could talk more but I have to get going soon," I said. "Got a long day ahead of me, not to mention walking to and from school," I mention distastefully.

"No problem, thanks for calling. Wish we could've talked a little more." He chuckles again. "I'd like to know more about you, Wren."

I bite my lip. "Me too."

I feel Mom's curious eyes on me again. "Gotta go."

I'm about to disconnect before, "Wait."

"Yeah?"

"What about our date? You never answered."

I turn around and quietly, doubtfully respond, "Gee, I don't know."

It occurred to me that he's either oblivious or just doesn't care about the ten year age gap between us. I don't know why that doesn't make me feel uncomfortable, it usually would. Perhaps because I'm gravitating to his handsomeness. But then again, I'm sure he does know; I'm a short teenager who obviously doesn't look anywhere near his age.

"Oh come on, I have to thank you for taking care of one of my best friend's daughter. I didn't get to repay you last night."

I place a hand on my forehead. He's too nice. Yeah, that's the issue.

"You don't have to repay me," I say in disbelief at his kindness.

"Pretty please," he says. "Please." I can only imagine his smirking right now; I can feel it over the phone.

I chuckle in disbelief. "I can't, I'm sorry."

I hung up before he could say anything more, and mentally slapped myself on the forehead. When I'm nervous, I don't tend to articulate myself in a formerly correct manner much to what I'm used to. Irritating nerves. The new proclaimed, not only self titled idiot, is me.

"Who was that?" Mom asks like a schoolgirl eager to get the gossip from her friends.

It didn't look like I was having a chat with Ashley, so it tell Mom, "Ethan." I take a sip of orange juice she poured for me.

Ethan is a friend of mine, we've known each other since we were babies. He attends St James Catholic School, I attend St Belle's.

Mom raises her brow. "You like him?"

I spit a little. "Not really," I said, trying to sound casual.

I take a piece of bread and pop it in the toaster.

"He's a nice young, handsome Christian boy, it's okay if you do."

"Well I don't. We grew up together, It feels like we're siblings."

"What's all this about a boy?" Dad asks.

"Nothing," I said.

"If you're going to school, don't you think you need a little more to eat than one piece of bread?"

"No time," I lied, secretly not wanting to eat so my thighs don't grow any bigger than they already are. Mom calls it 'voluptuous,' I call it fat.

Changing the subject so I don't get asked a million questions, I said, "Dad you can wait for me in the car? I'm almost ready."

"Just want you to know that if there's anything you want to talk to me about, I'm here. I love you," says Mom.

"Just like you tell me everyday."

I don't know whether this has to do with my eating choices, or boys. I'll take it as both.

My toast pops out.