Extras🎬

Gigi & Aaron <3

A/N - my message board has a little teaser for Marco's book hehe❤️❤️

DISCLAIMER - I promise this chapter/their crushes on each other are not criminal they have a 20-month age gap and are not blood related at all🫡🫡🫡🏃🏽‍♀️🏃🏽‍♀️

Okay enjoy...

~~~

Aaron

"I've never met someone who takes so long to do everything", I groaned, dropping my rucksack at my feet as I climbed into my best friend's car, "you told me you'd be here at eight". Gigi ignored me, leaning forwards until she was literally pressed against the steering wheel, staring out of the windshield and squinting.

"Sorry. I was just looking for your driver's license", she looked back at me, "can't find it".

She knew full well I was only fifteen- nearly sixteen, and couldn't drive yet; she'd been rubbing in her license ever since she got it earlier on this year. Then Uncle Caleb and Aunt Kyra got her an Audi for her seventeenth birthday, and she'd been my personal taxi since.

"You're funny", I huffed, fixing my glasses and buckling my seatbelt, "coffee?".

"My treat", she grinned, reaching over and patting my cheek, "I want some of that banana bread too". I felt my face heat up and glanced away momentarily, why was it hot in here all of a sudden?

My...crush on my best friend was just a phase- I'd get over it.

At least that's what I'd been telling myself for around five years.

"You have soccer practice after school right?", I remembered, watching her wince and nod, "what?".

"I'm your ride home, and you're gonna have to wait or-,", I didn't care about any of that; she was great at soccer.

"I'll just sit in the library, I have some studying to do anyway", I cut her off, smiling when she pulled into the Starbucks drive-thru.

"Is studying code for drawing more comic books?", she asked and I felt my face flush, "relax Ronnie, they're cool a shit- you're artsy like your dad". My dad wasn't just artsy, his work was insane. Being one of the best tattoo artists for miles meant he had people queued up all of the time- including me. But he refused to give me a tattoo until my sixteenth birthday...less than two months to go.

"It's just a hobby", I shrugged as we joined the back of the line, I adjusted my glasses and looked at her; her hair was in two puffs on either side of her head, a little different to the usual afro or braids she had it in.

"Now you sound like my dad", she rolled her eyes, digging around in her purse before facing me, "don't waste your artistic talent to do something like boxing- not that I don't love his gym- but his paintings are better". I knew that; Uncle Caleb had been the one to paint the Spiderman mural on my bedroom wall when I was six...it was still there today.

"Can you picture me boxing? I'm a lazy piece of shit and can barely even see without my glasses on", I rolled my eyes as we moved forwards slightly, "at least one of us does something active".

"Just be grateful you've never broken a bone", she chuckled, I knew full well she was the most accident prone person ever growing up, "you want anything apart from the frappe?".

"I had a big breakfast", I declined and she chuckled, "what now?".

"You had time to eat breakfast?", she asked, I frowned and fixed my glasses, "when did you get up? Five?".