Fake You Out || Twenty One Pilots Fanfic || completed

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Tyler's POV
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I laid in bed thinking of what Harley had brought up about the competition earlier. Should I think about it? I mean, songwriting is more my thing but I could give it a try. It definitely would be a challenge, but I think I could take it..

I sat up and snatched my journal from my bedside and opened it to a blank page towards the back.

A story. How would I write a story..?

Come on Tyler. You can't do this, she's getting to your head.

Throwing it to the ground, I took a deep breath and sighed dramatically, running my hands through my hair.

I heard a familiar laugh coming from behind me as I turned my head.

"You really need a girlfriend."

I looked up to see Zach standing in the doorway to my room, smiling at me with his stupid intent of trying to get something out of me.

"Like you would know." I shot back.

Zach was fourteen. He's never even had a girl talk to him without me having to ask her for him. And each time that's happened, nothing worked out. So no, he couldn't know.

He rolled his eyes. Walking in, he held a basketball in one hand and his SnapBack in the other.

"How about a few rounds..."

I looked him distinctly in his eyes, glaring with pure annoyance.

"It'll make you feel better."

I looked down at the carpeted floor below me and bit the inside of my lip.

"I can't, I have homework Zach.." I suddenly remembered what he had said earlier. "You also just made fun of my inability to pick up chicks, so I'd very much like it if you'd get out of my room."

He looked at me with a facial expression of frustration.

"Come on bro." Zach whispered harshly. "One game."

Rubbing my nose with the palm of my hand, I took a deep breath and exhaled strongly, looking back up towards the ceiling.

"Fine. One game." I smirked,

"Sweet."

* * * *

"Okay, first to 11 shots doesn't have to do their laundry for a month."

I smiled. "Deal."

He bent down, trying to seem like he was tricking me, and ran right past. I turned and blocked his basket, one handed, due to my height, it happened a lot easier than you would think.

"Tyler.." Zack cried.

I spun the ball on one finger and laughed. "You know what, I am feeling a lot better."

About half an hour had passed and I already won the game. He gave up once we were at 5:9. I didn't even think he'd continue after 6.

I showered up for dinner and set the table before my mother had even finished cooking. It was starting to get dark out and my dad turned to the Buckeyes game he records every Saturday.

Most week nights we would eat dinner and finish up some of our home/school work only because we lived at our school. Everyone in my family but me stayed attached to the home schooling thing. My parents decided to send me specifically to high school to help my well being. I don't know what they were thinking, but it could have been that I don't have any friends other than my pen and notebook.

"Tyler..?" My mother cried.

I turned from the table, setting down the pot of her infamous spaghetti sauce before walking over.

"Yeah?" I asked, crossing over the table and heading into the kitchen.

She handed me the handheld home phone and smiled as she walked into the dining room.

I held the phone up to my ear. "Hello?"

"Hey. Tyler?" I heard a woman's voice ask.

"This is him," I answered.

"Hey it's Harley, from school?" She explains, sounding more like she was asking a question.

I smiled. "Hey! Harley! What's up?"

My father walks in with the most confused facial expression plastered all over his face. I stop smiling.

"Have you had dinner yet?"
She asks.

I look back at my mom. She's acting like she isn't listening in, but she shakes her head, indicating me to say no, I haven't eaten yet.

"No, not yet." I answer.

I hear a muffled laugh over the line, "Good. Meet you outside in five."

"Wha-" she hangs up before I finish.

I place the phone back in its charging spot and clear my throat.

I turn back and everyone in my house is staring at me in awe.

Still in shock, I respond. "Please excuse me from dinner tonight. I'll be back later."

My father laughs.

I walk over to the coat rack and grab my jacket from the top.

Opening the door quickly, I run outside, searching for the mystery that is, Harley.

A little while later, I hear the sound of music, blaring down the street.

I turn to look down on my left and find a pair of headlights streaming towards me.

I step back and watch as it come and pulls up in my driveway. Harley jumps out of the front seat and smiles in her little black sweater.

"Hey," I say grinning.

She waves. "Should I meet your folks?"

I bite the inside of my lip. "Well, they're kind of busy, maybe when we get back."

"Cool," She whispers. "Well, come on!"

I walk over to the right side of the car and hop into the passengers seat, trying not to hit my head on the door, due to my height.

She pulls out of the driveway without a word.

"How'd you get the number to my home phone?" I ask.

She sighs.

"Stalker.." I whisper, smirking to myself.

She looks over at me. "You know there is such thing as a phone book."

I buckle the seatbelt and continue to grin. "That doesn't explain how you knew where I lived."

The car grows quiet. "Address book..?"

Harley laughs.

"Whatever," I whisper. "Where are we going anyway?"

Looking over to her side, I see a smirk growing across her face.

"You'll see."