Bulletproof (#1) ✔

43: Franny

I am lounging on the couch, surrounded by chocolate and ice-cream, being the picture-perfect model of heartbreak.

"Most kids your age go outside, have a social life and oh I don't know, go to prom!"

"I'm not going to be a loner," I state.

"It's not like you're going to be the only one," Dad scoffs and I glare at him.

"I am trying to get over my breakup," I say, shovelling a spoonful of ice-cream into my mouth, letting the cold deliciousness freeze up my aching heart.

"Franny, did you eat all of the peanut butter?" my dad calls out in disbelief from the kitchen and I shrink into the couch as my cheeks heat up.

"I was craving it," I mumble and glance over to see him looking at me with hopelessness.

"Make this the last breakup, yeah?" Dad asks. "I don't think I can afford to buy enough food for any more."

I shovel more ice-cream into my mouth and turn the TV up as my dad disappears back into the kitchen. I glance at the time.

Sixteen minutes and everyone will be sitting down for dinner before dancing with their dates.

I put the ice cream down on the table and pull my legs up onto the couch, tucking them up under me. Grabbing my phone, I flick through the messages.

None from Tyler.

What am I expecting anyway? Some sort of perfect miracle? I'm not Cinderella and there is no longer a Prince Charming.

I put my phone down and reach for the remote, turning the TV off and sitting in the silence for a moment. Is this really it? Am I going to graduate and just leave everyone? Leave Tally, Ethan and Tyler in such a way?

It doesn't feel right.

It feels wrong.

The doorbell suddenly rings and my dad pokes his head out of the kitchen. "Can you get it?"

I nod and get up, my oversized sweatpants trailing along the floor as I walk. Getting to the door, I feel a slight glimmer of hope before I grab the handle and open it.

But my hope quickly falls.

"Pizza!" The guy smiles and I smile back, tightly.

I hear my dad racing over and he appears at the door, grinning down at the box of pizza. He reaches into his pocket, grabbing his wallet and pays the guy. He takes the pizza and walks back into the house.

I roll my eyes but I feel a small sadness worm its way into my chest.

Taking a step back, I grab the side of the door, pushing it closed when the pizza man walks away and someone else steps up from behind him.

A sheepish Tyler, dressed in a tux, steps forward, glancing at the pizza guy as he passes.

"Um, hi," he says. "That was meant to go a lot smoother, but the pizza guy beat me to the door."

"Oh," I say.

I glance down and suddenly feel complete mortification when I remember that I am wearing baggy sweatpants and an oversized shirt that currently has a bit of ice-cream down the front of it.

"Um . . . "

"You look great." Tyler gives me a grin and I can't help but smile back.

"You're such a two-faced liar," I say softly.

"Look Franny," he starts. "I know that the last few weeks have been hell and I know that the last few days have been just as bad, perhaps even worse though there isn't much that can be worse than being shot, sorry I'm rambling . . . "