So what, maybe I'm overreacting, but I know I'm right. I don't why they're pushing so hard on this, I don't need to be in a relationship. When I feel the need to date someone, I will, but for now they can all fuck off.
What type of family would pressure their child to date? First it was my sister always pestering me about my love life, and then my father asking when I was going to get a girlfriend. And to that sentence, I told him I liked boys, and he asked when I was getting a boyfriend; glad he doesn't care if I was actually gay. I think my mother doesn't really care much, she asked me if I ever had a crush, and I told her no. That was the end of that.
Now I'm practically fuming as I stomp down the street. All I want is for my family to accept that I'm just not ready for a relationship. For fucks sake, I'm only 17, it's not like I'm getting married right away. And when I do find myself someone, I want it to be the right one.
"Yo! Floptop, what's up kid," my friend Wyatt calls.
He crosses the street to me from his family's bakery. I smile as his apron whips in the wide as he jogs over to me. Any other person would probably be frightened to see a buff teenage black kid barrelling toward them, but to me he is just a giant softy.
Wyatt is, as I described, very bulky, he works out almost every day. Because of this, no one would ever suspect he's the gayest boy they've ever met. Of course, that's because most people have a shitty image of homosexuals, but he is proud of himself.
"What up, Breadboy," I smile up at him.
"You still up for the kickback on Saturday?"
He throws his arm around my shoulder and walks with me for a bit. I nod my head in response and he chuckles, dropping his arm. We stand face to face on the corner as people rush past us, trying to get on with their lives.
"It's been 15 years, and you still go mute on me," he laughs at my silent response.
"What can I say, I'm a silent kid," I shrug.
We both laugh at this until his phone starts to ring in his apron. Wyatt curses under his breath as he looks at the screen before he answers the call. I fist bump him in replacement of a farewell, and he bounds off back toward the bakery. Smiling at my best friend, I continue my walk, thoughts from early completely gone.
Do I really want to go the kickback Saturday? Of course it's not like this huge party, just a couple of friends getting together and chilling out, but do I really want to go? I've kept to myself most of the summer, only going out when absolutely necessary, so maybe I should get out for the weekend. And it would be nice to hear what everyone has been up to. Yea, I'm definitely going on Saturday.
Pulling out my phone, I frown once again at the single crack running diagonally across the screen. I don't even remember how it got there, I was way too high that day and things turned into a haze. Unlocking the screen, I open up my music as I also untangle my headphones. Nothing like the sound of Fall Out Boy in the evening. Stuffing my phone back in my pocket, I walk with my head down and focus on feet.
When I glance upward, a very bright sign makes me blink in wonder. Whose ever sign that is, they must really want people to see it. I keep walking past the sign, rounding a corner, until I see another equally as bright sign as the last. Blinking rapidly, I pick up my pace to escape the blinding color of the poster. Every other block or so, I look up to see a brightly colored sign; by the eighth time I see the sign, I think I've gone blind in my left eye.
Tired of seeing the sign practically every where I turn, I rip one from it's post. Right before I crumble the piece of paper, I notice the word at the top of the page in bold black letters.
SALE!
My interest is slightly piqued, but even still I crumble the paper and shove it in my pocket. Rubbing my eyes, I make my way back to my house and grumble about my retinas being damaged. Who would put someone through the torture of looking at such a bright sign, a cruel person that's who.
I've calmed down now from the squabble with my father, but am slightly irate from the poster nearly blinding me. Bright colors really irritate me if you haven't noticed, I am more partial to dark colors, preferably black. Although my favorite color is that of a pale rose, I just find it to be a really nice shade.
"Where'd you go," Fiona asks, taking a bite out of her powdered doughnut.
"For a walk dear sister, if you must know," I reply sharply.
I keep going past her into the kitchen, and I immediately open the fridge. How the hell can we have so much money, yet our fridge is fucking empty? Broke ass rich people, my family really piss me off, do they do anything right? Slamming the door closed, I stomp up to my room on the third floor and slam that door as well.
"Kieran Anthony Lane," my father yells from a floor below, but I turn on my stereo to drown him out, "Answer me young man!"
His voice becomes louder and so does my music, he'll get the message soon enough. But it he doesn't get the message, instead he comes barging into my room in a rage. I curse under my breath at myself for not locking the door, but sit up from my laying positon on my bed. Staring at him intently, I try to assess his level of anger; I'm giving it a definite five.
"Is there a reason you are in my room without permission," I scoff at him.
"You are pushing my limits boy, don't you ever walk out when I'm talking to you again," he seethes.
A dry laugh comes from my throat, and I just shake my head as I lay back in bed. From the corner of my eye, I see him clench his fist tightly, and a smirk plays on my lips. I was wrong, his anger level is definitely an eight and on the rise. When he gets to ten, it's pretty nice, that's when he becomes violent and starts to break things. But he is a changed man, I forgot, he can control his anger better now. What a load of bullsh-
"Shouldn't you be doing something productive with your life, instead of just sitting on your ass," he picks at me.
"And shouldn't you be screwing a twenty-five year old blonde with large breasts," I quip in return. He take a step toward me, and my smirk grows into a smile. Is Mr. "Changed Man" breaking what he was in treatment so long for? "Are you going to hit me Frank, because if you are, just do it already."
Instantly he freezes on the spot, am I not on a nerve hitting roll today? First it was the relationship argument, then I guess me slamming the door, now because I'm not doing anything with my life? Damn, I really am good at what I do, and that seems to be pissing people off to no end. And to be quite honest, this doesn't happen very often, so when it does I take full advantage of it. Silence after all is deadly, and people wonder why I don't talk very much.
Again glancing from the corner of my eye, I can practically see the smoke blowing from his ears. This time a hearty laugh erupts from my lips as I sit up on the bed to look directly at him. Anger and confusion cover his face, and I just continue to laugh at him.
"You are just like your mother, you know that," he grits.
"In what sense: being gorgeous, intelligent, or sick of your bullshit," I remark.
"Sadly all of the above," he buffs, his chest deflating in defeat, "I'm sorry, Kal."
I wave him off dismissively, and I begin to remove my shirt as it had become increasingly humid in the room. He turns to leave the room, but stops abruptly with his hand on the door handle. Quirking an eyebrow at him, I stop in my actions as well with my shirt half off.
"I, um, I love you," he mumbles unsurely.
"Love you too," I chuckle, fully removing my shirt.
After the door shuts, I turn the stereo on again and try to sleep.
$ $ $ $ $
"Come eat, Kal," Fiona tells me, popping her head in my bedroom door.
"Do you people not know how to knock," I demand, slowly getting up from my bed.
Rubbing my eyes, I try to get the sleep out of them. I had just woken up when she came calling me for dinner. Shuffling to the door, I push her head out of it and then exit my room. Flipping me off, she sashays down the stair and I roll my eyes as I follow behind her. I still find myself wondering why a twenty-one year old female, would want to still live with her parents.
Entering the dining room, I look at the table that is set with food from one end to the other. How is this even possible, there was next to nothing in the fridge when I looked in there, and now this? Instead of sitting, I go into the kitchen and open the fridge: food is on every shelf. You have got to be fucking kidding me, he must have went grocery shopping after I fell asleep. Slamming the fridge closed for the second time today, I go back into he dining room where Fiona is already sitting down.
She looks up at me with a frown on her face, but I ignore the look and sit down opposite and diagonal from her. Our father comes in not even a minute after, but he isn't alone, the large breasted blonde I had mentioned earlier enters behind him. I snort loudly, letting everyone know of my disdain for the woman; she's why he made dinner, not because he actually gives a fuck about us eating.
"Hello to you too Kal," she rolls her eyes.
"It's Kieran to you, Jesabel," I snap at her.
"You will speak to Jessica with respect, son," my father says calmly, pulling out her chair.
She sits down, staring up at him with her big blue eyes, and he kisses her on the cheek then the lips. I turn away in disgust, already losing my appetite before I have even eaten anything. Do they really have to do that while we're about to eat, like have some decency. When I hear his chair scrape into place, I face forward again and reach for a dinner roll. Feeling eyes on me, I stop in my tracks to see everyone staring at me.
It dawns on me that we haven't said our grace yet, and I readjust myself in my chair so that I am sitting up straight. My father reaches his hand out to me, which I accept, and Jessica does the same. Raising an eyebrow at her, I question her actions, does she think I'm going to hold her hand? She doesn't take the hint, and grabs onto my hand anyway. Now I'll have to disinfect it for a week straight, great.
We bow our heads to begin the prayer, but there is complete silence. Shit, it's my turn to say it isn't it, well time to pull it out of my ass again.
"Lord, we are gathered here today to celebrate the joining of-" I begin, but am cut off.
"I'm sorry, but, are those wedding vows," Fiona wonders aloud.
She's right, they are, but I was hoping that I could get through them fast enough so no one would notice. I don't believe in any religion, so praying isn't exactly my thing; whenever it's my turn, I just ramble a little about nonsensical things and say amen. Sometimes I talk about the food, sometimes it's irrelevant to eating, but I wanted to mix it up a bit today.
"Amen," I cry, dropping both my father's and Jessica's hands.
The dinner is silent for the most part, and I'm actually grateful, I'd rather not have a recap of this morning. So when dad started asking Fiona how her day went, I kept my head down and chewed my food quickly. I will not be stuck at this table for longer than I have to, listening to them bitch and moan about nothing. That's when I felt something rub against my leg, or was I kicked?
Looking under the table, I see that Jessica has taken off her cherry red heels, exposing her nude coloured stockings. One, what woman still wears stockings, that isn't a stripper; two, did she just put her feet on me? I make eye contact with her, and she just smiles at me with those big teeth of hers. How do they even fit inside her mouth, like do they get in the way when people kiss her? Cringing at the thought of someone kissing her, I finish my food and push my chair away from the table.
All eyes are on me as I stand up, pushing my chair in and walk out of the room. They can stare all they want, I don't care what they think or say about me. Tapping my fingers on my bare chest, I wander through the house as I make my way to my room. It's rare that I am ever actually on the second floor, hell I don't even know what's on this floor. Opening one of the doors, I just stand in the door as I look at the crib pushed against the far wall of the room. There is no way in hell she is pregnant, god my little brother or sister will have whore for a mother.
Closing the door, I continue my walk around the house until I am back in my room. I climb into my bed once again, laying on my back as I stare up at the ceiling. The bastard is already having another kid, him and mom haven't even been divorced for a year yet, and he's gone and gotten some bimbo pregnant already. Snorting in contempt, I turn over on my side and fall back to sleep.
{but y'all I'm having fun with these new books, like i have inspiration and motivation to do this! like i can write this and the other two at the same time, i got this.}