It's Classy, Not Classic.

Sunday morning came around quickly, laying in bed at noon exactly, black sweatpants and a white tank top, white socks on my feet, I stared at my ceiling, caught up in a reverie that I was barely paying attention to. Friday night kept playing over in my head, the events playing and rewinding in my mind like a video on replay, the intense stare that happened all of a sudden and the emotion it made me feel. I felt so odd around Frank since then, but not odd as in a bad sort of way, because the feelings I seemed to feel whenever he was around were anything but bad. The butterflies got frustrating though, and my clutziness was worsening around him, dropping things and breaking things, but that only amused him and made him laugh, which would in turn make my face red with embarassment. He told me he thought it was cute, I didn't care -- I wanted to know what the hell was happening to me and why.
Snapped out of my daydream, my thoughts and my dazed state, by my dad calling me from the front hall, telling me someone was here to see me -- and I ultimately thought who in the fucking world would want to see me? I don't know anyone here except for Frank. Thats when I instantly felt my face turn red, yet again, because it was Frank, and now my dad knows who Frank is. He's probably talking to him, interogating him most likely, and Franks probably nervous, weirded out and amused all at the same time -- because apparently thats just how he is. Easily amused.
Now, I wasn't worried that my dad would be disapproving of my new friend, because my dad was pretty understandable. In fact, as lame as it may sound coming from me, my dad was somewhat cool. He was young, afterall, so he wasn't that out of the loop with todays youth -- he was practically apart of it. Frank had piercings, and had told me on numerous occasions that he planned on getting tattoo's -- a scorpion as high as he could get on the side of his neck in particular, because he didn't want to have to be forced into getting a real job by his parents someday. He wanted to be a musician, and he was pretty damn good at guitar, if I may add. Anyway, my father would most likely not have a care in the world about Frank being my new friend -- because even though Frank was pierced and wore dark clothing, in my youth, so did my father. He had a few piercings himself back in the day, evidence from photos telling me all about it, and in particular took a liking to darker clothing and harder, more upbeat and fast music. A thought in my mind was telling me they'd get along just fine.
I dragged myself out of bed, looking myself over in the mirror first to find that I fortunately looked fine, hair only messy enough that it looked like it usually did. I did run a brush through it a few times, though, dropping the brush back onto the dresser before tiredly shuffling out of my bedroom, shutting the door automatically behind me and walking down the hall in a slow pace. I'd basically just woken up, anyway, so it's not like I didn't have an excuse.
I was right, though, because as I emerged from the hall, there my father was, standing with the door open and leaning on it, a peachy smile on his face as he conversed with the one and only Frank Iero himself, who stood in the doorway. Once I was in full view, standing at the end of the hall, Franks eyes were automatically attracted over to me and he looked at me, bright hazel eyes, an even brighter and cuter smile taking its place on his lips. "Morning, sleepyhead." My father teased me as I shuffled over to them, ruffling my hair once I was there, and I gave a small grunt and flattened my hair out slightly, squinting at my dad slightly. He only laughed at me in amusement from my look that I'd given him and turned his gaze back to Frank, "I've finally met your friend that you've been keeping away from me." He joked, and Frank convulsed to himself, smiling at me.
"I wasn't, like, hiding him from you, Pa." I pointed out, "It's not my problem if you talk to him or not, I just don't want you guys becoming like, best friends. That'd be weird."
"No promises." Frank teased me, tickling my side briefly, affectionately, and I rolled my eyes playfully and pushed him away, my father giving us both curious looks. "I just came over to talk for a second, 'cause I have to get back to the record store." He told me, and I just nodded.
"Alright, I get the hint." My father said to the both of us, "I'll leave you two alone now." I rolled my eyes as he walked away, heading back down the hall to the kitchen, and I leaned on the door, flashing my teeth at Frank playfully. He simpered softly and leaned down, pecking my lips quickly and checking behind me to see if my father could see.
"So, when exactly do you plan on telling your daddy that we're an item?" He smirked down at me, tipping my chin up gently and giving me another peck on the lips.
"Soon, soon, soon." I repeated myself, assuring him, and he gave a low chuckle, giving me yet another kiss, this time on the forehead, "Sheesh, affectionate aren't we?"
"Mhm." He hummed smoothly, kissing my forehead again before kissing my lips.
I giggled, "Alright, alright, boy." I stopped him, "What'd you need to talk to me about?"
"I just wanted to know if you wanted to go to a movie later." He chirped happily, and I couldn't help but giggle at the content tone he used.
"Sure, call me later." I rejoindered and he smiled and nodded, pressing another kiss to my lips. I rolled my eyes and giggled, pushing him away. "Get back to work, mister."
"Gah." He sighed, whining, "Why do you do this to me?"
"You're the one that got the job, you did this to yourself." I reminded him and he sighed, his shoulders slumping over and his lower lip sticking out in a pout. My gut fluttered with butterflies violently, and I laughed weakly in disbelief, "Thats adorable."
His lips instantly curled and formed a mischevious smirk at me, "Good." He replied simply, and I sighed at him softly. He snickered and puckered his lips childishly, awaiting a kiss from me. Instead, I pushed him, and he made a loud whining noise, smashing his lips down against mine quickly before I could say anything. He smirked again when our lips seperated.
"Go away." I whined to him exagerratedly.
"What, no hug?" He furrowed his eyebrows at me, as if taking offense, and I let out yet another sigh, because his adorable antics were so annoyingly endearing that I just wanted to kiss him all over. He spread out his arms, resembling a child wanting to be cradled by their mother, and a cute smile played at his lips. I swung my arms around him, hugging them around his waist, and he wrapped his arms around my shoulders, squeezing me and rocking us side to side a few times for no reason, kissing the top of my head. He tipped my chin up and gave my lips a last long kiss, his hand skidding down my back, and while his lips were distracting me so extremely, I hadn't noticed his hand continuing to go down. His adventurous hand grabbed my ass and I jumped, ripping away from him.
"Frank!" I yelped, a scolding tone, and he burst out into a fit of laughter.
"I'll see you later, Kitten." He laughed, leaning in swiftly and stealing a kiss before he spun around and walked down the steps, cutting across the lawn, still laughing uncontrollabley. I squinted at him as he walked away and rolled my eyes, shutting the door and spinning around, leaning my back against the door and sighing. That boy is something else.
Walked into the kitchen after Frank had left to find my father sitting at the table eating lunch, his gaze turning to me from the folder of papers he was looking over, and he smiled crookedly. I could honestly tell you right now that I didn't like the look on his face, and I could also honestly tell you I hadn't a clue why. Hadn't a clue what he was thinking, either, because really, who knows what could be going through his mind? It's as if he's turning into Frank even after their first meeting -- I can't tell what he's thinking. Although, I'll still be able to tell what he may be thinking sometimes, hopefully. Most of the time I have no clue whats going through Franks head.
"So, it looks like you two like eachother quite a bit." My dad stated out of nowhere, cutting me off from my thoughts, and I jumped and my jaw dropped at him from where I stood behind the counter. My eyes grew wide at him as I stared at him in a faux disbelief, trying to act like I couldn't believe what he'd just said..
"Dad!" I squealed embarassedly, my face darkening because he didn't know how right he was -- I mean, we'd had sex numerous times. Who's to say we don't like eachother?
"It's cute." He teased me, and with each thing that came out of his mouth my face became darker and darker, "Ah, young love." He thought out loud, and I sighed, because here we go with one of his rants, "Puppy love," He chuckled, "but honey, promise me one thing, alright?" He awaited reassurance and I glared at him as a response, him carelessly continuing on and ignoring my warning glare, "Don't get pregnant, alright? Atleast not in highschool." My jaw dropped to the floor, basically, or atleast thats how it felt. Goosebumps erupted on my skin, as if to remind me of each night spent with Frank, the very boy my father was talking about right now -- my father may not have said he was talking about him, I know, but he implied it drastically. I stared at him, outraged that he was serious. I turned and silently left the room after that, because let's be honest, I'm not going to put up with my fathers awkward lecture about teen pregnancy and premerital sex. You wouldn't either, if you were in my shoes.