Goody, Like Two Shoes

Frank somehow ended up staying for dinner.

I don't know whether it was awkward for him; but it sure as hell was awkward for me - with all the glances between my parents, the ones that read: "I really think they've been dating for two weeks", and "I think she really has the hots for him".

If Frank had noticed, he didn't seem to care, seeing as he continued eating the spaghetti bolognaise as if nothing was bothering him.

Oddly, my mom seemed to like Frank, though; personally, I'd have thought - if she wanted me to date someone - that he should wear an Armani suit 24/7, and be a lawyer.

But, yes, she seemed to really like Frank, even if he had piercings, unruly hair, and a small tattoo on his left wrist; and mom continued to offer him seconds, ask if he wanted more to drink, and, embarrassingly, ask him about himself.

Really and truly, I could have killed her.

Frank I weren't even friends, yet mom and dad bombarded him with questions about his home life - to which we found out that he lived with his mom - and whether he liked school - and the answer was a simple 'no'.

Well, I think that they thought Frank and I were friends - or, possibly, an item - but, luckily, they never asked us when we would be trying for a baby, or if Frank had any plans to marry me.

After dinner, mom handed Frank and I a bowl of ice-cream before shooing us into the living room, and informing us that she and dad would join us in a while - in her language, that would probably mean "Have a satisfying make-out session before we come and ask you more questions and try to suss out your love life"

When the door was closed behind us, and my mom's footsteps resounded down the hall, I sighed loudly, sitting myself down in one of the armchairs.

Frank carefully sat down on the black leather couch, saying, 'Wow, all we have is a crappy green sofa that's full of holes.'

"I'm sorry." I said suddenly, extremely interested in the multicoloured sprinkles that adorned my vanilla ice-cream.

"What?" Frank straightened himself up, "What are you sorry for?"

"You know, for my parents asking you so many questions; I know it's annoying."

"Oh, it's okay. It's actually nice to have people take an interest in my life; I mean, my mom works a lot, and I barely see her, let alone get to talk to her about my day. You're lucky"

I could feel my cheeks turn red; and I shovelled some ice-cream into my mouth hastily.

Did he just say that I'm lucky?
That boy has someserious split personality issues.

"You have a really nice house, too." Frank said, eyeing the room, "What I'd do to live here..."

I suddenly felt a pang of sympathy; it sounded like his family wasn't exactly well-off.
I had no idea what I'd do if I didn't have all the luxuries of a modern, well-equipped house - no matter how Barbie-doll-like I thought it was at times.

"Well, um, I better be getting home; homework, ya know." Frank put his empty bowl on the glass coffee table and stood up.

I stood up, too, following him into the hall where he slipped his hoodie over his head and picked up his bag and the books I had lent him.

When we were out on the porch, Frank glanced down at his watch, "Well, uh, thanks for letting me stay."

"You're welcome."

"It was nice, and I enjoyed it."

"Yeah, me too." I replied.

"Can I come over again tomorrow; just to study?" Frank asked, crossing his arms over his chest, "If you're busy, I unde--"

"No, no, tomorrow's fine, Frank."

"Okay, thanks. Well, see you tomorrow, yeah?" he gave me a small smile.

"Yes, see you then."

I waited for him to round the corner, onto the street, before I stepped back into the warm house, shutting the door behind me.

"Has Frank gone?" Mom asked, walking out from the kitchen.

"Yes," I nodded, slipping my shoes off, "But he's coming over after school tomorrow."

"Oh, that's good! He's a nice boy, isn't he? Very polite and well mannered..." she paused for a moment and then beckoned me after her, into the living room, and we both sat down on the couch, and she ever so charmingly asked "Are you two, you know, dating?"

"Mo-other!" I yelped, "No were are not; we're not even friends! We're just two people who know each other, and I'm helping him study. That's all."

"You sure?"

"Of course I'm sure!"

The next day came quickly, as did the next few weeks; and Millie and I didn't get to spend that much time together, due to the fact that homework and Frank took up 99.9% of my time.
We didn't even see each other in school that much; Frank decided that I should sit with him and his friends so he could study as much as he could - he said he didn't want his Christmas exam results to "suck as much as the other fucking exams have".

Frank's friends had finally accepted the fact that I would be sitting with them to help Frank, whether they liked it or not; and, eventually, sitting with them behind the school at lunchtime became a regular thing.

Frank also continued to study at my house; some days after school, other times on the weekend. His greetings changed dramatically, too: from a simple "Hi, how are you?", to a hug and a tin of cookies - that his mom had baked especially for me - shoved into my hands.

The more time we spent studying together, the more my mom asked me if we were dating; I could handle that, though.

Eventually, Frank turned up at my house one Sunday morning, no books with him, and informed me that we were going to spend the day at his place; eating muffins and drinking lemonade that his mom had made on one of the rare days that she had no work.

So we took a twenty minute stroll through town - that should've only taken us ten minutes, if we weren't so lazy - and finally ended up at Frank's house; this being my first time there.

The way he had spoken about his house made it sound grungy, hovel-like; but, from the outside, it looked fine, save for a few patches of peeling white paint - not that I really cared.

Upon stepping into the house that smelt of cinnamon and freshly baked muffins, the sound of barking could be heard and then a small, black and white puppy ran along the carpeted hallway, coming to an abrupt halt at Frank's feet, and its tail wagged wildly when Frank picked it up.

"This," Frank began, holding the small ball of fur in front of my face, "'is Buster Iero. Say "hi" to him."

"Uh, hi?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Good. Now give him a cuddle; he really likes cuddles." Frank carefully put the wriggling puppy in my arms, "Be careful, though, he drools a lot."

The thought of Frank cuddling Buster made me smile goofily.

"Whatcha smiling at, you?" Frank asked, kicking off his Converse and shoving them under the hall table.

"Nothing. Am I not allowed to smile?" I replied, nuzzling my chin against the fur on top of the puppy's head.

Frank scowled like a little boy having a tantrum, his arms outstretched, "Tell me, or I won't let you give him cuddles."

"Fine." I huffed, "I was imagining you cuddling him; it's kind of funny."

"Funny, eh?" Frank laughed, "I like cuddles, too. Make me feel all warm and fuzzly inside. Now, come on, I want you to meet my mom."

I followed Frank down the hall and through a door at the bottom into a brightly lit kitchen.

It was bigbut not as big as ours, it had most kitchen appliancesbut they weren't as high-tech as ours, it had a nice homely feel to it unlike ours.

A woman with short, dark brown hair stood at the sink, washing dishes, and she seemed oblivious to our presence, until Frank yawned loudly, "Hey, mom."

"Hi, sweetie." she replied, a smile present in her voice, and she turned around, beaming widely.

"Hi, Mrs. Iero." I said shyly, and Frank grabbed me by the arm, pulling me further into the kitchen as his mom dried her hands on a flowery, pink towel.

"Don't be shy!" he tutted, "There's no need to be shy."

"Call me Linda. I want to thank you for helping Frankie out." Suddenly, I was engulfed in a bone crushing hug, my face squashed against Frank's mother's shoulder, and then she let me go, "Here, have a muffin."

I picked a muffin off the plate Linda held out to me, Buster still happily tucked in my arms.

"Where's my hug, huh? And you call yourself my mother..." Frank huffed, crossing his arms sulkily.

He finally got rid of his pout when he received a hug, and then he hopped up onto the countertop, chomping away on a muffin.

"You want to know something cute about Frankie, Sasha?" Linda smiled.

"Yeah, sure." I laughed, watching Frank's face turn red.

"When he was small, he'd always cry if he didn't get a hug before he went to bed, before school or after school." she giggled, poking her son in the ribs.

"Mo-om!" Frank yelled, and I started to laugh, "Sasha, come on; before she says something else embarrassing."

He tugged my sleeve and I was practically dragged from the kitchen, up the stairs and into a slightly messy bedroom.

Frank kicked the door shut behind us, and then he hastily began to shove dirty laundry under the bed, and throw a pair of blue pyjama bottoms behind a chair, "Sit wherever you like ... that isn't occupied by mess."

I followed him and sat beside him on his unmade bed, putting Buster down and letting him scamper towards Frank.

Frank smiled up at me, pulling Buster onto his lap.

"Frank?" I asked quietly.

"Yeah?"

"You never did tell me why you were an asshole to me."

He winced.