Secondhand Girlfriend

.33

{read authors note, a little important.}

"Kieran," I heard Andre call my name.

Instantaneously every hair on the back of my neck stood up, he never used my full name unless something was wrong. When I turned around to face him, all I saw was a fist coming toward my face, that I didn't have time to react to before it connected with my jaw. Stumbling backward, I held my cheek as stared into his brown eyes in shock.

"I don't understand," I said, pain shooting through my face with each syllable.

"Turn off your damn walkie-talkie next time you decide to bang my sister."

His words were malicious, but he smiled right after as he handed me the ice pack in his hand. I took it from him, pressing it to my jaw as I sat down on the bench of the locker room. My eyebrows furrowed together in thought as I tried to remember ever turning it on, but then it came to me as I remembered something clattering to the floor. When Porcelain pushed into the chair, it must have fallen out of my pocket and turned on when it hit the ground.

"I'm sorry, bro, it will never happen again," I apologised, hanging my head to hide the heat on my face.

"Do you know how disgusting it is to hear my sister moaning my best friend's name," he chuckled, leaning against the lockers behind him. "I wanted to stick a spear through one ear and hope it penetrated the other."

Groaning obnoxiously, I laid back on the bench and stared up at the ceiling until white dots clouded my vision. Homeboy heavy handed as hell, man. Especially since I wasn't expecting to get punched in the face, it made the hit five times worse. Andre laughed at my behaviour, then grabbed my hand to help pull me to my feet. Clapping me on the back, he told me to hurry up and put my shoes on. When I asked him why, he smiled devishly and whispered dodgeball as he sauntered away.

Shaking my head, I blink away the flashback as I turn away from the mirror. Although he punched me three days ago, the bruise on my cheek is still noticeable but not as bad as the first night. With a deep sigh, I lean against the sink of my bathroom and run my hands over my face. This day came way too fucking quickly;  I feel like yesterday was still the first day of school.

Turning to face the mirror again, I cut on the sink and splash the water in my face. It is serves the purpose of waking me up, but this day is already wake up call enough. A knock on the door halts my actions, and I turn the faucet of as I try my face with a towel. Opening the door, I smile as I see my mother on the other side of it.

"Mommy," I cheer, wrapping my arms around her in a hug.

"Hi, baby boy," she laughs as she hugs me back.

When we pull apart, she steps aside to let me out of the bathroom, then follows me to the living room. I stop in my tracks when I see Frank standing in my living room, to see him in my apartment. Although I want to be angry about it, I'm not. For the second time, he is becoming a new man and I give him small credit for trying, again. He does a small turn around the room, and when his eyes catch my a smile forms on his face. I don't return it.

"Hey son," he exclaims, enthusiasm clear in his voice.

Fuck off.

"Frank," I reply, giving a curt nod in acknowledgment.

Nodding his own, he clears his throat as he sticks his hands into the pockets of his dress pants. He hangs his, beginning to toe his shoe into the carpet like a child in trouble. When he looks up again, a smile smaller than the last is on his face.

"C-congratualtions," he trips of the words, seeming as if it is stuck in his throat, and continues on. "I'm, uh..."

Frank cuts himself off as he searches for the right word, but the sentence is never finished as he begins to shake his head furiously. Sighing, I run my hands though my hair as I stare the man.