(GIA'S POV)
I force a smile, actually feeling somewhat relieved.
Maybe this isn't as bad as I thought it'd be.
"Oh, we have to show you this amazing clip of her singing!" Zach brings up excitedly.
I take it back.
My dad looks at him and smiles, "please do."
Zach pulls out his phone, and I hear the video playing.
"Aren't you proud dad?" I ask with a small smile as I walk up to his desk, and Ava places the bag down.
"I mean..." he begins, a small frown forming.
"You mean what exactly?" I ask, putting on an over exaggerated grin.
"Oh look, dinner! Thank you, sweet pea." My dad quickly says with a grin as well.
He begins to take out the burritos, somehow knowing which one is his.
"Yeah, thank you sweet pea." Zach mimics, looking at me with an arched eyebrow.
Zach. You. Are-
"Such a sweet pea." Ava adds on, interrupting my thoughts.
I look at her and give her a stare.
"Very much, sweet pea." Jonah agrees, giving a thumbs up.
Why Don't We boys, PLEASE GIVE ME A BREAK.
"Peas shouldn't be sweet, just saying." I frown.
"And dad's burrito should have more guac."
I sigh and grab my burrito, taking an open seat.
Right by Mr.Herron.
Soon enough, Ava, Jack, and my dad are deep into some conversation.
I take out my phone and set it on the table in front of me.
Big mistake.
I realize this devastating fact when Zach steals my phone from right in front of me.
"Now, being left on delivered for more than five minutes is a crime." Zach states, glancing at me seriously.
"Never would I be in jail then." I lie with a shrug, reaching for my phone.
"You replied to Jack Johnson, but not me?" Zach gasps.
"Woah." Corbyn gasps as well.
Whoops.
Funny, Jack and I met through Ava.
Anyways, I give a crooked smile.
"Wait, that's not even my user." Zach realizes as he taps on my phone.
"Sounds like an affair situation if you ask me." Daniel says then takes a bite from his burrito.
"It's a bigger deal than an affair, actually." I reply matter-of-factly.
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Traffic » Zach Herron
Fanfiction"--I want you to share that air with m-- AH!" A sudden car honk cuts off my encore, along with my poor excuse of what I like to call, dancing. I hear boys laughing as I press my foot lightly against the gas pedal, only moving a mere foot due to th...