I can't. This boy is my addiction, and if I kiss him, there is no going back. Do I want to kiss him? Yes. Can I? No. Although that itself wouldn't directly be breaking my promise, I wouldn't be able to stop myself once I started.
Highest ranking #8...
"Hey look, it's the guy with the resting bitch face!" a boy with longer brown hair points at Michael, making Michael do a dramatic eye close and sit down on the couch.
"I am aware of it Miles, you don't have to rub it in," Michael says sitting down on the couch and pulling out his phone. In front of me, including Devin and Michael, are 18 boys who all look to be between 25 and 17. A boy with curly, sandy blonde hair, blue eyes, and a face like a Greek god's eyes widen when he sees me.
"Are you THE Brynn Williams?" he asks, looking like he's fangirling. I send him a smile and nod.
"Yes, and you are?" I smile.
"Brady Tutton. I'm 15 years old, and I'm from Sherwood, Wisconsin," he says eagerly, making some of the other boys laugh. Wait, this boy is 15? He looks at least 17.
"Hi Brady. Do you know where my dad is?" I ask, trying to be polite as possible while wanting to eagerly know where my dad is.
"He's in there," one really tall (not Devin tall but tall) boy says, throwing a wink in at the end. I can see Michael roll his eyes from the corner of my eye.
"Stay in your lane Jay. She's like seven years older than you," Michael responds, looking up from his screen. A heavy blush covers my face, which I can tell some of the guys notice.
"H-he can't be that young," I stutter. Great, I was totally confident talking to Brady, but I flop at talking to Michael. What's wrong with me?
"Actually, he's fourteen," a guy with fluffy hair and a baby mustache announces, making my eyes widen. At this rate, all of these boys are either going to be 14, 15, or 16, not that I mind because I wouldn't want to date any of them. I've got to keep my promise to my mom.
*flashback*
"Mommy?" I say, trying to get her to respond. As a seven year old, I want to spend as much time with her as I can. Dad's always gone, so I love mommy even more.
"Yes sweetie?" my mom answers, a big smile on her face. She told me that I'm her favorite, but that I can't tell Brayden.
"Do you love daddy?" I ask her. I heard him telling someone, "I love you," on the phone, so I wanted to here mommy say it about him.
"Of course sweetheart, but my parents didn't," she laughs, making me scrunch up my eyebrows.
"What?" I ask, being confused.
"They didn't like him, but I did and that's what matters," she tells me, planting a kiss on my head.
"Will you like my boyfriend?" I ask her, and she laughs.
"Probably, but I'm going to have to make sure he's a keeper," she laughs, tickling me. I start giggling, rolling on my side.
*flashback over*
(A/N that's not the full reason she doesn't want to have a relationship, just a little bit)
"Lies, he's at least 18," I defend. There is NO WAY this guy is 14. His voice is waaaaay too deep for that.
"I'm fourteen, but she isn't 21 Michael," he says, emphasizing the words 21 and Michael.
"Hence the word like. It makes it so it doesn't have to be accurate," he answers, sticking his tongue out.
"Wait, so how old are you guys?" I ask to the couple of boys who are paying attention to the conversation. Most of the other boys are off talking to each other.
"I'm Jay Gilbert, but I go by JHype. I'm 14 years old," he states, passing an invisible button to Brady.
"I'm Brady Tutton, and I've already said this," Brady responds, passing it to a guy with a heartwarming smile.
"Hi, my name is Chance Perez, and I'm 19," he responds, passing it to Devin. Wow, I guess they all aren't 14, 15, or 16.
"I'm Devin Hayes, and I'm 18," he announces, pretending to shoot the button to a boy with killer cheek bones.
"My name is Drew Ramos, and I'm 19," he hands the invisible button to a guy with dark, styled hair.
"I'm Mikey Jimenez, age 17," he greets, handing the invisible button to Michael. My foot starts tapping on the ground nervously, and I don't know why.
"I'm Michael Conor...," he starts before getting cut off.
"Say your real name," Brady says, but Michael ignores it.
"And I'm 18," he finishes, and I feel myself let out a deep breath. My eyes meet my dad's at the kitchen table, and I know this is my chance (no pun intended.)
"Ive gotta go real quick," I excuse myself. I walk proudly through the boys, not caring if I'm wearing my pajamas. I walk over to my dad and slam my hands down at the table.
"What is this?" I ask frantically, gesturing to the 18 boys sitting in our living room. My dad just stands there with a smirk on his face and his arms crossed.
"You said that America wouldn't like a band if they didn't have pretty faces, so I'm proving you wrong," he tells me, taking a long sip of his beer. I raise an eyebrow in disbelief.
"I'm sorry to break it to you, but those guys are super attractive to most people. How will that prove your point?" I ask with sass, placing a hand on my hip. I have to admit, these boys are attractive to most girls, which doesn't make sense considering what my dad is doing. Come on, you know you find at least one of them attractive. The little voice in my head needs to shut up.
"Yes it does. You'll just have to wait and see," he smirks, walking into the room with all of the boys.
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