Lovefool

That I Ought to Stick to Another Man

Hey, everyone!!! Here is the next instalment. So sorry it took so long to get back, but life got in the way!

This chapter is dedicated to my two WP Sisters: Solesister71 and 

MyraWards

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Hey LoveFool,

My boyfriend's friends are so gross and perverted. They are nasty and say sick shit all of the time. When my boyfriend is around them he acts like that to. But when he is with me he is super sweet. How do I deal with his sick F#$kboy friends? 

Grossed out girlfriend

Dear Grossed out,

One thing I have learned, is to never come between a guy and his friends--so I wouldn't even try. Yes, they are probably silly and immature, but most teenage boys are. It's just a fact of life. Now if it were me, I'd probably say something to my boyfriend about the way they are acting and maybe seeing about limiting the amount of time that you, personally, have to spend with them. 

But no matter what, you're in a relationship with him, not his friends!

Remember, don't be a fool in love, that's my job,

Lovefool

By the time I made it home from work, there was a red Mustang convertible parked right outside my house. It looked new, but I had no idea how new; considering I was a girl and my knowledge base of cars was zilch. Although, if I had to guess, it was probably this year's model.

I whipped the car onto the driveway. The vehicle hadn't even come to a complete stop when three knocks rapped against the window.

My heart leaped into my throat, and my first inclination was to hit the lock button, or worse and draw attention by sounding the alarm. Instead, I reached for my phone and dialed 9-1-1.

Stay calm, Harriet. Just breathe. 

With it being the middle of November, it was dark already, save for the streetlights at the curb and there was no way of knowing this stranger's identity. Apparently, Mom forgot to turn the porch light on again or was still at work. Probably the latter.

The person tapped the glass again. "Hello, Harry."

Ugh. Him. The phone hadn't even connected, and I hit the red button to end the call.

"What the heck, Tanner." I gaped at him while opening the driver's side door. "What're you doing here?" 

I had lied to Tanner, telling him that I didn't get off until eight. That was supposed to buy me a few moments of peace before having to deal with the likes of him.

"Well." He leaned against the hood of my VW Bug and waited while I grabbed my book bag and purse from the front seat. "I called the library, and talked to a very nice woman by the name of Brenda."

My cheeks flushed. "Um. Did you?" I groaned under my breath. Brenda. One of those nosey, middle-aged hags I worked with that loved nothing than to get in everyone else's business. Come tomorrow at work, I bet she'd have a few things to say on the matter. 

Lucky me.

"Oh, yeah." Tanner forced a faint chuckle. "She told me that you got off work at seven. Not eight. Imagine that."

"Huh." I shrugged and didn't look at him while hurrying toward the back of the house. Dead leaves littered the pathway, contributing to the swooshing and crunching of our footfalls that cut through the crisp autumn silence. Finally, after we reached the door, the motion lights blinded us both.