Lovefool

A Man That Surely Deserves Me

Hey Lovefool,

I have a big problem. My parents hate my boyfriend. And when I say hate, I mean they H-A-T-E everything about him. His tattoos. That he smokes. They think he's not good enough for me. But he's so much more than that, and he really is sweet and adorable and wouldn't do anything to ever hurt me.How do I convince them that he truly is a good guy so that they'll quit talking down about him all the time?

~Hopeless

Dear Hopeless,

Don't give up the faith so fast. Maybe your parents just need some time to digest that they're daughter is in love? Maybe it might take him spending time with your family for them to see all the great qualities about him that you do?If it were me, I'd start there, and who knows what might happen. But at least it's worth a shot.

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

Lovefool

I cleared my throat and broke the spell. "We better get started on the project." I sat on the nearest chair and pulled out the worksheet from a folder in my backpack.

Tanner followed suit but left me in charge of writing our answers down. Apparently, my handwriting was more legible than his. Whatever. He was just lazy, and we both knew it, even though I wasn't in the mood to say anything about it.

The first twenty questions due on Friday were of the general Getting to Know You sort.

I held the paper up and started at the top. "Okay, number one. What is your partner's full name?" I didn't even wait for a response and wrote the answers.

Harriet Julia Byrne

Charles Tanner Wilson

"Well, what's yours?" Tanner asked. "Some stupid old lady sounding middle name to match your first?"

"Ha, ha, ha. Real funny." I rolled my eyes. "It's Julia."

"Harriet Julia." A mischievous smile. "Harriet Julia. Harriet Julia. Harry J. It works."

I gritted my teeth. The name Harry was bad enough, and now he added my middle initial to it? Great.

"Number two. What is your partner's birthdate?"

"Whoa, wait a minute." Tanner leaned across the table, grabbing the notebook. "How do you know my real name?"

"Oh, you mean Charles?" I said with a shrug. "Common knowledge. I meant to ask you about that. Why don't you go by Charles or Charlie or Chuck?" My eyebrows waggled over the brim of my glasses to exude a bit of playfulness. "Chuck is cute."

What was the heck wrong with me? Was I attempting to flirt with Tanner Wilson? Attempting and failing miserably, but still trying nonetheless.

Tanner passed the notebook back to me. "It's a long story." His voice went hard, as did his expression.

I dropped the pink clicky pen and laced my fingers. "I've got time." There was a story here, and the job of every good reporter was to delve deep and get to the bottom of every story. Even if the only reason I wanted this info was for personal, stalker-ish purposes. But he didn't have to know about that.

"I don't want to talk about it." His added scowl was to ensure I didn't ask any more questions. Poor Tanner. Little did he know.

I made a mental note to find out exactly why. "Do you even like your name? Tanner is tan. A color. An awful beige-ish brown that's used for interiors of cars and carpeting and then there's the whole ugly wall color." I waved at the tan painted wood panels in the kitchen.