The Kings IV II

11

Fran

"Alright, foot on the brake," Hero said, making me nod.

I nodded and placed my foot on the brake, putting the car in reverse, but not without a little bit of struggle.

"Alright, cut the wheel," he said, turning around as I backed out of the driveway, "drive."

I put the car in drive and drove down the lengthy driveway, chewing on my bottom lip.

"Wanna know my secret?" He asked, looking over at me.

"Sure," I said, looking over at him.

"Well, first of all, keeping your eyes on the road," he said, "but just don't even think about it. Driving really isn't that deep."

"I'm operating very heavy machinery, it's deep."

"You're operating a car. Not a fucking forklift."

"Aren't you supposed to be twenty-one?" I asked, "t-to be in the passenger seat with me with my p-"

"Shh," he said, placing his finger over his lips, "plus, no one's going to know unless you're doing something to get us stopped. Also, I could pass for twenty-one. You're fine."

I let out a sigh. "Mom's going to kill us. I just know it."

"What Mom doesn't know won't kill her."

"Hero, you have a very questionable way of going about life," I said, nodding.

He chuckled, nodding towards the road. "Slow down. You've got a heavy foot, too."

"Are you and Amelia together?" I softly asked, keeping my eyes on the road.

"No," he answered, very confidently.

"Okay, well-"

"Amelia and I have a relationship that soon enough, you'll be old enough to understand."

I let out an angry sigh, knitting my brows together. "I'm not clueless, Hero."

"Never said you were."

"Well, then, stop treating me like I am. I hate it when you treat me that way."

He looked over at me, sighing. He rested his chin in his palm. "Turn around before Dad has a complex."

I pulled into an empty parking lot, turning around to head back home. We sat in silence for most of the ride.

"I'm going on that date with Dylan," I said.

I could feel his eyes on me. "No, you're not."

"Yes, I am."

I shot him a quick glance, only to find him nothing short of steaming.

"Why do you even want to go out with Dylan?" He asked, "he has one goal, Fran."

"And what goal is that, the same one you have?"

"Fran," he chuckled out, shaking his head as we pulled into the driveway, "okay, I have a problem with that goal when you're one of the parties involved."

"That is neither here nor there," I scoffed, putting the car in park.

He opened his door, stepping out of the car. I did the same and looked at him, not even noticing Dad standing on the steps outside.

"Where the hell were you two?" He asked, his eyebrows knitted together.

"Fran, I swear to God, if he comes to this house, I'll beat his fucking ass."