FicWad

Chapter Eight: Too Much Of You Is Never Enough.


“Since when were you in a band?” I asked myself out loud. I turned the television off and looked at my phone. Still no reply form Frank. “Text me back you arsehole!” I said to the phone. As I did, it starting ringing. ‘Bert’ showed up on the phone screen. I sighed and answered.
“Hello?”
“Hey, babes.” he said.
“Hey,” I replied, I smiled at the nickname. I don’t know why. After all, it was Bert.
“How’re you?” he asked, casually.
“I’m just great thanks. You?” I didn’t mean to coat that in sarcasm. It just kinda came out that way.
“Ohh, that was even more sarcastic than usual!”
“Sorry.”
“So, what’s up?”
“It doesn’t matter…it‘s nothing really,”
“It does matter. Tell me, you know I’ll just find out anyway!”
“True.”
“So, tell me? Or shall I come round?” he suggested.
“You can come round, if you want?”
“Of course I want! I just offered, right?”
“Good point.” I said, mentally kicking myself.
“’kay I’ll be over in about 5 seconds.”
“5 seconds?!”
“Yeah, come to the door. It looks like it’s going to start raining soon.”
“How were you at my house so quickly?”
“Er, I started walking when I called you.”
“You sneaky bastard.” I laughed.
“I try, now open the door!”
I hung up and walked to the door. I saw Bert looking through the letter box, laughing. I went to open the door when I heard Bert say,
“No, wait! Don’t move!”
“Why?!” I asked. “Is there something on me!?”
“Nope. No. I just have a great view of your crotch here.”
“Bert!”
“Sorry,” he said as I opened the door. “Wow! You look, kissable, fuckable, lickable and any word you can add ‘able’ to.” he said, matter-of-factly.
“I look like crap to be honest.”
“No. No you don’t. Now, tell me what’s wrong…” he said, taking my hand and leading me upstairs to my room.
“Still know you’re way around then?” I asked, sitting on the bed.
“Uh huh. But still trying to change the subject! What’s wrong?” he smiled kindly and sat next to me.
“It’s Frank. Uh, it’s nothing really. Nothing’s happened.”
“Obviously something has happened… tell Auntie Bert.”
“Auntie Bert?!”
“Or Uncle, which ever.”
“Haha. Well, uncle Bert. I was texting Frank about today, and when we’re going to meet up tomorrow, then he just said… I took my phone out and showed Bert the text.
“Mmm. He, ‘think’s he MIGHT be busy’?! that hardly makes sense! He’s either busy, or he’s not. I’m going to call him.” said Bert getting out his phone and started typing in Frank’s number.
“Bert! No! Don’t call him! I don’t want him to think I told you to!!”
“He won’t think you told me to. He’s not that clever.”
“But! Do-” Bert put his index finger over my lips.
“Shh. It’s ringing.” he whispered.
“Hello?” answered Frank. Bert put it on speaker.
“Hey, Frank! It’s Bert. You busy tonight, or tomorrow?”
“What’s going on tonight and tomorrow?”
“Tonight there’s a party at Zacky’s and tomorrow, it’s just tomorrow, want to hang out?”
“With you? I might be busy, anyway.”
“Might be busy? Are you busy or not?”
“I don’t know yet!”
“What is there to not know, what do you have planned?”
“Well, I might be going out with Sean tomorrow.”
“Sean?” Bert asked, looking at me. I hugged the pillow next to me and waited for Frank’s answer.
“Sean Smith. You must know him, you know everyone.”
“Oh! Him. Yeah, I know him… why are you meeting him tomorrow?”
“Does it really matter?”
“Yes.”
“You won’t tell, uh. Never mind. Sean’s my boyfriend.”
“Your boyfriend?! What about Gerard?!” Bert shouted down the phone. I buried my head in the pillow and tried to hold back the tears that were stinging my eyes. How could I be this upset. I hardly know him. Bert put his arm around my waist and pulled me closer, stroking my back.
“Gerard? Er, we’re just friends. But um, could you not tell him about Sean?”
“Why not?! Think it might hurt him?!”
“Well yeah. I do like Gerard. I just, uh. He’s a bit, y’know.”
“No! I don’t know! What is he?!” Bert shouted, visibly angry.
“He’s kind of, boring. Y’know, and frigid er. And all around turn off.”
“What?!” Bert shouted. I couldn’t take this anymore. I didn’t want to listen. I got up and ran to the door, throwing it open then slamming it shut, loudly.
“What was that?” Frank asked.
“A door slamming.” Bert stated.
“Yeah, but who slammed it?”
“Gerard.”