More Than One [18+]

15.

"So... boyfriend?"

He stops eating from his lunchbox and stiffens. "Scarlett, I'm not  talking about this," he snaps. I cringe.

"But... why? I'm confused, Ethan-""Stop."

I frown and pout. "Ethan," I whine.

His jaw clenches. "Look. I'm not discussing this right now. Everyone needs to be there, okay? So, you can choose. Or you skip classes for today and go home with me, or you stay at school and wait until Jordan picks you up."

So now it's Jordan?

I can't wait so long for answers. And the classes I have now are just PE and sexual education. "I can skip," I smile. His eyes widen. "Shit," he mumbles.

He turns to me. "You can't skip class. You never skip class," he says. I giggle. "For everything there's a first time."

Sighing, he gets up. "Fine. You win, Scarlett. Let's go. You can call them in the car, they'll be happy to hear you."

I squeal. "Yey!" We get in the car. I grab my phone from my backpack and video call them.

Jordan picks up first. Then, the others join pretty quickly. They're all confused. I set the camera in an angle where they can see Ethan too.

"You need to come home," I sat to them. "What? What happened?" Owen almost yells.

I giggle. "Nothing yet. Ethan just dropped a bomb."

They frown. Ethan rolls his eyes,"Thanks again, Scarlett."

I giggle again. "He said he was my boyfriend to Mike, and then he got all weird en said something about everyone? What did you say again?"

I turn to Ethan. He looks at me for a moment, then in the phone. "Home. Now."

They hang up. Well, everyone except Owen. He's running to his car, but he's still calling. "Owen, you're still on the phone."

He smiles at me. "I know. I'd like to hear your voice when I drive. It calms me."

Okay, fair enough. 

"So we're going home?3 I ask Ethan. He nods, but doesn't look at me. I shrug. I guess I'll talk with Owen then.

"So, Owen?" He hums. All I see on the screen is black, so I guess he put the phone somewhere to avoid accidents. "What's your favorite color?"

There's silence on the other line. "My favorite color? Why are you asking this? You're not very creative, Scarlett, he teases. I roll my eyes. "Just trying to keep the conversation going," I shrug.

He chuckles. "Okay, good. My favorite color is black." I frown. Black? "Black isn't a color," I say. He picks up the phone and glares at me. "If it's not, why is there paint from it, then?"