Author's Note: The only good thing about getting surgery is the fact that you get to miss school. That's why this chapter is going up so early, because I'm not at school and decided I may as well write. This is just a cutesy Bradley, Sydney chapter. The next chapter will have all the guys in there, promise. I hope you guys like this chapter! Lemme know in a comment? Also, my newest story, "Poor Little Rich Girl" goes up today, and I'm really excited about it! So, please, please, please read it! I'll put the link in the external link! Don't forget to comment and vote! Dedicated to writerbug44, just 'cause she's amazingly cool. c:

Chapter 27 - What's The Deal, Pickle?

“Wake up, beautiful girl.” Bradley coos in my ear, as he plops down on my bed.

“Why do you always wake up so early?” I wonder, pushing my face into my pillow.

“Because I’m not a night owl, like some people.” He defends. “Besides, it’s already 9:30.”

“And what possible reason is there to ever wake up at 9:30?”

“Well, there’s scho--“        

"On Spring Bring, I mean.” I correct myself.

“Right, well the reason is because your boyfriend wants to talk to you.”

"What about?” I groan. “I’m tired.”

“About nothing and everything.” Bradley answers. “I told you to go to sleep, but you were being stubborn.”

I open my mouth to reply, but the sound of Avril Lavigne’s newest song, Here’s to Never Growing Up fills the room, stealing my chance. I feel around the large comfy bed, searching for my phone. My fingers wrap around my white case-covered iPhone and I pull it from underneath a pillow, looking down at the caller I.D.

“Who is it?” Bradley curiously asks.

“My dad.” I say, eyebrows raised. My dad next to never calls me. I don’t know why; he just doesn’t.

“You gonna answer?” He wonders.

I nod, accepting the call and put the phone up to my ear. “Daddy?”

“Hi sweetie.” My father says in a chirpy voice.

“Hey,” I reply, confused as to why he’s calling me.

I mean, I know it’s not unusual for a dad to call his daughter, it’s just that my dad doesn’t. Whenever we talk, it’s usually in person, which is when I go up to his house and see him.

“How’re you? Are you having fun in Colorado?”

“I’m good. I am, Colorado’s been really fun so far.”

“Not too fun, I hope.” My dad says in a reprimanding tone.

I blush at his insinuation and shake my head, even though he can’t see me. “Whatever you’re thinking, no.”

“Thatta girl. We don’t need any grandchildren from you until you’re at least thirty.”

“Thirty?” I say, laughing. “That’s a little…far-fetched, don’t you think?”

“Not at all; besides, you’re too young for a boyfriend.”

“Dad, I’m eighteen.” I remind him.

“Exactly, too young.”

I guess we know where my stubbornness comes from. Out of my peripheral vision I see my boyfriend- I don’t think I’ll ever get over how nice that sounds- readjusting his position, lying down next to me and grabbing the remote control, turning the television on. I’m debating on whether or not I should tell my dad that I do have a boyfriend, despite his thinking that I’m ‘too young for a boyfriend’. The boys know now anyway and apparently have known for a while, so what the heck? I may as well tell him.

“Sydney? Are you there sweetie?”

“I’m here.” I confirm. “I just wanted to tell you something.”

“What’s that?”

“I have a boyfriend, actually.”

He doesn’t say anything for a minute but then clears his throat. “Oh?”

"Mhmm.”

“Anyone I know?”

"Actually, yes, you do know him.”

“Well? Who is he?”

"Bradley?” I say, phrasing it like a question just because. Hearing his name, Bradley looks over at me with a questioning expression. I mouth for him to hold on and he nods, going back to watching some kinda college basketball game on my TV.

“Bradley?” He repeats. “Bradley Edwards? Your best friend?”

"That’s the one.” I squeak.

“I can’t say that I’m surprised; anyone with eyes could see how that boy feels about you. Has he been treating you right?”

"Yes, daddy, Bradley has been treating me right.”

“Good, then I think you know what this means.”

“No?”

"I need to meet him, of course.”

"What? You already know him.”

“No, I know him as your best friend, not your boyfriend, therefore we need to have a little meet-up.”

I groan, “Dad, that really won’t be necessary.”

"I think it will be. You know the rules: Dad’s gotta meet the boyfriend.”

“You didn’t meet Jared when he and Arianna started dating.” I defend.

“And look how that turned out; she’s pregnant.” He reminds me, his tone full of amusement.

“Okay, fine.” I say, relenting. He’s way too stubborn to have his mind changed.

“So, when are you guys coming back?”

“I think Sunday,” I tell him.

“Good, we’ll have dinner together Sunday then.”

“Sounds great.” I tell him sarcastically.

“I’ll see you then. Enjoy your last few days in Colorado.”

“I will,” I assure him.

“I love you, sweetie.”

“I love you too, Daddy, bye.” I reply, hanging up the phone and groaning, falling back onto my bed.

“What’s the deal, pickle?” Bradley casually asks.

“My dad wants to meet you.”  

“Your dad wants to meet me?” He echoes. “He’s already met me though.”

"I know, but he claims that he only met you as my friend, not my boyfriend.”

“Well, that’s…weird.”

“We’re a weird family.” I agree.

“That you are, but I’m used to it.”

“Good, because we’re having dinner with him Sunday night once we get back to Michigan.”

“Great,” Bradley says, looking back at the TV. “Then that means you  have to come meet my parents.”

“I already know your parents.” I say, rolling my eyes at him.

“As my friend, not my girlfriend.” Bradley replies, stealing my dad’s words.

"You’re so stupid.”

“It’s only fair,” Bradley defends.

“I guess,” I say, jumping up from my bed.

"Where’re you going?” He calls after me.

“I have to brush my teeth!” I retort, going into the bathroom. Once I brush my teeth and brush my hair, securing it in a messy bun, I go back into my room, an idea having just popped into my brain. “Oh my gosh, Bradley.” I exclaim.

“Hmm?”

"Will you come with me to the mall?”             

“Why?” He wonders.

“Because I wanna get a new tattoo.”

“Can we get food while we’re there?”

“Is food all you ever think about?”

"No,” He defends.

“Really?”

“Really. Food and you, that’s all I think about.” Bradley rebuts.

I smile at his cheesiness and lean down to kiss him. “You are such a cheese ball.”

“You love it.” Bradley reminds me, trying to slip his tongue into my mouth.  

“No, sir, we have to get dressed so we can get my new tattoo.” I say, pulling back.

“Okay, okay, okay.” He retorts, standing up and walking to his room.

And no, he isn’t wearing a shirt. Again. He’s totally doing it on purpose.

-------

“Does this mall even have a tattoo parlor?” I wonder as Bradley and I walk with our fingers interlaced.

“They should,” He says, looking around at the plethora of stores. “What are you gonna get?”

“I dunno.” I admit. “Maybe I’ll get another French phrase or something. Oooh, you should get one!”

“A tattoo?”

I nod, “Yeah, you can totally get one.”

“Two things wrong with that. One: I’m only seventeen. Two: What would I even get?”

“But if you could, would you get one?” I ask, pulling my phone from my pocket with the hand not in his.

"Sure,” Bradley says with a shrug. “What are you doing?”

“Research.” I tell him, going to Wikipedia.

Why teachers always say it’s unreliable, I have no clue. I use Wikipedia all the time for everything and I’ve yet to be given any misinformation. Bradley and I continue walking through the store hand in hand while I search the internet for Tattoo Laws.    

“Ah! You can get a tattoo.”

"Huh?”

“According to Wikipedia, “no minimum age to receive a tattoo or body piercing is established in Colorado's state code or regulations.” I state, reading the sentence.

“Alright then,” Bradley says, grinning. “I’ll get one then.”

“We’re so coupley,” I coo. “Look at us, getting tattoos together and stuff.”

“Right? We’re just so in sync.” He agrees, then gestures his head to a store in front of us. “There it is.”

“Oh, yay!” I shriek, walking in with him. “Do you know what you’re gonna get yet?”

Bradley nods, a smile on his face. “I know exactly what I’m gonna get.”

“What?”

“It’s a secret.” He says, grinning.

“Okay, then, mystery boy.” I reply. “I’m getting two, I think.”

“I think you’re addicted to tattoos.” Bradley tells me, sitting down in a chair.

“I think once you get yours you’ll be too. I just love my ‘c’est la vie’, one.” I reason.

Two men who I guess work at this place, which is apparently called Colorado Ink, approach us. One leads me to the back of the store, saying that’s where his station is, while Bradley stays at the front.

“So what would you like cutie and where?” He wonders, pulling on a pair of latex gloves.

-------

“That hurt way worse than the first time did.” I whine as Bradley and I pay and leave the parlor.

“What’d you get?” I hold up my right wrist, showing him the plastic. "Imagine." 

I nod, “Do you like it?”

“It’s cute,” Bradley tells me with a nod. “It suits you.”

“What’d you get?” I ask him as we step onto the elevator, heading down to the food court.

“You really wanna know?”

“Mhmm.”

Bradley drops my hand and unzips his jacket, rolling up the sleeve on his grey t-shirt. “Look it.” He says cheerfully. I step in front of him, looking at his muscly bicep. The plastic is covering it, of course, but I can clearly read the black calligraphy-printed tattoo underneath.

"You got my name tattooed on you?” I ask in disbelief with a gasp.

He nods as if that’s no big deal or something. “Yeah, you like it?”

“I love it,” I tell him truthfully. “If we ever break up though, you’re gonna hate yourself.”

"Then,” He says, pulling his jacket back on. “I guess we can never break up.” He reasons, kissing my head.

“That sounds really great to me.” I reply as the elevator dings and the doors slide open.

“Didn’t you get two?” Bradley asks as we stand in the line for pizza.

“I did.” I say with a mischievous smile.

“So where’s the other? I wanna see it.”

“I can’t show you here.” I retort suggestively.

“How come?”

“Because it’s not in a place that I can just expose.”

“Oooh, so where is it?” I look down at myself, reaching to the waistband of my jeans. I hook my finger into the top of my pink ‘Friday’ panties that Bradley got me for my birthday. Hey, underwear is underwear, I wasn’t just not gonna wear them.

“Right here.” I tell him teasingly, gesturing to my hip bone.

Bradley licks his lips and says, “Are you serious right now?”

I nod, “I’m so serious. You can see it later. Maybe.”

Bradley averts his eyes from my hip as I unhook my finger and we move forward in line. “Jesus Christ, you’re killing me, Sydney.”

"Sorry,” I chirp, as we get a medium pizza, two drinks, cookies and an ice cream cone.

And no, the cookie and ice cream are not for him. What can I say? I’ve always had a huge appetite. Fast metabolism, you kinda gotta love it. Bradley and I sit down together at a booth in the reasonably full food court.

“So, I’ve been thinking,” Bradley tells me.

“About?”

“Us.”

“What’s up?” I wonder, stuffing a cookie into my mouth.

“I wanna take you out. Once we get back home to Michigan, that is.”

“Like on a date?” I ask with a goofy grin.

He chuckles, “Like a date, yeah.”

“Okay,” I agree. “Where are we going?”

“You don’t seriously think I’m gonna tell you?”

I sigh, “Why should I? You never tell me anything?”

“Because it takes away the element of surprise.” Bradley reasons.

"I don’t like the element of surprise.”

“Well, that’s just too bad. Because I’m chock full of them.”

“You really are,” I agree, nodding. “I can’t believe you got a tattoo of my name on your arm.”

“Does it prove to you how serious I am about this?”

I nod, scooting around the booth and sitting beside him. “It does a lot more than that.”

“Do you always wear this?” Bradley asks, twirling the necklace he got me for my birthday in his fingers.

“I’ve never taken it off.” I tell him truthfully. “Okay, I have a serious question for you right now.”

"Ask away.” He says, slyly taking one of my cookies.

“Stop stealing my cookies you big jerk!” I whine.

“Oh, that sounds really non-pervy. Nice job, Syd.” He says sarcastically, with a laugh.

I blush at that and say, “What I was gonna ask you is if you really think we’ll be together forever?"

“Because of the tattoo?” When I nod, Bradley says, “Yeah, I mean, at least I hope so. I’m no physic or anything, but it sure would be really nice.”

“I just wanted to make sure, because I’m really falling for you.” I admit.

“Well, I fell a long time ago.”

“So,” I say. “If you liked me all these years, how come you dated other girls?”

“I didn’t.” Bradley defends. “You’re the first girlfriend I’ve had since...like...freshman year.”

“But what about Tessa? Brianna? Raquel? Selby? Mindy? Hope? Abigail? Courtney? Meredith?” I ask, naming all the girls I can off the top of my head remember him being with.

"I never dated any of those girls. Well, except Mindy, and that was in freshman year.”

“So, you just hooked up with them all?”

"No, I only hooked up with Tessa, Courtney and Meredith. They were all just…deflectors.”

“Deflectors?” I repeat.

“Yeah, I didn’t really like any of them. I just was trying to get my mind off of you.”

"Why am I so oblivious?”

“It’s a part of what makes you so adorable.” Bradley explains, taking another of my chocolate chip cookies.

I rip the plastic off of my spoon, scoop up a bit of my ice cream and put it on my boyfriend’s nose. “Stop it!”

“Real mature,” He replies, laughing. “I’m gonna get you back for that.” He promises, wiping the ice cream.

“You can try, but you won’t.” I say menacingly.

“Don’t underestimate my abilities.”

-------

“Bradley!” I shout. “Stop it!” I scream as tears of laughter roll down the sides of my face.

“Nope, I told you I’d get you back.” He replies, as he continues mercilessly tickling my sides.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry! You got me back! Please.” I whine, thrashing around on the bed underneath him.

He’s got me pinned down on the bed, sitting on top of me, tickling me like there’s no tomorrow. Have you ever laughed so hard that you feel you’re gonna die? That’s how I feel right now. I’m almost to that point of laughing when you can’t even make a sound and you just sit there with your mouth agape, looking like a retarded seal.

“What’s the magic word?” Bradley demands in a fake sweet voice.

“Abracadabra?” I ask helplessly, out of breath.

“Sorry, love, that’s not correct.” He says in a horrible impression of a British accent, still tickling me.

“Your British accent sucks.” I tell him, through my plethora of giggles.

Bradley scoffs, “Insults will get you nowhere. Now, what’s the magic word, Sydney?”

"Tangerine?”

“Tangerine?” He repeats, laughing. “Why would that be it?”     

“You like tangerines.” I reason.

“You don’t even know me.” Bradley replies, tickling me even faster. “I like clementines, not tangerines.”

“Oh, potato, puh-ta-toe.”

“I’m not stopping until you say the magic word.”

“I don’t know the magic word!” I whine.

“Then I guess we’re in for a long night.” Bradley teases, leaning down and kissing me lightly.

I rack my brain, trying to think of the stupid word when it hits me. “Kerfuffle!”

Bradley collapses into a fit of laughter, falling off me. “Oh, God, that word. It kills me.”

See, a few years ago, Bradley, the guys and I all went to England. London, specifically. Apparently ‘kerfuffle’, is a word they use there in England that means fuss or something like that. Anyway, ever since Bradley first heard it, he’s declared it his favorite word.

Yes, I’m aware I have an extremely weird boyfriend. He makes up for it in sexiness though. And sweetness, considering the fact that I can see the tattoo of my name on his bicep now that he’s got his jacket off.

“You’re such an idiot.” I tell him, regaining my breath, and turning on my side, looking at him.

“I love you, Sydney,” He says, still laughing. From the way he says it, I can tell he doesn’t mean a friend love. Like, the way I tell him I love him or the way I tell the boys that I love them. No, he definitely doesn’t mean it like that. My eyes widen and after a second do his. “Shit, I didn’t mean that.”

“You didn’t mean it?” I echo.

“No, no I mean, I did mean it, I just didn’t mean it to say it like that.” Bradley corrects.

I don’t really know how to reply. I mean, I love Bradley, as a friend, I mean, but I just started dating him. Of course I don’t already love him. And I’m not gonna tell him I love him like that and not mean it. That’s just wrong.

“I don’t expect you to say it back.” Bradley assures me. “You just figured out you even like me. I’ve known I’ve loved you for three years now. I didn’t say it expecting to hear it back. I said it because it’s true. I do love you Sydney. Don’t feel like you have to say it back  now. Take your time. Say it when you really, really mean it.”

I nod, “Well, if it means anything, I do really, really like you a lot.” I assure him, pressing my lips to his.