He Said. (Asa Butterfield)

11- Dinner

Mine.

Mine.

Mine.

Asa is mine, I am his, and honestly I wouldn't want it to be any different.

But... he leaves in two days to begin filming X Plus Y. I'm not sure how long yet, I don't have the guts to ask. "Hey, mumma." I say as I enter the kitchen where she's cooking dinner.

"Hey, darling. Did you go all British on me?"

"Well," I say in my horrible accent. "We are in London, aren't we?"

"I suppose we are," she mimicks my accent.

"Hey, can I go to Asa's for dinner?" I ask shyly.

"Aww, I can't believe you got a boyfriend! My little baby is all grown up," she hugs me.

"Mom!" I push her off. "I have to go get ready. Plus, I've had other boyfriends."

Okay, so Ms. Farr hates me, I need to dress to impress.

I pick out a pair of white skinny jeans and a black tank top with thick straps that flares out a bit at the waist. I lay the outfit on my bed and take a shower.

My hair falls in its natural waves but is pushed back by a silver headband. I check the time. 6:45. I have to be there at 7:00. I slip on my black ballet flats.

Makeup!

I almost forgot.

I apply a bit of it and switch my phone case to a simple white one and make my way downstairs.

My mom is cooking dinner for herself, I feel horrible for leaving her alone.

I go and hug her tightly. "I love you mama," I kiss her cheek.

"Love ya too, go have fun now!"

And I do.

~~~

Ms. Farr made fish for dinner, which I was allergic to. It was horrible, my throat swelled and I couldn't breathe. It only happened once when I was 12, but I'd never forget that moment.

"Ace," Ms. Farr attempts a whisper. "Are you dating an anorexic girl?"

"No, mum," he sighs. "Trust me."

"She's not eating her fish."

I'M ALLERGIC! SORRY!

"She's has allergies, mum."

"Oh, dear," she says emotionless.

"Francine-"

"It's Francesca, Ms. Farr."

"Francesca, you shouldn't have worn white pants. You could leak!" I blush, knowing what she means.

I was two weeks away!

"Sorry, Ms. Farr."

"So much black and white, too. Add some color! Those two colors are horrendously boring."

"Sorry, Ms. Farr."

"Mum," Asa scolds. "She isn't Payton. You don't have to act like this."

So yep, that's pretty much how my night went.

Fuck. My. Life.

By the time dinner was over, it was only 8:00.

"Can she stay a while, mum?"

Ms. Farr sighs. "I suppose."

"It-it's okay. I'll go home," I say, forcing a smile.

"Francesca-," Asa pleads. "It's fine, really--"

"No, It's okay, Ace." I insist. He sighs, knowing he wont win. "Thank you for the dinner," I tell Ms. Farr; I fed it to the cat under the table actually.

"Let me walk you out."

Asa leads me to the front door. "I'm so so so so so sorry Francesca. I don't know why she's acting like this."

"You told her I'm not Payton, what does that mean?" That's what I want to say, but my mouth doesn't listen and comes out with this: "It's okay, trust me."

"No, Francesca. It's not--"

"Asa," I laugh. "It's fine."

It's not fine.

"No, but okay."

I hug him and we bid our goodbyes before I head across the street.

Even though it was only nine, I changed into sweatpants and a tee shirt and took off my makeup then snuggle into bed.

I don't ever want to face Ms. Farr again.

---

A/N: This is short whatever.

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