Fairy tales thrive on black and white. In life, there's only grey – no bad guys, no good guys. You could be the Cheshire cat, Snow White, a troll or a pastry-making witch whose diet consists only of little kids, but you'll always be you.
—Arnold Arre, After Eden.

Epic Summer To Do List B4 I Turn Eighteen:
#5: Take on the almighty couples food challenge at Pedro's Pizzeria all alone- and win

           "What the fuck do you mean by you're grounding me?" I snap at Father's stiff, retreating back as he makes his way into the dining room. He doesn't even bother to turn around in order to glare at me due to my choice of words. I quickly march after him. "You can't be serious!"

           "As a matter of fact, I am," he says as finally turns to face me and settles into his seat at the far end of the dining table. The staff quickly snap into action by wheeling in trays full of food and I frown before sitting on the seat farthest from him.

           "Do you think I'm blind, Scarlett?" He continues to say as he crosses his arms over his torso, leaning back into his seat. "I can see the grotesque bandage on your neck. I know you've gotten yourself a tattoo without my consent."

           I'm tempted to say it's a healing vampire bite but I throw the idea away before it can really become a given action. The way he's glaring at me isn't encouraging.

          "And the piercings too," he continues with his mini rant like he never paused in the first place. "What kind of piercings are these? You weren't satisfied with the ones on your earlobes?"

           I shrug. "It's a trend. Industrial piercings are basically in vogue now. You should know this, Father."

          He shakes his head at me just as a plate full of waffles is placed right in front of him. "Try to be sassy all you want, Scarlett, but my decision is final. You're grounded."

           "No I'm not grounded Father," I huff stubbornly just as a bowl of fruit salad is placed right in front of me. I frown down at the bowl before looking up at the maid with who placed the bowl in front of me. "I said I wanted bacon, eggs and toast. Not fruit salad."

          "I cancelled your meal plan," Father pipes up just as the maid winces at my glare. I turn away from her to find Father sawing a waffle into tiny bite sized pieces with a knife. "I've noticed that you seem to be eating very unhealthy things."

          "Oh Sweet Baby Jesus," I groan, pushing the bowl away to my left roughly. "You have got to be kidding me."

          "When was the last time you even went to the gym?" Father asks me before shoving a piece of waffle into his mouth. I wait for him to stop chewing. He does, after a moment. "I understand you have this twisted belief that you have to gain weight to be beautiful but this is just absurd."

          I purse my lips to keep a smile from breaking out on my face. I fail, just like I normally do on a Math test. "Are you saying I've gained weight?"

          He frowns at the smile on my face. "No you haven't and I thank Dolce&Gabbana for that."

         My smile melts without preamble. I roll my eyes and eye his plate. "Look Father-"

          "You are not growing up into the kind of woman I expect you to be. The kind of girl I raised you to be," Father sighs. "This girl you're trying to mold yourself into... you shouldn't be going down this path."

          "What path? I'm just being myself Father," I roll my eyes. "I'm molding myself into myself. I've always wanted piercings and tattoos and you don't just want me to look like a stereotypical basket case all because of the stupid media that hounds this stupid place."

          "I already let you dress like you're attending a funeral 24/7," Father snaps and the maids stop arranging the table like a pause button has suddenly been pressed. "You leave Beverly Hills on a daily basis and for what? To Downtown L.A. where you whore yourself to low quality boys! Where you go about getting cheap piercings and tattoos and looking like the poster child for cultism! And I won't accept it anymore! You're an Anderson so act like an Anderson!"

          My blood practically boils in my veins. "Well, maybe I don't want to be an Anderson!"

          There's silence for a long moment as we both stare each other down like we normally do when one of us decides to let an argument escalate. His eyes are blue- not the pretty blue that makes someone think of the sky on a beautiful summer day. No; his eyes glitter like hard faded sapphires- like ice. Any other person caught in his glare would probably back down without a second thought.

          My glare is simply a replica of his.

          He shakes his head, still maintaining eye contact. He raises an eyebrow and cocks his head to the side. "And I didn't want to be a father but I suppose we don't always get what we want."

          This isn't the first time he's said this and I know for a fact that this isn't going to be the last time either. But unfortunately, this piece of knowledge doesn't stop the words from being any less painful.

          I swallow a string of so called "vulgar" words before standing up. "I'm going out," I say, my voice huskier than usual. "I'm going to march out the door, drive to Downtown L.A and whore myself, as you so eloquently put it, to some pretty boys and some very hot girls. Then I'm gonna eat some pizza. And there's nothing you can do about it."

          I turn away from his heavy gaze and make my way out of the dining room, my heartbeat explicitly loud in my ears. The maids off duty move out of my path and I quickly sprint pass them and make my way to the front door before Father can think of telling one of the male staff to lock me up in my room or a closet- whichever one comes first.

          I effortlessly push the doors open and step out into the almost blinding sunlight. I put my hand over the hood of my eyes to act as a sort of shade before sprinting towards the garage.

          "Stupid, stupid, stupid," I pant as I quickly make my way to my car. Thankfully, from experience, just like some people always have their phones on them, I always carry around my car keys in case I need to make a quick get away. Like now, for instance.

          I quickly unlock the car door, jump in, slam the door shut, put the key into ignition, back out of the driveway and make my way out of the general vicinity. My car zooms right through the streets of Beverly Hills and I take a deep breath, ignoring the way my stomach grumbles.

          I keep my eyes on the road as I dig one hand into my pocket to get one of my phones out. I hit the speed dial button and wait for the person on the other end to pick.

          She doesn't.

          "Fuck," I curse out loud, dialling her number again, "Reyna pick up. Now is so not the time to be in the freaking library."

          This time, it goes straight to voice-mail. I groan, cut the call before she can fully introduce herself and toss my phone to the side. It lands on the front passenger seat.

          Reyna has been ignoring my calls and texts for the past three days- since the day I told Aakrati to suck a flaccid cock- and I don't even know why. I would be worried that something has happened to her but then again, I've been seeing her very recent Facebook posts. Hanging out with random people, reading with even more random people, going to have coffee with one particular blonde girl that I keep seeing in all the pictures...

          I mean, it's not like she's actively trying to cut me out of her life even if it seems like it. It can't be that. Sure, we're more than a thousand miles away from each other and she's always been the friendliest asshole of them all but that doesn't mean she's trying to delete me out of her suddenly people infested life.

          I sigh at the thought of her having a good time without me. Okay, maybe I'm a bit jealous that she's all the way there having fun and successfully living her dream while I'm here still struggling to keep a smile on my face but whatever. I can ignore it all. I know she'll get back to me soon.

          I'm already in my favourite territory. I drive down the streets of Downtown L.A. feeling just a little bit lighter. The buildings loom over the streets creating some kind of artificial shade and as always, the atmosphere is bustling with activity and adrenaline.

          I drive to one of my favorite fast food places; the rundown pizzeria- Pedro's Pizzeria- located right between the famous tattoo parlour known as The Canvas and a book shop that everyone  knows I'll never even bother to try out. I grab my phone from it's spot on the front passenger seat, park my car and quickly walk out, black boots thudding heavily against the pavement.

          I walk into the pizzeria and smile as I I inhale the heavily scent of melted cheese, pepperoni and sexy dough. As always, the place isn't full of people due to the fact that most customers apparently prefer the local Pizza Hut branch nearby but oh well. Pedro's Pizzeria makes the greasiest pizza known to mankind and I am a huge fan of extremely greasy pizza.

          "Scarlett!" Agustín, the balding slightly overweight owner of the pizzeria basically shouts as soon as he sees me. He leaves his spot at the counter and jogs towards me before pulling me into a hug. I chuckle and return the hug.

          "Agustín," I murmur as soon as he pulls away. I smirk down at his 5'6 frame. "How have you been? It's been a while."

          He shrugs, gesturing to the empty tables around us. "I've been okay. The business, not really. Can't burn Pizza Hut down," he says, his Spanish accent slightly coating the words.

          I try to give him a convincing smile but I'm sure it looks more like a grimace on my face. I'm a pro when it comes to lying but I can't really lie to people I actually like. And unfortunately for Agustín, I like him. "Don't worry Gus. I'm a loyal customer. I'm here to stay."

          He smiles at me warmly, brown eyes sparkling. "Gracias. Anyhow, you're here to eat? Not just stopping by? Pedro is in the kitchen- Hawaiian pizza as always, correct?"

            I shake my head, holding my stomach for extra emphasis. "Actually I'm here to take on your almighty pizza challenge. The one where I have to eat about five mega boxes of pizza and win a prize?"

          Agustín blinks up at me like I've suddenly grown three heads. "Scarlett. Have you gone crazy? Loca?"

          "No. Not yet," I answer truthfully. "I'm just very hungry plus I kinda promised myself that I'll take on this challenge and win."

          He gives me a look. "The challenge no longer exists."

          I shake my head. "Oh come on Gus-"

          "He's being serious," a familiar accented voice says sharply, cutting me off and I snap my eyes towards the counter behind Agustín. Pedro, the poster tween for sarcasm and angst stands behind the aforementioned counter and crosses his arms over his torso. "Until this place gets popular again, then no more challenges."

          I raise an eyebrow at the boy. Why anyone would name a pizzeria after him is beyond me. Maybe he's the reason why people like Pizza Hut more. "Well, hello to you too Pedro," I greet.

         He grunts in acknowledgement before he continues with his monologue. "Plus I'm tired, I need to catch up on my social life so I can't start making tons of pizza for you right now."

          What a salty blooded tween. I roll my eyes and turn my attention back to Agustín who looks ready to throw a shoe at his very "polite" son. I watch as he squats to pick up his discarded flip flop.

          Before I can get the satisfaction of seeing a flip flop collide with Pedro's pretty boy face, the door opens and closes behind me. I turn around to see Ian Ross staring at me with blue eyes devoid of emotion.

          I frown at him as he continues to stare. "Well, hello to you too."

          Ian nods slowly. "Hey."

          We stare each other down for a while although I'm not sure why. The last time we met, he heard me broadcast my life story, bought me a venti iced white chocolate mocha and basically kissed me on the cheek before sprinting away. Nothing too shady happened. So we're basically cool.

          Agustín clears his throat somewhere behind me. "Ian. Welcome. Chicken Alfredo with extra chicken?"

          Ian nods without taking his gaze off mine. "Yeah. I'm eating here so no need for a box."

          Pedro clears his throat. "Okay. But just a reminder; this is a pizzeria. Not a studio for porn."

          I'm aware of Agustín shouting something in Spanish along with retreating footsteps and Pedro shouting something right back.

          "I watched Boys Over Flowers," Ian finally breaks the silence blanketing us. He walks to a random booth in a corner and my legs are suddenly compelled to follow him. So they do.

          "Oh?" I murmur, sitting down right in front of him as he sits down. "And how was it? Did you like it?"

          "Animes are much more sensible but I suppose it wasn't that bad," he shrugs lightly, putting his tattooed arms on the table. "I'll watch Drinking Solo next."

          "Wow," I mutter under my breath because I don't have any other thing to say. I haven't even bothered to check out any episode of The Big Bang Theory like I promised the last time we met so I can't even bother to keep the conversation going.

          "Yeah," he says after a moment. I avert my gaze from his and look down at my manicure. He clears his throat. "So. How have you been?"

          "Good," I murmur. "You?"

           "Same," he says. He whistles. He stops. "How's the bucket list coming along?"

            "Nice," I reply. "How's the parlour?"

            "Great," he replies after a long moment. "How's-"

             "You guys sound like preschoolers who just got dared to kiss each other on the lips," Pedro sighs and I snap my gaze away from my nails to look at him. He raises an eyebrow at me. "You still haven't made your order. Hawaiian or nothing?"

            I glare at the boy. "Just get me a Hawaiian pizza then."

          He rolls his eyes with a nod before walking away. I wait for him to walk into the kitchen located behind the counter before turning my attention back to Ian.

          "...I'm stumped. I really don't know what to say at this point," I shrug, drumming my fingers against the table and this time, I look at the band name printed on Ian's white shirt. Nickelback. I turn my gaze back to his.

          The atmosphere basically shifts as Ian's face suddenly lights up with a smirk. He leans in close and suddenly, I can see a brown ring surrounding his left iris and and a brown spot in the right iris.

          I lean away before I can compliment his eyes. I glare at him instead, swallowing a string of praises meant for his eyes. "Do you even have boundaries?"

           He chuckles, leaning back into his seat. "Finally. The real you is back. You were being too polite for my liking."

          I ignore the way the back of my neck suddenly feels hot. "Oh, shut up."

          "I will," he says and suddenly, I'm not comfortable under his stare. He ogles me slowly like he's gauging the effect his words will have. Finally, he clears his throat. "I mean, I'll shut up once you give me your phone number."

         
To be edited.