The Lover Boy Letters

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic
Yes, I'm ashamed of myself about publishing a romance too, but I had to put this out. This is about Simon McKinnon and how he and his girlfriend Kelly Pritchard worked things out.

Submitted: December 25, 2011

A A A | A A A

Submitted: December 25, 2011



Dear Si,

I’m sorry. This is awful. My parents haven’t exactly reacted the way I expected. Actually, they have and that’s the problem. They’ve taken my phone and computer away, plus they’ve told the principal to keep an eye out for you around Celestia. They told her you’re a deranged stalker and they’ve alerted all the teachers around campus. Melanie came up with the idea of exchanging letters. She’s calling herself the carrier pigeon of love and started cooing “A Whole New World” all recess. It was actually pretty funny.

But seriously now, we have got to find a way to talk about this. We NEED to talk about this. A baby is a big thing and I’m scared, Si. I’m really scared. My parents are coming up with all of these crazy ideas, and they’re talking about abortions and adoption and I’m just so confused. God knows, you’re probably not keeping a clearer head than what I am, by all means, freak out, just please tell me it’s going to be ok. Nobody, not one person, has put their arm around me and said, “It’s going to be ok.” You have to be that person. We need to talk. I’m pretty much under house arrest, so pull through for me here, ok? Please?

I love you, Simon.




I’m terrified as hell too. I have no idea what to do, either. I want to support you, hell, I wanna do whatever the hell it takes to get to you, but I can’t. We’re scraping by on our inheritance and whatever I’m earning. I’m working three jobs all together that are shit and that only pays for the food every week, let alone everything else. Michelle is furious at me. She keeps saying, “Why don’t you go to her? Take her away or some shit?” She doesn’t understand that your parents won’t let me. She thinks I’m lying and trying to puss out on you. I’m not, Kelly. I love you, trust me, I’m racking my brain trying to think of a solution to this mess. Do you have one? You’re right. We do need to talk about this. We’re going to. Tim and I have a plan and I’m sure it’s going to work. Don’t worry, I’ve got this.





“This is the stupidest idea I have ever heard,” said Simon flatly as he and Tim stood on the porch. His best friend had been more than understanding when Simon had come to him for help, but now Simon thought that maybe there were better candidates. Tim had straightened and slicked back his blond hair and dug a grey suit out of his closet. He wore his school shoes which he actually rarely ever wore, and had thick, black hipster glasses. “Well, I didn’t hear you give any helpful suggestions,” he said, scratching his stubble. “Are you going to ring the doorbell or what?”

Simon baulked. Being scared was unnatural to him. He was the troubled, yet confident rebel who’d seen it all. He wasn’t scared. He was never scared. Two middle aged phonies he could handle. Tim got frustrated and rang the doorbell. Simon felt his stomach curl into a ball of nerves. Keep it cool, he told himself. You’re cool.

A large woman with a wrinkly face and a pronounced jaw opened the door. She had curly orange hair and was attempting to accentuate her curves (if you could call them that) with a poorly fitting pink t-shirt and long hippie skirt. As she glowered at him with her piggy little eyes, the lady reminded him of an ill-tempered bulldog. Simon hadn’t grown fond of Kelly’s mother at all over the past five months. Before Mrs Pritchard could respond, Tim stepped in front of Simon and boomed, “Good evening, Madam! My name is Timothy Jacques Marcel Christopher Barton! This is my client, Simon McKinnon and he wishes to speak your daughter whom you are currently holding prisoner. May we come in?”

Mrs Pritchard looked shocked. “You hired a lawyer?!” she asked Simon in disbelief.

“Well, believe it or not,” he snapped, “it takes two to tango and that’s my child your daughter’s carrying too.”

“The man is entitled to his rights!” Tim interruptedly wisely. “So step aside please, madam, so we can discuss this in a civil manner,” he demanded with a flourish of his hands, almost dropping his briefcase full of comics in the process.

“Mum? Who’s there?” ask Kelly, descending down the stairs like a goddess. She was beautiful, with black hair and a round, pale face that shone like the moon (which Simon suddenly realised didn’t make sense because the moon didn’t shine, but he shrugged it off and admired her beauty once more.) Cute, light freckles were sprinkled atop her small nose, and her usual soft smile, returned to her face when she saw Simon. “Si!” she squealed as she ran down the stairs at Simon. His heart leapt, seeing her again. “Be careful, Kel-,” His lips were silenced by hers. Simon thought he would never be so cheesy as to even think that he was the luckiest guy on earth, but in that moment of reconciliation, he thought it. Tim cleared his throat and suggested, “Well, let’s get inside, shall we?”





Kelly was overjoyed to see Simon again. Simon looked just as she remembered from last week, like Kelly somehow thought he would’ve changed. He still had his crinkly green eyes. Still had his lip, nose and ear piercings still had his shaggy chestnut hair, still had that killer smile that hadn’t left his face since he’d seen her. He was the hottest guy at Beachcombe High, and somehow, Kelly, one of the D.U.F.F’s  of Celestia’s elite, had managed to get him. He was one of the most caring people on planet earth. Not the smartest, but probably the wisest. Especially since he was only sixteen, but he seemed older. He and Simon sat opposite Kelly’s parents, staring each other down, like they were having a Mexican standoff in silence. “Let me get this right,” said Kelly’s father, stepping up to take the first shot, “you believe that your client has the right to visit my daughter, despite not having anything to do with her since knocking her up?”

“On the contrary, they’ve been going strong for about five months,” Tim corrected. He really had the whole lawyer act down.

What?!” snapped Kelly’s mother. Kelly looked at her with an apologetic expression.

“I know, right?” asked Tim in shared disbelief, breaking character. His smile was shot down by a death glare from Simon. “I mean, yes. Yes they have,” he recovered. “My client has the right to see your daughter as well as be involved in his child’s life.”

“And what if we don’t allow him to?” asked Kelly’s father.

Tim gave him a faux reassuring smile. “We’ll sue you for custody.”

Her mother and father looked at each other and they smirked at Tim. 



Dear Si,

Well, it was a good try anyway. I didn’t even think my parents knew the word countersue. But don’t worry; I don’t think you can sue for the medical costs. So long as you and Tim leave them alone, they’ll drop it, I think. Tim does a very convincing lawyer act. I reckon he would make a decent lawyer one day.

Seeing as we can’t talk about this stuff in person, we’re going to have to do it in letter form, alright? Now, about the baby. I love you, but I’m a realist here. Guys usually don’t stay with their pregnant girlfriends. I don’t want you to feel pressured to stay with me. If you want to run, run. Go out and do something. I know I’m stuck with this and it was because we were irresponsible. My parents say they’ll help me if you’re out of the picture. I, I just don’t know. I mean, I’d love for you to stay but, it doesn’t look likely for us. I mean, if we were like Tim and Sera who’ve been going for years and years, but we’ve only been going out five months! I’m not ready to give up, but it doesn’t really seem like there’s a choice.





Are you kidding me? Do you really think I’m going to give up that easily? No. No way, Kelly. I’m not leaving. I want to be a part of my child’s life. Do I want to run? No. Well, to be absolutely honest, a little. But I’m not going to, because this is my responsibility now too. The way I see it, there are three options here.

One, I stay, we drop out to get jobs, and live poor but happy for the rest of our lives.

Two, we go our separate ways, your parents help you out with the baby and I never see you guys ever again. (I’m not a fan of this option.)

Three? Honestly, I think you should consider abortion as a choice. I know, I don’t want it either, but you HAVE to think about it.

What do you want to do? This is your choice now, Kelly. Do I stay or do I go? Is this goodbye? I don’t want it to be, but you’re the mother. Chose, please, before everyone else does for us.


P.S. Tim says he’d be a terrible lawyer. He wants to be a teacher to “make a difference” or some shit like that.





Sitting in that waiting room with her mother was one of the most embarrassing things ever.

The older mothers stared a t Kelly and made assumptions. Staring at her, then looking away hurriedly as soon as she caught their eye. Old bitches. Her mother sat a whole three seats away from her, with her huge nose buried in a gossip rag.  Kelly wondered if she was still in denial. Her father certainly was. However, Kelly did have to give them some credit. It had taken herself about a month to work up the courage to take a test and another three weeks to tell Simon. Her parents, by comparison, had taken it well and while they still weren’t speaking to her and had her trapped in the house, at least they had decided to help.

Kelly was still thinking about Simon. When she told him, all he did was drop everything and give her a hug saying not a word. Was he happy? Shocked? Only until the whole letter system had been figured out did Kelly know, yes, he was shocked and terrified, just like she was, but he was also happy.

A door opened an Indian looking woman stepped out with a clipboard. “Miss Pritchard?” she asked with a surprisingly Australian accent. Call it prejudice, but Kelly always expected a different one.

Kelly stood up and expected her mother to come along with her. No luck. The great lump sat reading and didn’t even twitch at my name. “Fine then,” Kelly mumbled. “I’ll go by myself.”


After answering at least a hundred questions of Dr White’s before getting on the table and looking at the monitor to find a baby. Kelly was really worried. What if there was no heartbeat? What if the baby was already dead? A huge wave of relief rushed over Kelly as she heard thud thud thud thud. “Oh,” said Dr White, surprised.

“Oh?” asked Kelly, worried again in an instant.

“Well, for starters, you’re further along than expected. About two and a half months, I think. Most teenage mothers come in around six weeks,” she explained.

“And?” asked Kelly.

“Well, you see that heartbeat there? How it’s really loud? That’s two hearts beating together,” she explained further.

At first Kelly didn’t get it. Was she saying that her heartbeat and the baby’s were in sync? It took a second, until it hit her. “I’m having twins?” she asked breathlessly.

Dr White smiled. “You bet your extra baby,” she said. “Congratulations.”

That was the moment Kelly knew she had to make up her mind. Simon, or her future.



Dear Simon,

In an ideal world, I would’ve chosen you. If we lived in a world, where things were great for teenage mothers and the timing wasn’t so shit with the economy and all. I want a future. I want to do things! If I just go with you, who knows what’ll happen with us down the line? At least with my parents, they can support me and by God, do you know how this feels? It’s feels like I’m killing someone here. I love you, Simon, I do, but I need to be supported. I’m having twins, alright? That’s two babies to pay for and take care of. We can’t do that alone. I am so, so sorry Si, but this had to happen.

Here are the supposed “guidelines:”

You can visit us anytime, so long as you’re willing to make the visits regular and not just one off things.

When you CAN scrape some spare money together, you got to put in in our children’s bank account.

Those are your guidelines. You’re allowed to be at the birth.

I love you, Blaine Darren Simon McKinnon,




A couple of things. I understand. I totally accept your decision. As of now, we are no longer boyfriend and girlfriend, but parents. We may not be together, but we are going to work at it, alright? I know it’s a little early, but I have name suggestions, if you want ‘em. Probably Slash or Carlos if they’re boys. If you don’t like Slash, how about Saul Hudson? It’s just as good. And if they’re girls, I’m thinking something pretty, like Loretta or January. It’s your choice, though, obviously.

I don’t care if we’re not together anymore. I still love you, Kell.



I was happy as I rode with Tim to Celestia, finally being able to deliver my letter myself. Tim really was an awesome friend. I wish he were more gay, so I could thank him better, but words were enough and, eh, we’d made out once. Okay twice, but the first time was a dare! “Remember when we made out?” I asked Tim.

Tim half-shrugged. “Yeah. Why?”

“Just wondering,” said I. You know, I’m actually bi. Tim says he might have been at some point, but now it’s just down to curiosity. Whatever. I think the pendulum might never swing for me, though. Guys, they’re awesome. I’m pretty sure they’re the best choice to have a relationship with, as we get each other. We can bond over music, games sport, all the vital things we like and chicks don’t. But hey, let’s face it, women look better naked. Not that guys don’t, and I usually don’t go on looks alone, but usually, women win. I’m come on, if you could have, say Chris Colfer or Christina Hendricks, I’d probably pick Hendricks because, and most of both genders would agree with me here, she’s hot. Even so, I think Kelly could top her. Kelly. The mother of my child. My annoying, teenage boy thoughts were squashed in an instant as I remembered, oh wait, I’m going to go see the mother of my children! Tim and I had bludged the last biology double (because, trust me, we got a handle on that) and headed off to Celestia.

Tim and I sat in the car outside the high white walls of Celestia and Tim was singing and strumming the guitar he always kept in his car. Guy can sing, really well actually, but he doesn’t wanna do anything with it. He’s quite happy to sit there and just play Green Day songs all day. I actually write my own songs. After he was finished Homecoming, I nicked it off him and played my own little tune. Tim started humming along before asking, “Which song’s that?”

“Mine,” I told him. The bell rang and we watched as all these private school girls dressed in long white skirts and navy blazers poured out of the white prison. I searched among them to find Kelly. She was actually quite easy to spot. The other jackets left a bubble around her, steering clear of her like the plague. I jumped out of the car, letter in hand and ran out to her. “KELL! KELL! KELLY!” She finally turned to look at me and her pale face lit up! It was great! I embraced her, but she pulled back. “We’re not going out anymore,” she said.

“I know,” I told her, “But I had to deliver this in person.”

She gave me a glowing smile and I knew we were going to make this work.



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