Pretty Little Thing by Storm Molly & McDonald Chelsea

Author:Storm, Molly & McDonald, Chelsea
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-07-05T00:00:00+00:00

Angel

I need to escape. I run through the house and exit through the front door. Fuck! I don’t even have my bike with me. It’s not that long of a walk home, although I definitely wouldn’t trek it after dark, but I hate that feeling of being stranded.

I sink to the ground and perch myself on the curb of the sidewalk outside of the house, I don’t know whether to stay or go. It’s nice to have a seat as I proceed to mentally bash myself. I can’t fucking believe this! I rest my head in my hands as exhaustion hits. I don’t even like the fucking guy, and he’s already giving me a migraine.

I hear the door open and close behind me. I don’t turn. I don’t care who it is, I’m pretty sure I couldn’t feel any more unwanted than I do right now. I hear the footsteps of someone moving closer towards me, they slow and then stop. I’ve been played for a fool. Goddamn all those fucking Sapphires. Whoever it is clears their throat. I don’t turn towards them. This whole fucking house can go burn for all I care.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see black boots, dark denim jeans. Cohen.Fuck it. Hasn’t he insulted me enough already?I can’t believe we kissed. What was that about? And, what the hell was I thinking?

“I wanted to apologies.”

“I should just go,” I whisper to myself and start to stand. I need to distance myself from these people altogether, and I’d better start walking back now before the sun starts to set.

An open bottle of beer appears in my peripheral vision. Against my better judgement, I take it and take a swig. If nothing else, maybe it’ll make my headfuck go away. There’s a moment of silence before Cohen sits down beside me, a comfortable distance away.

“What you heard in there. I’m not gonna insult you by saying it’s not true, but that was before.”

“Before?” I echo. I don’t even know why I’m listening. Worthless.

“Before I even knew anything about you. The work you’re trying to do, the kind of person you are. Today you walked in and everyone immediately loved you.” He sounds genuine. But I don’t know how much I care.

For a second I don’t know what to say, but Cohen fills the silence. “I wish I knew him, y’know.”

“Knew who?” His words throw me completely.

“Your father. I’m told he was a good man. My uncle Benny, he spoke highly of him.”

“Sometimes I wish I’d known him better…” I say. “You musta been a kid when he died too…” I see him nod. I don’t know why, but this urge to keep my father to myself has risen within me. He’s mine, not Cohen’s. Mine.

“I was seventeen. It was a year before good ol’ Pops threw me out.”

“Seventeen…” What I’d give to have been seventeen, not twelve when my father died. Maybe I could have done something about it then… Maybe mom… I shake my head to clear it.

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