Why am I even crying?
Fucking hormones, that's what.
As soon as I left the dealership in my new car, I sat down and I realized how wet I was. At first, I thought it was from my interaction with Sly, but then I quickly realized that arousal wasn't red.
When I arrived home, I quickly hopped in the shower, put in a tampon, and changed my clothes. As to why I'm crying, I don't even know myself. Well, I did know, but as soon as I admitted it, I'd just end up crying more. I've been sitting up against my headboard for about an hour, a bottle of wine in hand, and the song Wonderwall playing on repeat in the background.
One of my dad's favorite songs.
I think back to all the argument's we'd have when I was sixteen, and I had not a clue about being a woman. He wouldn't even argue back- he'd just stare at me sympathetically, and let me yell at him, like my mother dying was his fault... but it wasn't, and I feel guilty.
I had said so many hurtful things to him, about how he'd never understand what it's like to not have a mom, someone to talk to for girl advice, or just someone to talk about my new crush to.
I didn't have many friends in my school days. I was the kid who went to school, made good grades, came home, and repeat. The first guy to ever notice me wasn't until tenth grade, when I had started to work out, and grow into a "woman's cocoon," as my dad put it.
It was disgusting to me that guys wouldn't even look my way when I had braces and square hips, but as soon as I lose weight, I'm the new "hot girl" in our sophomore class.
It was too much attention, and I hate attention on me, especially for the wrong reasons; so I ignored them. I stayed on top of my grades, focused on extracurriculars, and maintained my gpa; And no matter what grades I got, what classes I took, what sports I played, the truth of the matter was, she wasn't coming back.
Entering my junior year, I decided that it was time to stop giving my dad so much shit on the one situation he had no control over. I was determined to rebuild our bond, not that it was as broken as I thought, but there were cracks... healed over time, but nonetheless, they were there. I began to open up about things that I would want to talk about with my mom, no matter how personal, we began to get somewhere. What really helped was when I started applying to college. He was so supportive, and in the process of applying, I was able to learn more about him, and he was able to learn more about me.
And here I am, at 23, thinking about how I shouldn't have been such a bitch and pushed him away. Just that thought... that thought alone, knowing I was the one to put our relationship on the rocks because of something that he couldn't control- something that I caused.
She's not here because of me... and he had to live a life without his one true love- stuck with a brat of a daughter who blamed him for her being gone, just because she didn't want to admit to herself that she killed her own mother. It was her fault.
It was my fault.
Sobbing much louder than before, I sit the useless bottle of wine down on the side of my bed.
All it did was numb the pain, and enhance the guilt.
I began to slide my back down the headboard and crouch into a fetal position in the middle of my bed, hoping to put the guilt to rest, and the darkness to work.
Sleep was the only thing that I could hope would make some of the pain panging in my chest go away.
[+++]
Waking up was always a hard task for me, especially on Mondays- especially, when you're starting a new job, and especially when you realize that you're already late.
Yep, you heard it here first, folks- Auralee Salazar is late on her first day!
This isn't typically my style, being late that is, but after the weekend I've had, it was inevitable.
The only 'good' thing that came out of this weekend, was that I got a really hot guy's number.
He looked fun.
Throughout the weekend, I barely had time to think about him- should I call him?
Eh. I have better things to worry about , like trying to get to my job on time.
After brushing my teeth, and placing the earrings in their respective holes, I quickly sprinted to my kitchen to find something, anything, to put in my stomach before I left. I knew that I wouldn't have time to make a proper breakfast, so I opted for orange juice.
That should hold me.
Carefully chugging down the orange juice, to avoid spillage, I place the glass inside of the sink. I groan to myself at the sight, seeing as the sink only has one dish, and it takes everything in me not to take two minutes to wash the one glass. OCD, as one would call it.
I swiftly turn, and act like it's not there, as I grab for my tote purse, and phone. Quickly making sure that I turned off all of the lights in the flat, I head for the door. As soon as I lock my door, I remember that I don't have any shoes on.
See? Trainwreck.
"Fuck my life," I mutter to myself, as I try to open the door to my apartment. "Shoes."
I spot my heels, laying neatly on the floor next to my decorative cubby, near my door. I swipe them up, and as I'm already turning around, I hear a ding on my phone.
Swiftly glancing at it, I realize the time says 8:15 am, and not 9:15 am. Work doesn't start until 9:30.
"Oh, you're kidding me."
[+++]
Not my best chapter, but it's going to get juicy next chapter😏 I miss you guys, and I'm back on this book! I think I just needed a moment to step back from everything, regarding some of things that has been going on personally, but forget all of that- I'm back, and present!❤️
YOU ARE READING
Come Again
General Fiction"Come here." I looked up from my phone, to see his eyes narrowed at me, filled with darkness- lust, maybe? It's definitely that. Tucking my phone away back into my pocket, I began to take shy steps toward him. As we stand less than a feet away from...
