all of his attention is on her no matter how he feels about her.
He don't want to like her
He don't want to want her
He don't want to love her.
But she wants all of him. Will he let her?
the only two problems to say she thinks he hates her, little...
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ivory-
"Does dad know you working?" I asked, walking into Ace's bedroom.
Papers spread all over his bed, he lowers his glasses looking up at me.
"Father doesn't have a say on what I do." Ace sighed, typing away on his laptop.
It's been two weeks since the incident, and a second since thought about Giovanni. I would be lying if I said being away from Giovanni doesn't bother me.
It's eating me alive, I can't go to sleep without crying. I still sleep in his shirts he left shamelessly at my house.
I'm trying so hard not to give in, but it hurts so bad. I'm respecting his wishes to keep this "distance" but I feel like I'm hurting myself in the process.
"Well, does Emery have a say on what you do?" I asked, slipping off my Yeezy slide and jumping on his bed.
Emery is his assistant and she's a blessing, plus she is beautiful.
"Cut it out, and that's none of your business." He said sternly. I sit down crossing my legs, as I pick up one of his papers.
He snatched it out of my hand. Rude!
"I'm your sister, your love life is my business," I tell him, falling onto my back looking at the mirrored ceilings.
The dark circles under my eyes from the lack of sleep. I look like I don't love myself, which might be true.
"No, it's not." Ace grumbled, closing his laptop. Placing it to the side, I sit up looking at him.
We speak at the same time making our words mash together.
"Yeah, it is." "What did you do to your hair?"
I touch the ends of my hair, which once fell to the middle of my back now touch my shoulders.
What does it look like idiot?
"I cut it." I shrugged my shoulders. It's hard to believe since I'm emotional connected to my hair.
He didn't speak, he studied my face. I tilted my head forcing a smile. I don't like smiling anymore.
I broke his gaze by moving out of the bed wandering around his room. Picking and miss placing things just to irritate him.
I walked to his bedside table looking at all the medication they have him on. Percs, Adderall, Ibuprofen, and many more my mind can read but can't pronounce by the death of me.
I picked up the Adderall holding it in my hand. "Are they trying to make sure you're better or, trying to make you a drug addict?" I yelled.
