[+18]* NOW COMPLETE*
Back Series Book 2
Dylan's been a good boy all his life but there's this insurgent flame that has been burning inside him and it's waiting for the right moment to be let out. He doesn't know what or why but he knows that somethi...
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"Hey, beautiful," I greet when her beautiful face finally shows on camera.
She'd had the camera off, claiming she was ugly today. But I know she could never, she's always so pristine about her appearance. But making things more complicated is an Abby thing, and I know how to work my way around it.
"Hey," she greets back.
Her golden locks are tightly caught up in a low bun, a hairdo she wears often, giving her a classy, professional style.
"What did you do today, baby?" I ask.
"You know," she drawls on. "The usual, my morning routine, spent some time with the girls, and now I am by myself in this huge house because you've decided to abandon me."
"We've been through this before, Abby," I sigh. "I've come to college."
"To learn how to paint? You already know how to do that. You could have chosen something that would teach you something and give you a real career. You know, like the one your father has!" She snaps
I pinch the bridge of my nose in annoyance. Then I count to ten so I don't snap at her.
It's Friday. The mystery college girl has been nothing but rude, classes are more complicated than I thought, and I am tired. I am not in the mood to argue.
"What the hell is that?" Abby screeches, and I regret showing my hand on the screen.
"What the hell does it look like? Rings."
"Of course, you'd use the distance to dress back like a homeless person or a criminal. Seriously Dylan? It looks awful on you!"
"Well, everyone but you seems to think otherwise. Me, especially."
"Oh yeah? I bet all of those slutty college students are all over you right now, thinking you're this bad boy when you're anything but."
It's not like what she says isn't true. I am not a player or bad boy kind of guy, and I seriously don't care about any of that, but to see how judgmental she is when she knows I'm nothing like that, just because I like to dress like this, hurts.
It hurts.
"You know I like to dress like this since we were kids," I admit, hoping she'll understand.
"And I've worked hard to take that bad habit from you. Just for you to want to leave me all alone here and revert to bad habits."
"That's enough, Abby," I raise my voice. "You're going too fucking far. I like dressing this way, deal with it!"
"I knew you were going there was a bad thing. Not wanting a real career for starters, and then dressing like a punk. What's next, huh?"
For her to be behaving like this, I bet that something happened. She doesn't get into this foul mood for no reason, but I've had a tough week, too, and I called her, looking for comfort, for some affection, and for a reminder of what I have back home.
