𝟔: 𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

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𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝟐𝟏𝐬𝐭, 𝟏𝟗𝟗𝟖 || 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐚 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐚, 𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐚

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𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝟐𝟏𝐬𝐭, 𝟏𝟗𝟗𝟖 || 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐚 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐚, 𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐚

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Just as I expected, the talk with my mother didn't go well. At the mention of me asking for help with the bills, she immediately shut me down. She claimed to be using the money for her job's 'traveling expenses' and of course, I didn't believe her. Though I knew my mother lied straight through her teeth, I couldn't help but give her a smile and apologize for asking. In all my years of living, I've never once disrespected my mother and I didn't want to start any time soon.

She left last night, claiming she had to go to a meeting in Los Olivos. The mention of Los Olivos immediately brung my thoughts to Michael who was on his way over from the recording studio. I admit to being nervous about Michael coming over to my apartment since I've never invited anyone here aside from Yas and Reese. Braden was at school for the day and Mel was at therapy, giving me the perfect opportunity to have him over without any issues.

A knock on the door startled me a bit but I knew exactly who it was. I nervously paced over to my door and opened it.

"Sparkles!" he shouted as he embraced me tightly. I reciprocated his movements and chuckled. I had to tippy toe to hug him properly.

"I missed you," I whispered into the crook of his neck, trying to balance myself on my toes.

"I missed you more," he confessed. We slowly released each other and I welcomed him inside of my home.

"It's not much but we make due," I shrugged as he looked around. He wasn't as shy as he made his way around my living room, looking at the many family photos that hung on the wall. He hovered over one in particular, which had me, my mother, Mel, and my father.

"Those are my parents. That's actually the last picture we took together as a family. My little brother was on the way in this picture I believe," I informed him as I averted my attention to him. I was startled to see that he was already looking at me.

"Amaya," his tone was serious, very different from what I'm used to. "Where are your parents? Why... why aren't they here with you?"

I guess I should've expected him to ask about them sooner or later. During one of our phone calls, I told him that my parents weren't here with me but I never went into detail.

"Uh my father left us when I was about thirteen years old and my mother was actually just here last night. She um... she travels a lot for work so she's never really around," I force myself to say.

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