𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇 𝐌𝐄 | 𝟏𝟖+

F I F T E E N

"Well my parents weren't together when they were younger. My mom had me when she was in highschool. My dad was her teacher..."

"Yikes," Henry whispered.

"I was always back and fourth, mostly with my mom though. Whenever I was with my dad, at his house, there was never any love. He was the only one that loved me. My half siblings hated and still do. My aunt ignores me," Agnes shrugged. "I don't know either sides of my grandparents besides the fact that they are all royal fucked up," Agnes sighed. "So my parents always made sure they I had them. They made sure I could count on them."

"And you could?"

"Yeah. Yeah always." Agnes looked into the distance.

"And what about this ex girlfriend of yours? What'd she do to you?"

"Besides cheating? Made me feel loved," Agnes shrugged. "My whole life I only had but my parents. I've never had a consistent friendship," Agnes shook her head.

"And what did she teach you?"

"Teach me?"

"Yeah. You had to have learned something. Right?"

"Like?"

"Like the fact that she screwed you over twice."

Anges scoffed. But nonetheless, she thought for a little.

"I guess she taught me what love doesn't look like. She taught me...she taught me that I can't depend on someone, or something," she pointed to the bottles, "for my happiness."

"You won't be making that mistake again now will you?"

Agnes shook her head. "Absolutely not." There she goes, biting her lip again. "What about you? Whats this thing with your daughter? I told you about me now tell me about you."

"I had her when I was seventeen with this fucking devil of a human being. She was a distraction from my shitty time in a foster home. Then she got pregnant and sober while I continued my shit."

"Foster home?" Agnes furrowed her brows.

"Yeah. My mother pushed me down a flight of steps while drunk one night, her final straw, so they put me in a home."

"That's...I'm sorry."

"Nah it's fine. I do have a cool scar on my back though." Henry walked around the bar. He lifted his shirt up, showing her the long scar on his back.

"How is it still so...there," she traced her fingers along the scar.

He shrugged, pulling his shirt down. "Not sure but when my daughter, Hudson, was born I realized I didn't want that for her too," he sighed. He sat down on the stool next to Agnes's.

"There's a but I bet."

"But I found myself off the wagon again when she was like four. So now I only get to see my girl on the weekends," he chuckled. "I'd do anything for more time. But I'm also scared to get more time."

Agnes put a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. "She knows you love her and that's whats important. I couldn't tell you how many times my mother cried about the shit she's been through and how she doesn't want me to end up like her."

"It's terrifying."

"I bet." Agnes shrugged. "I'm Agnes by the way."

"Agnes," he chuckled. "Maybe you do have issues."

"Stop," she slapped his shoulder. "I like my name."

"You keep convincing yourself of that," he laughed.

Agnes rolled her eyes.

They both stopped laughing but catching eye contact after they did. They were having a moment. For the first time in her life she wasn't thinking about Ava and she didn't want to eat a pussy.

They began to lean in, the closer they got the more their bodies began to heat up. But before their lips could lock, an unexpected visitor walked in.