𝐌𝐑𝐒. 𝐏𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐏𝐒

𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗠𝗧𝗛

Birds chirped and cawed, the lovely sound of the racing trains and traffic along with the usual blare of the police sirens.The blazing Los santos sun crept through crack of the dusty curtains, shining on the pair as tacky floral sheets covered their naked bodies.

Skin on skin, her body enveloped by his. Eyes fluttered open as they adjusted to the sudden ray of light, as the feeling of wet warmth overcame her senses. Positioning her self up as she rubbed her eyes widening at the scene ahead of her.It was clear the shenanigans that went on the night before.

Clothes scattered across the carpet, as cans of beer decorated the bed side table. A duffle bag of cash planted to the side as her bag leant upon the desk. Used condoms spilled over onto the floor as the sweaty smell of human filled the room. Her eyes circled back to the stranger in the sheets, could she even classify him as a stranger at this point.

Her hand slightly glided on his cheek watching as his chest rose up and down, his loud snores tickling her skin. It had been a while since she was accompanied in bed, usual nights consisted of twisting and turning as she attempted to fall into slumber. Sleepless night with the view of the ceiling and moon to comfort her loneliness.

Trailing over the scars on his face to the tattoo on his arm, down to the small poke holes and scratched on his forearm. The sudden vibration of her phone on the bedside table brought her out of her daze, reaching over she immediately silenced her phone glancing at the pile of notifications clogging up her phone. Miss calls and message along with emails all from him.

The only one whose made her feel the worst she's ever felt in her life. She knew she wasn't as pretty or as smart as the other girls. She knew all the things he said was right, she wasn't stupid. She heard all the mumbles and murmurs, she knew what they all thought of her. But he didn't have to say it. He didn't have to be so vile. Could he not at least lie.

It was obvious she wasn't no Angelina jolie or Naomi Campbell but he didn't have to be so harsh. She had many beautiful friends who'd smile and call her pretty, but no matter the times she was told she simply couldn't believe it.

She never got 'asked out' or stared at like the others.
She was always the one standing at the side as her friends were being chatted up. She was always the 'sister' the 'mom' friend never the 'hot' one. You'd have to be another level of dumb to believe such words when reality differs.

Once puberty hit the only assets she was complimented for was her body. As the boys used to say it was her only 'good' asset. She remembered her past exes, her old days in college and high school.

One ex she had refused to have sex facing her and the other who only had sex with her. The many parties where she'd hide away in the corner, holding drinks or remained in the toilet.

Always the drive home, the person to go to for a favour, the cook, the provider, the giver.

Hugging her stomach the once prickling feeling remerged as the numb feeling flew in. Shuffling back into the sheets swallowing the thick lump in her throat. Shifting herself back into the warmth of his thick arms, she screwed her eyes shut praying the horrid feeling would leave.

"This is a surprise," the sound of his morning voice vibrated in her ears as she leaned into his chest.
"It's rare that my hook ups stay the night."

Silently she remained laying on his chest his eyes turning down to the crown of her head. "Still sleepy?" He wrapped his arm round he waist.

Geniveve simply nodded clinging tighter to his skin, yet her trembling fingers gave her away. Placing his finger under her chin he faced the tearful woman as she bit back the sobs. "It seems you always seem to be crying," he sighed rubbing her back.Within each stroke tears erupted her body shaking with utter frustration and misery. "At this point it seems as a greeting."

"What might have caused this wave of tears?" He stroked her back his usual rough voice now soft.
"I mean I know I'm not quite the charmer but-"

"It's not you,"she sniffled. "It's just a lot of stuff coming to me right now."

"Well that's relief. Not for you, but for me. You get what I mean," he propped himself up.

"I get it, Trevor,"she rasped following suit.

"Your phone is really blaring up,"he pulled on a pair of worn down jeans. "Someone must be persistent."

"Perhaps too late,"she sighed switching the phone off.