Alison Storm

Chapter 8

Alison

"Keep her away from cameras," my father says shortly before Rhys and I are supposed to leave for the party I'm far too hyped for.

"Will do," Rhys promises as if he actually has some kind of personal security knowledge. He's more of a fluffy bunny than a tough guy. Though, his exterior begs to differ.

"No dancing with random guys. And no going home with anyone. And, for the love of god, no drunk sex, you hear me, Alison?" My father looks at me with an amount of seriousness in his eyes, I barely ever witness. He's usually so warm with me, so loving. Clearly watching his eldest daughter leave for a party has him switch up real quick.

"Like you have room to talk," I mutter under my breath. I wasn't planning on going to a frat party to get some dick from a guy that'll be too drunk to even function properly.

And even though I only said what I said because he called me "Alison," my father truly doesn't have room to talk.

As soon as I was old enough and was a bit too interested in my parents' story, my mother admitted that I was never planned, or even supposed to happen.

But, hey, if it weren't for me, my parents wouldn't have found each other. Or so I'd like to think. Though, they probably would have thanks to my uncle. God, why's their story far too complicated?

And if it weren't for me, my siblings wouldn't have an awesome older sister, thank you very much.

My mother's giggles fill my heart with so much warmth, I might actually think it's about to catch on fire. Even just seeing her smile has my heart squeeze itself to death. Can't even begin to imagine in how much pain my father is when he is in literal love with her.

You see, I'm not one of those kids that find it embarrassing to show their parents some love the older they get. I love my parents. They've given me a really damn good life, even with the tabloids' obsession with me. That's not their fault, so I can't blame them.

They're the ones that raised me, been there for me all my life. They've given me more love than anyone could ever imagine. And with being the oldest of five kids, you'd think I'd eventually get thrown aside and forgotten about.

Well, I'm not forgotten about. Never been, and as far as I know my parents, never will be.

My father's eyes narrow at me, a slight twitch visible in his jaw. "That's exactly why you're not supposed to have it."

I fold my arms over my chest, my eyebrows rising. "Regretting having me now, are we?"

"Allie, you know that's not it. Not once did I—"

"Just let them leave already, Atlas," my mother says, tapping her hand a couple of times on my father's chest.

My father groans madly. Yes, madly. Only my father would know how to do that while still looking unbothered.

"She's back at midnight. Not a second later," my father spits out unwillingly, madness burning in his gaze as he speaks to Rhys.

"One a.m.," I veto.

"Midnight."

"Dad, do I need to remind you that I'm an adult? I can stay out until the next morning if I wanted to." Parents.

"You're a ball of cheese that'll be home at midnight."

I sigh, then give him the biggest puppy dog eyes I've ever put on my face. "12:30?"

My mother laughs, quickly putting her hand over my dad's mouth. "One's fine, Allie."

Before my father gets to veto, Rhys and I are out the door, only hearing the faint words "I swear, she was still three years old like yesterday, sweetheart!" of my father that I happily ignore.