She isn't fine like she pretends to be. On the contrary.
Liliana Storm Whitlock is shattered into a thousand pieces, used from the ones she loves, betrayed by the ones she loves, broken by the ones she loves.
So she lost herself.
And it all seems t...
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After making about the tenth tour of my flat, I finally find the courage to get the belongings from my car.
I can't help to dread getting my stuff all the way to my car, because the architect of the residence decided to say fuck you and not put an elevator in the building. He probably wanted to make the students miserable and he definitely succeeded. From my point of view at least.
Once I arrive in front of my building, two bags slumped over my shoulder, two other bags painfully hanging on my arms, and one big box in hand I manage to open the door. My limbs are screaming at me to stop after the first floor and after attempting to make it to the second floor, I give myself a break.
I drop a few things on the floor which makes a crashing sound resonate in the halls, and I grimace at that. Maybe I shouldn't have been so stubborn to think it would be best to make a single trip to the car and back here. That's just stupid and lazy Liliana.
I take a deep breath to give myself the courage to step up the rest of the stairs. The sound my bags make as I walk up makes me want to kill myself because it sounds like I am just moving my whole goddamn house. I also probably made the whole residence aware of my arrival because of it.
And just as this thought crosses my mind, a sound catches my attention from directly above me. I snap my head back to get a look at what could have caused it, only to meet the amused gaze of a blond guy. He is propped up against the railing of the staircase, looking down at me as if I were a foolish spectacle put on for his personal entertainment.
I keep staring bluntly back at him, tensely holding onto the bags that seem to want to drag me down into the floor with their weight. I hear the blond guy chuckle above me when one of my bags slips from my shoulder to go crashing against the floor.
Asshole.
"You like to make your life complicated ?" He speaks up for the first time, his rough voice echoing against the walls of the staircase. I frown at his comment.
"Oh, totally I enjoy dragging these bags up the stairs, half killing me on the way up. Don't you like it ?" I say sarcastically, sending him a furious look because he dares to mock me like that. I don't have a choice dumbass.
Well... technically I did have the choice to leave a few- oh shut up.
"Sure. My bad." He says in defense, bringing his hands up in the air. Then he turns away from the railing, his footsteps echoing against the stairs as he makes his way down. Once he is standing in front of me, a head taller and a wide grin spread on his lips, I can't help to stare at him.
A leather jacket is paired with a simple white shirt and some dark jeans. An outfit that screams nothing else than Bad Boy in my head. Something that tells me to run already. But I don't. Because somehow the amused glint in his eyes as they stare down at me says the opposite. Someone that wouldn't willingly break a girl's heart for the simple purpose of his own enjoyment.
