Chapter Twenty: What Is This, A Mexican Soap Opera?!

395 15 26
                                    

A/N: Ooo the dramaaaaaa 😉

Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.

A/N: Ooo the dramaaaaaa 😉

_______________________________________

Mel's Bedroom:

The full moon was up high as I laid against my head board. The TV's volume was low enough to still hear 'The Outsiders' playing in the background but also be reading 'Priest' by Sierra Simone. Ponyboy was one of my favorite characters along with Dallas. I always had a soft spot for the bad boys.

Bucky still hadn't come back from the meeting. It was late but a small part of me hoped he would stop by for a while. Just to talk. Maybe find out how long he would be gone for this mission. I think I had gotten used to having him around all the time because the thought of not seeing him for more than twenty-four hours made my stomach queasy. I was in big trouble. The amount of dependency I felt, almost made me want to run for the hills.

"On the altar ... holy shit," I mumbled to myself.

I wasn't catholic or in anyway religious but reading this book made me think that I needed to start going to confessionals. Father Bell can get it any day of the week.

A soft knock startled me out of my thoughts on the hot priest fucking a woman on the altar while using sacrificial oils. The knob twisted as my smile grew and deflated just as fast.

"Oh, hey Wanda," I tried to replaced the pout that wanted to peek through.

"Expecting someone else?" she gave a sly smile.

My face fell, no longer wanting to talk to her. I liked Wanda, but most of our interactions were strange. Her knowing everything in my head was annoying. It was hard to have a conversation with her, but I tried. I think it was hard for her too, to deal with her powers.

"Not particularly. What's up?"

She walked forwards, her feet gliding underneath her, and sat on the edge of my bed, facing me. She crossed her arms, defiantly.

"When are you going to tell the others about you and Bucky, and don't even try to deny it."

Busted.

"Wanda, do I pry into your personal life?"

Her lips tightened into a tight line. "No ..."

I set my book down on my night stand harshly, a loud slam echoed throughout the room. "No, I don't. I don't ask about your relationship with the robot so can we just leave it alone?"

She scooted onto my bed more, sitting crisscross-apple sauce.

"Nope. You wanna know why?"

I wasn't going to like this one bit. "Enlighten me, will you? I don't feel like playing guessing games."

She placed her hands on the bed, dipping the comforter into the mattress. "He doesn't know yet, does he?"

I rolled my eyes.

Dirty Little OliveWhere stories live. Discover now