One Kiss Left

Chapter 7

Valentinas pov

Once I got home from practice, I was so drained that I ended up taking a 30-minute nap, until my mom woke up saying that we had to go to her boss's house.

I instantly woke up, and that's what I am currently doing. Picking out an outfit is difficult to do when you have the same outfits over and over. I had more clothes, but I left all of those back in Mexico.

I scrimmage through my closet trying to find a good outfit to wear to impress my mom's boss. Not an impression of looks, but an impression of sophistication. Although I don't have any formal clothes in my closet, I end up picking a leather skirt with a zipper in the middle, and a light pink silk crop top. For my shoes I ended up going with black heels, I didn't feel like wearing anything else.

For my look, it was simple. I had my hair down which was wavy from the braids I had on, and 2 braids on my hair from the 2 strands of my hair. My makeup was simple with my mascara done and eyeliner following after. I did have foundation and concealer on, but not as much.

After finishing my look, I made my way downstairs going to my mom's room.

I walk inside her room and see her dressed in a black pencil skirt, with a red top and black heels. Damn, she looks good.

"Wow, que bonita." (So pretty) I say complimenting her, causing her to smile.

"Tu también." (You too) My mom says, looking at me from what she created.

"So who's this boss of yours and why did she invite you to her place?" I question curiously, picking my purse up and inserting my pepper spray in for caution.

"Her name is Martha Martinez, she's the CEO of the company I'm working at which is BEX. It's a fashion company." She specifies, picking up her purse and slinging it on her arm.

"A fashion company?!?! Is she like... a fashion designer?" I ask in shock. How the hell did my mom get this job?!?

"No, but some of her main employees are, I just do paperwork and stuff." She says, looking at herself through her mirror.

My mom is 32 years old but looks in her 20's. She had me when she was 15 years old with my dad who was 21 at the time. Yes, it's a big age gap, but they were in love and I guess that's all that matters.

When my dad and mom had me after my brother who's only a year older than me, they didn't want any more kids. Ultimately, they wanted another one, but then my dad died so it never got to that point.

"Are you ready? We have to go already." My mom asks, brushing over her hair one last time and then grabbing her car keys.

"Si, vamos." (Yes, let's go.) I say, walking out the door and into the car, as I wait for her to lock the house door.

"Do you want me to get you a car?" My mom asks randomly, turning the key to the ignition and reversing out of the driveway.

I thought about it, and do I even want a car? I mean, it would save me time from my mom taking me everywhere, and Gina as well, but my anxiety is the reason I hate driving. Why can't I drive without having anxiety? Especially with the big trailer trucks, that shit gives me so much anxiety.

"Yeah," I say with hesitation in my voice. I swear that I want one, so I can drive to Starbucks and go to the stores whenever I want.

"Okay well, tomorrow after school I'll take you to pick one out. Now don't think I can't afford it, because I can, therefore you deserve it okay?" My mom smiles.

I love my mom so much.

"Are you sure though, I don't want to—"

"Cállate, te voy a comprar uno okay? No hagas preguntas." (Shut up, I'm going to buy you one, don't ask questions.) She cuts me off, turning sharply to a street filled with mansions.