Nathan Kingston has been forgotten by the world. A dad that fucked off when he was young and a mother gone days at a time with work he feels alone. Especially since he goes to the most elite private school in the city on scholarship. He's falling do...
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Ivy Matthews
When we were close to touching down Nathan said that he had a shift to run to and that he'd see me tomorrow or at school when we go back on Tuesday. So after we dropped him off I thought this was the perfect opportunity to invite Dylan over so I can spill everything that happened.
To Hartley🖤: ur home right??
To Hartley🖤: yeah we come into port this morning.
To Hartley🖤: thank GOD, can u pls come over?? I need to see u
From Hartley🖤: be there in 30.
I haul all my luggage upstairs, taking the time that it takes Dylan to get here to get as much of it as unpacked as possible. I bring all my bathroom stuff into the bathroom and take my dirty clothes bag out of my suitcase, dumping all of those clothes in the hamper before I put away all the clothes I didn't end up wearing because I'm a notorious over-packer.
The doorbell rings right as I'm putting away my last pair of jeans and I bound down the steps, opening the door and pulling Dylan inside, squeezing her into a hug that she barely reciprocates.
That little reciprocation means that she loves me.
"Hey, Dylan. Are you staying for dinner?" My dad yells from the couch, knowing it's Dylan because my boyfriend is unavailable and I only have one friend.
"Depends, what are we having?" She responds, kicking off her shoes and padding further into the house.
"Gonna order some pizza, you want your regular?"
"Sounds incredible, Matthews. And yes, please, extra olives."
"Sounds good." My dad yells one last time before the TV starts playing again.
"Ew, Hartley. I can't believe you like olives." My brother buts in as he comes out from the kitchen with a Sprite in hand, likely going to join my dad on the couch.
"It's believable that you don't like them. You don't have very good taste." She shoots back.
I internally groan and throw my head back, knowing I'm going to have to encounter a round of their verbal sparring before we can go upstairs and gossip.
"Get a nice tan from the arctic weather?" Jackson questions, his eyes taking their sweet time looking her up and down.
"Get a nice burn from the California sun?" Dylan spats, crossing her arms and refusing to back down.
"I did, you like the tan?" Jackson returns with a smirk, lifting up his shirt to reveal his tanned six-pack.
Although his shirt is only up for a second before my mom walks into the room and swats at his hand, "Stop showboating."
