Alayna moans desperately, gripping my shoulder blades as I slowly guide myself inside of her. We're both gasping into each other's mouths, and my hands are in her hair as I push a little deeper into her. Alayna's eyes flutter to a close and her head...
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We finally made it to Dawson's house. I stood back as he unlocked the door, and stepped inside. "Thank you for walking me." He says, quietly. His gaze stays fixated to the ground. I grin up at him.
"It's no problem." I say. "At least you didn't get hurt."
Dawson finally looks up, smiling at me. "Do you wanna... come in?"
"No- no, I've gotta get home. My dad got back from Spain this morning, so we're going for dinner." I tell him, crossing my arms over my chest. "But... I'll see you tomorrow."
Dawson shakes his head, his wavy, blonde hair falling into his eyes. "No- no, this can't happen again." He says, just as a series of shouts escape from his house. Both of our heads snap to behind him. Dawson's eyes widen and he runs a hand through his hair before looking back to me. "Never again, okay?"
"Dawson-"
"I've got to go." He says, moving to close the door.
"Wait-" The door closes before I can get another word in, and the lock clicks in place as I take a step back. "Fucks sake." I mumble under my breath, turning around. I crossed my arms over my chest to suppress the warmth and began my walk home.
My dad has been in Spain, visiting his family for a few weeks. Though most of his siblings are in England, his parents and some of his uncles are still in Spain, so he likes to visit them often.
By the time I get home, I see the multiple cars in the driveway, belonging to relatives coming to greet my father. In need of my bed and some much deserved sleep, I walk into my house and just as I'm about to run up the stairs and into my bed for the rest of the day, my mother turns around the corner and calls me over. I internally groan and walk over to where she was standing near the door.
"Have you met the guests?" She asks, gesturing to the living room.
"I was going to." I lie, grinning up at her. She raises her eyebrow, crossing her arms over her chest.
"Kaddaab." She says, jokingly, shaking her head. "Okay, go inside. Meet them." Just as she turns around, she remembers something and looks back at me. "Oh, and your dad wanted to speak to you about something."
"About what?" I ask her, dropping my backpack onto the stairs. I use the elastic around my wrist to tie up my hair and move it out of my face.
"I don't know, he didn't tell me. Just go meet him." She answers, before turning around and walking back into the kitchen. I slip off my boots, and put on my flippers, instead. Then, I make my way inside.
Dad sits on the far sofa, engrossed into a conversation with his sisters. I go around the room, shaking hands with my relatives until my dad notices I'm here.
When he does, he's instantly onto his feet, engulfing me into a hug. I laugh and bury my face into his chest. God, I missed my dad so much.
"Awh, abnati alhulwa." He mumbled, kissing the top of my head. My dad was born in Egypt to Spanish parents, so he knows the language fluently. Even though he moved to Spain as a teenager, he regularly came home on holidays and that's how he met my mum.
