Unforgettable

Chapter 29

Celine Pov

Streams of light flowed through the window, stretching into his room, slightly glowing against my body. My temples lightly ached, my throat a bit dry, but nothing could destroy the absolute bolt of energy that shot through me once memories from last night returned. I picked myself up, moving the covers away, leaning against the headboard as I noticed the marks left on my inner thighs. My fingers brushed against them as I shivered, remembering his mouth on me, giving me exactly what I'd fantasized about.

I looked around his room, noticing Noah was absent, and decided to look for him. I quickly grabbed a pair of sweatpants before making my way down his stairs, the perfect wooden floor cold against my bare feet. I nearly slipped down the waxy steps, but luckily reached the living room. I saw Hyeong and Noah talking, oblivious to my presence.

"We're just friends, Dad. All we did was sleep, nothing else," Noah seemed a bit irritated, the muscles in his back tensed.

"Morning," I rubbed my eyes, trying to clear my vision as Noah turned around, his sexy face coming into view.

I felt his eyes roam my body, a smirk appearing as he noticed the sweatpants, "Morning."

"Hey, Hyeong," His dad was staring at Noah with a suspicious look, thinking deeply about something.

...

I made it out of Noah's house, my feet slapping the pavement of my driveway as I made my way to my front door. My dad's car was parked obnoxiously close to my bike, something I'd have to bring up later.

I noticed the door was wide open, a woman waiting in the doorway. Mom. I immediately straightened my spine, ready for the verbal rage coming my way. She looked me up and down, clicked her tongue, and walked back inside quietly. I'm so fucked.

When Sophia Dubois-Allaire gets quiet, you know you're dead. She has three levels; first being screamed at, maybe a couple of things thrown at you but for the most part just being ridiculed. Second, passive aggressiveness. She'd make the next few days a living hell, forcing you to question all your choices, making you feel less than until she chooses to forgive you. Third is the worst. She stays silent, waiting for the right moment to pass. The third level is one I always try to avoid, it gets violent quickly, especially if Dad isn't home.

I begrudgingly entered, closing the heavy door behind me, fear creeping into my soul. I found my dad sitting on his chair, legs crossed reading his favorite novel.

"Dad?" His head shot up, eyes wide as he stared at me.

"C!" He ran to me, capturing me in a tight hug.
The last time he hugged me I was 9, the feeling quickly became odd, "Welcome home," I patted his back, trying to get him to release me.

Pulling away he said, "Noah told me mainly what happened, can you tell me the rest?"

Before I could respond, I heard my mom scoff in the background. I caught her rolling her eyes before walking away, tossing her golden locks over her shoulders.

"Sure," I spent a few minutes retelling last night's events, leaving out the moments with Noah.

Throughout the explanation, my mom lurked in the kitchen, scoffing now and again. My voice would waver, anxiety settling in my bones as she poured a glass of whiskey. Dad listened intently, ignorant of his wife's oncoming assault.

"That's all," I was in a whisper now, hoping my mother would spare me.

"Noah said you slept in his room.." He trailed off, ensuring my death.