Nico Vaughan, the junior class "Nice Girl" wants to be free from her abusive and obsessive ex-boyfriend.
Valen Henford, the school's resident "Rich Guy meets Bad Boy" wants to spend his senior year with the girl he's been in love with for years.
W...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"We both drowned under the waves of words we weren't saying" (Ben Maxfield).
|◁ II ▷|
My bag hits the floor right when I walk into the house, but a certain chiding sound from my mom makes me pick it back up with a responding, disgruntled noise. I set it on the steps, instead, which earns me a sigh.
I walk into the kitchen and grab a water from the fridge. Football practice was especially hard today.
"How was your day, baby?" Mom questions me, closing her computer.
"Good," I respond.
I sit beside her at the island in the kitchen. "Um, Mom?"
"Yes, baby?" She smiles, her hand finding mine on the table.
"Um, Nico needs some earrings for the gala," I inform her, and her smile droops slightly. "Do you have any she could borrow? She wanted silver."
Mom nods and gets up. I follow her across the house to my parents' bedroom. We go into their walk-in closet, and she pulls a box from a drawer. Still quiet, she sifts through the jewelry in the box, and part of me feels guilty.
The other part is too angry to care.
Mom silently hands me a beautiful pair of silver earrings that are long and skinny. I carefully walk them over to my bag by the stairs, placing them in the pocket with my school airpods and trying to write a mental note to grab them when Nico comes over.
Dad enters the living room from his office. "Hey, Valen. How was school today?"
"Good," I mumble.
I catch a glance between my parents.
Good. At least they're self-aware.
"Uh, Nico's coming over tonight," I offhandedly inform them.
They haven't been around enough to tell me she can't. And the house is big enough that they won't even have to see her.
"Why don't we talk?" Dad nods at me. "Couch?"
I decide to comply, and I sit on the comfiest couch first. My parents sit on the one opposite me, and they share a look and talk without words.
"You haven't told us much about this girl," Mom timidly starts. "What's she like? Is she sweet? What does she like?"
I let my gaze hover on each of them for a moment, trying to figure out what they're doing. "She's sweet. And she likes classic rock and stuff. And she likes books."
