How!!
How do I get myself into these situations?? I know my parents hate Cayden. I know Cayden hates the fact that they judge him for his bank account yet for some reason I thought it would be a great idea to bring the two together in a public place to try to reconcile the two halves of my life.
"So, Cayden, I assume you won’t be paying for our daughter's meal". My father sneered his name like it was physically painful to him. I groaned but yet again no one heard me.
This has to be one of the worst evenings of my life. If it wasn't awkward silences it was insults that they may as well have not even attempted to conceal. So now after another 5 minute burst of silence and palpable tension I couldn't take it anymore. The silence was broken by the scrape of my chair on the restraints ridiculously shiny marble flooring.
"I'm going to the toilet please try not to kill each other for just a few minutes." I announce trying not to allow my ever-growing irritation to show through.
As I make my way to the ladies I can't help but wonder why can't they at least try to get along? Sure they could at least see how much they all mean to me so making me chose would just hurt me. Are they really so self-absorbed in their own petty differences that they would rather argue than value my happiness?
I let out a small growl of irritation; if I kept thinking like this I would go insane. I need to get away now. My parents have made it very clear to me from a very young age that I am not their priority; the only reason they are here is to make sure that my relationships would not mar the family name. So how was Cayden supposed to live up to their impossible standards? Sure his family isn’t rich but I don’t care, he works hard and cares and to me that is all that matters. Of course my parents don’t see my point of view. They ignore the fact that due to his sheer effort he now has a scholarship to pretty much any university he wants and is on track to be one of the leading engineers in the world. Or the fact that for two whole years now he has been a loving, faithful boyfriend who at times has been the only thing that keeps my slender grip on sanity. They only live in the present and at the present he does not come from an influential family so he is not suitable for the heir to the Powell family. Ugh.
Ah I see the toilets and storm in now thoroughly angry, at my parents and also to a lesser extent, Cayden. I mean some of those comments were a little how shall I put it ‘improperly concealed’ though who can blame him? He has always been touchy about the money issue, no not because that is all he cares about but because he is so sweet that he wants to be able to provide for me. I tell him all the time that he has already done so much for me and all I need is for him to continue to be there for me but still by parents are not helping in my quest to convince him.
As I stand in front of the mirror in the toilet I examine my appearance for any flaws knowing that my mother would not hesitate to pick them out and make me feel unworthy of being in her presence. After only ever getting insults my whole life my eyes instantly pick out my flaws. My lower lip is unbalanced with my top, my eyes are too large for my face, my dirty blonde hair does not ‘set off my skin’ as my mother has informed me and no matter how long I spent curling my hair they still look loose and messy. Oh well
I smooth out the skirt of the ridiculous dress that I would never wear on my own. A knee length vintage coral dress that strangles my neck and has old, stiff lace that sat heavily on my chest. I’m pretty sure the dress cost more than most people earn in a week. Personally I believe in expression through clothes, you get to tell people who you are just by what you are wearing. I like to think my clothes say, ‘I am going to be my own person and if you don’t like it then you are the one missing out’. This dress, however, says ‘I am a stereotype rich brat who cares about money and labels’. Well I suppose that is why my mother approved of it in her own way of not criticizing me the moment I walked in.
I don’t agree with my parent’s beliefs, I want to be my own person, but I suppose children want to make their parents proud and never really getting any signs of approval is why I let them walk all over me. Hence the clothes.
Oh well my looks are pretty much a lost cause so I will just take the criticisms, I have for 16 years now anyways. I think to myself and contemplate which of my many flaws will be picked up on this evening as I slowly stroll out, in no hurry to get back to that table of tortures.
I have been told too many times that I need to get out of the dream world in my head, well they aren’t always pretty dreams but still I admit I can get a little over involved in my mind so my focus is not on the outside world, primarily in this case where I was walking.
This was made clear when I was torn from my thoughts with a jolt. What? What is going on?
Oh.
I appear to have walked into something.
OH!
That something appears to be a chest. A well-muscled chest that was covered in a dark blue that did nothing to conceal the mouth-watering definition. Hmmm I love dark blue and… Amilie!!! Focus! You just did humiliated yourself by walking into a male and the least you could do is try to pick up the pieces of your dignity and apologize now look the person in the eye! My over bossy conscience instructed. I did what I was told (by myself, I know I’m weird. What are you gonna do?) And reluctantly dragged my eyes up the chest, neck and face of the person I possibly just angered until they came to rest on his eyes.
My apology is stopped dead in my throat. For the third and hopefully final time today I am stunned. OH!!!!!
Well a second ago I wanted to die of embarrassment and now I wonder if that wish was granted because cheesily I wonder if I have reached heaven. This is most possibly the most beautiful human I have ever laid my eyes on.
His eyes are the color of a stormy sea with flecks of sky blue that stand out and make them distinctive. Yet as I watch they darken to a midnight black. I furrow my eyebrows there goes my imagination again. Anyway. His nose is strong and straight, the crystal clear skin flows flawlessly into high cheekbones. His jawline was so perfectly sculpted Michelangelo’s David would cry in jealously and his lips, oh his lips they made me go weak at the knees, plush and red… wait what!?!
My silent moment of wonder and awe is broken, or more like shattered by what comes out of the strangers mouth.
“Mine” He growls in a low velvety voice.
Excuse me!?!
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Ok folks
This is it, my first ever chapter!
Im a little nervous so I hope you like it:)
Please let me know what you think
Thank you for reading
Indiana48<3
YOU ARE READING
My Lost Mate
Teen FictionA mate is a werewolf's dream. This person is supposed to be "the one", your perfect match and when you meet them you can't think of anyone but them. This much is all too true for Tyler when he sees Amilie but what happens when Amilie leaves, a human...
