Life After You (Best Friends, With Benefits Book 2)

17 Years Later...

~Farrah~

Beep. Beep. Beep.

I internally groaned, my hand searching blindly for my phone because I refused to open my eyes. I grasped my phone, taking a peek at it through one half-opened eye as I found the dismiss button to shut off the God awful wail of the alarm.

"Farrah, are you awake?" I heard my father, Flynn, shout up the stairs.

"Unfortunately, that answer is a yes," I yelled back, getting a chuckle out of him. I sighed, flipping my feather-down, zebra-print blanket off my body and hopping off my queen-sized bed. I growled at the chill in the air, the scowl on my face still there as I entered my private bathroom.

I audibly gasped in horror; my mane of curly, brown locks were tossed into a frizzy mess as not one was going the same way as the other. I plugged in my straightener in an instant, heating it up to the highest temperature. Grabbing for my brush, I tried brushing through the knots, a list of curses escaping my lips when I hit rather tender spots.

Eventually, all the tangles were out and I could finally get to straightening my hair. Once my hair was paper-straight, I put on my make-up, starting with my foundation and a little blush. Once that was on I put on dark blue eye shadow to make my big, blue-green eyes pop along with mascara and eyeliner. I finished it off with light pink shimmer on my plump, dark pink lips and smiled at myself in the mirror.

My dad reminded me every day that I look just like my mom. He said I had her hair and facial structure, but I had his sense of reasoning and the blue of his eyes.

I walked out of my bathroom and pondered over the clothes in my closet. I contently settled on a black Coldplay band T-shirt, dark blue skinny jeans and my black vans.

"Morning, Dad," I said to my father after I had descended down the stairs and found him in the kitchen.

"Morning, Fair, did you sleep well?" he asked me as I plopped down on a bar stool to eat an orange.

"As well as I could. The damn dog next door wouldn't shut the hell up last night," I said, sighing angrily.

Dad gave me a stern look, "Language. But I tried telling Mrs. Lark to put that little shit away at night and she never listens."

It was my turn to give him the stern look, "Language!"

He chuckled.

"Maybe I should just unlock their gate at night when I know she's asleep and let that little rat run away. Maybe then I would actually get a decent night of sleep," I said after a minute, a devious smirk forming on my lips.

"Farrah," Dad said, raising his eyebrow.

I sighed, "Alright I won't, jeez."

He smiled at the same time a horn honked outside.

"I guess that's your ride," he said, giving me a hug.

"Bye, Dad. I love you," I said over my shoulder, opening the front door.

"I love you too, Fair. Have a good day."

I walked out the door, a genuine smile finding its way on my face. I dropped my bag on the ground and ran towards the person leaning with their hands in their pockets against their 1972 Chevy Chevelle SS Coupe, the dark orange color sparkling in the early morning sun.

"Morning, Beautiful," Parker whispered into my ear as he had me wrapped in a tight hug.

"Morning, Parky," I said, making him groan with agitation, my smile growing even wider; he hates when I call him that.