cinnamon ♡ lh [discontinued]

5: the expected disappointment

INLINE COMMENT THIS CHAPTER BC THAT'S WHAT MOTIVATES ME THE MOST AND I NEED HELLA LOT MOTIVATION TO UPDATE TOMORROW AS SCHEDULED

whooop i'm jamming to top now

edited: 2/07/17

5: the expected disappointment

Being an only child has it's positives and negatives. I mean, when you're on your own, you don't have shitty children stealing your attention at your own home but you also have no one to play with or to help you out when you need it (parents don't count; they never really understand).

And the positives are usually way over the negatives. Usually.

This doesn't apply to my sister Georgia, who, coincidently, happens to be the devil in a human body. When I was 8 and she was 6, she stole my painting I made for Arts class and brought it there herself, gaining the title of the school artist. And I, being the older and supposed-to-be-more-jealous sister, was not listened to when I said it was my work.

'Let your sister be, Luna. She has a huge talent. Don't be jealous.'

And it's been this way since she first spoke when she was 2 and I was 4. This, my people, is the situation that took place just yesterday.

♡♡♡

I run out of the house, knowing I'm already really, really late (a.k.a. I had four damn minutes left to get my ass to school) and hop on my bike. I go faster than ever before, yet not fast enough and by the second turn I slow down, already knowing I'm gonna be hella late.

I take my time from now on, enjoying the indian summer around me and watching the city I have lived in for 17 years now. Beautiful landscapes by my side distract me so much I nearly hit a person on my way.

I qucikly turn and squeal as I realise I'm about to fall. And I do. The scratches on my hands and knees are quite nasty (why, for the love of God, did I put on a skirt today?!) and my head is pounding even though I haven't hit it.

And even now all I can think about is that the exact same thing happened when I was 10 and Luke almost hit me with his bike. What a coincidence.

"Oh my God, are you alright? Shit, your arm has a deep cut," I freak out before the person even gets to touch me.

"What do you mean 'cut'? Fuck no!"

I turn to look at my left forearm and see blood running out of a nasty wound. This is when I finally start to feel it. The pain.

"Fucking hell it hurts so bad," I cry and the person tries to keep me from touching the hurt arm.

"Stop, you need to stop!"

I look up at them and almost faint. It's a boy. A very pretty boy. I'm in his arms and almost killed him with my bike.

Okay, I may be over-exaggerating with the fainting part but, fuck, he indeed has one nice of a human body.

"I'm going to help you, okay?" he says when I finally stop frantically touching my arm, trying to somehow stop it from bleeding (but also letting bacteria in and that is not good). He's now trying to find something to stop the blood with.

"And who do you think you are?" I ask, not really trusting the guy.

He is like 6'1" with perfect brown hair and a tiny nose and skin so flawless you couldn't find a trace of acne. That is at least weird. I'd say creepy but hey, you can't blame me. The guy is a walking tumblr goal.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, I forgot about all the things they taught us on first aid," he explains, "I should have introduced myself first. I'm Tristan Hudson. What's your name, crazy bike rider?" he laughs and I sigh. I notice he's been working on my cut with tissues he took out of his backpack through the time he spoke.