Wrong //Zauren

32

A/n
I haven't updated in sooooo long. Please forgive me! I made this chapter a little longer than usual. Love you lots!

Lauren

If I could go back to 16, I would. Naive was one words to describe my 16 year old self. Or dumb. That's a good one. What the hell was wrong with me? How could I have been so stupid to think that he actually cared about me? Did he care about me? Hell, I still don't know. All he wanted was sex. No, he didn't. Yes, he did. What the fuck is wrong with me?

"Lauren, you ok?" Irene's voice snaps me out of a nearing anxiety attack.

The ash at the end of my cigarette falls to the porch steps. She takes a seat next to me and caresses my arm.

"I'm fine." I shrug her hand off of me. The only time I let her touch me is when she's getting me off.

"You might wanna get rid of that. My dad hates smokers."

Frustrated, I take one last drag of the cigarette before I flick it into one of the bushes beside the porch. Irene scoffs and I shrug my apology.

"Why are you sitting out here?"

"I was just thinking."

"About?"

I glance at her out of the corner of my eye. She's worried. I hate when she worries for me.

"Nothing that concerns you." The words come out harsher than I thought they'd be.

"Sorry, you've just been so distant lately. Did I do something?"

Other than invade my personal space? No.

I turn to look at her with a sigh. "Irene, there's nothing wrong. You didn't do anything."

Irene looks away. I swear, she gets so sensitive all the time. The last thing I want is to spend the rest of this week on bad terms so I apologize.

"I'm sorry. My time of the month is around the corner and you know how I get," I force a grin.

I tuck a piece of her red haired behind her ear and the wind blows it in her face again.

"Oh, sorry. Do you want me to leave you alone for awhile?"

Yes.

"No, you can stay."

"It's getting cold. My dad has a movie room in the basement. You wanna go watch something?"

No.

"Sure."

The movie was boring, the popcorn was too salty and Irene kept trying to put her hand in my pants. At least the leather recliners were comfortable. The afternoon rolls around, and I find myself wandering through the house while Irene is showering. It's quiet.
I stroll down the hall to Zayn's bedroom and it's empty. Then, I check Ivy's. Empty.

I walk down the steps in search of someone. The kitchen is empty. I come across a door and I reluctantly open it. I quickly learn that it's the garage door. Mr. Parker doesn't notice me at first as he wipes his greased covered hands with a rag while looking under the hood of one of his many cars. He's shirtless. For an older man, he does have a nice figure.

"Have you seen Zayn?"

The man quickly turns around to look at me as if I startled him. He's got a couple grease spots on his face.