I heard a phone going off like crazy and when I cracked my eye open the bedside clock said it was almost noon, when I looked at my phone I noticed it wasn’t lighting up but Abby’s phone was. I quickly groaned before flipping over to face the girl who is to blame for all the ruckus going on. I began shaking her softly so I didn’t wake her up in a rude manner but the girl didn’t budge.
“Abby, your phone is ringing will you answer it please,” I said into her ear but all I got in response was a groan and her pushing me away.
“Love, please answer your phone!” I said and all Abby did was bury herself further into the duvet. “Abby answer your telly!” I yelled this time and she slapped her hand over my mouth and held it there firmly. I decided to lick her hand and she pulled it away as she groaned.
“Fine, since you don’t want to answer it then I will,” I told her as I slid the phone off the table and answered it.
“Abby’s phone, this is Harry how might I be of assistance?” I tiredly said into the phone.
“Excuse me?” A man on the other end said and I got confused the only man that ever called Abby was her granddad.
“Uh may I ask who is calling?” I said after looking at the screen to see it was an unknown number.
“This is Phillip Grimes, Abby’s father, who is this?” The man, Phillip said. When I realized he said he was Abby’s father my mouth fell open.
“Uhm, this is Harry, Harry Styles. I’m friends with Abby,” I told him, mentally slapping myself for looking stupid because why am I answering his daughter’s phone if we’re just friends.
“Where is Abigail?”
“Sleeping, I tried waking her up but she didn’t budge,” I told him again slapping myself mentally for basically giving away we were in bed together.
“Typical Abigail. Tell her it’s her father and I wish to speak to her immediately,” he sternly said. I pressed my hand over the speaker so he wouldn’t hear me talking to Abby.
“Darling it’s your father, wake up. He wants to speak with you,” I told her and her head snapped up from under the duvet with confusion written all over her face.
“It’s WHO?” She asked in shock.
“Phillip Grimes? He says he’s your father?” I told her while looking down at the phone. She quickly grabbed the phone out of my hand and put it on speaker.
“Hello?” She hesitantly said.
“Abigail? It’s your father,” Mr. Grimes said as Abby answered.
“Dad, what do you want?”
“Well we haven’t spoken to you in 3 years since you left Stanford so I wanted to check up on you,” he said and it almost sounded like he was hurt.
“How’d you get my number?” She asked, anger growing in her voice.
“Your grandmother gave it to me.”
“What makes you think it’s okay to call me after not saying a word to me in three years dad? Especially to just ‘check up on me’ are you mental? If you wanted to see how I was doing you would have called me sooner. I’m afraid you’re three years too late,” Abby angrily said into the phone, I rubbed her back soothingly letting her know I was here for her.
“Abigail your mother and I miss you, we made a mistake can’t you forgive us?” Her dad pleaded and I almost felt sorry for the man.
“No I cannot. You and mom were the reason for my depression back in San Diego. You set a map for where my life would go and you didn’t let me pick my own route. You two drove me away and now you need to continue to pay for it. You two are the reason I was never happy in California or Ohio, and I’m happy now so just leave me be.”
