It has been a year since Annalise Montgomery lost her fifteen year old sister Lilly in the middle of a sunny day when she was waiting in a parking lot.
Annalise takes the case into her control when the police are empty handed. No leads, no traces, n...
A D O R I N G A N N A L I S E chapter twenty seven
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I always hated Sunday's. I think most people do. It's such an uncomfortable day of the week because everyone knows that the time goes so fast, and soon enough, it's Monday.
I never liked it simply because it was my least favourite name out of the days, and when I was in school it was the calm before the storm.
But now, without a stable job or school, it's just a day. And today feels better than the rest.
"Scott, come back to bed." I never have been the whining type, but I am now. He and I are complete opposites. He is an early riser, and I am not. I would sleep until midday if I could.
I hear him laugh from the kitchen area. I think he's washing the dishes from yesterday. "It's eleven o'clock, Lis." I groan loud enough for him to hear. "You should be getting out of bed, not trying to stay in it all day."
If I could, I would. I want him to turn off the lights so the darkness can bathe me. The cotton sheets on his bed are so soft that I wish I could take them home with me.
"Who cares." I huff and curl my arms under the pillow. I have been facedown since I woke and the sheets resting halfway down my back since the summer air has been warming.
I refuse to open my eyes because I know the sunlight would wake me up completely. Blondie laughs- the sound getting closer.
"Why do you even enjoy getting up so early?" I mumble the question half into the pillow. I turn so my cheek is against it to avoid my bruised head.
The bed shifts slightly with his weight sitting down beside me. I still don't bother to open my eyes. "Because that's what happens when you get older." He says it as if he's really old.
Twenty-two, nearly twenty-three is still technically young. I suppose to a high school student that it is a bit of a jump into the real world of working.
"Do you know what's really gross to think about?" I'm not even sure when this thought occurred to me, but it plagued my mind the moment I thought of it.
Scott brushes my hair off my shoulder so it falls to one side. "I think I'm too scared to know. Especially since you asked right after the comment about getting older."
I smile in thought of the time I'd teased him about wrinkles and age. "I never really considered how you are four years older than me. It didn't seem like much of a problem since I'm nineteen."
I had become so use to Scott always touching me that I feel uncomfortable without him once his hand had retracted from my hair. "And you find that gross? That you don't find it a problem?"
"No, no." Even though he had released an airy laugh, I had worded everything so wrong. "I don't care that you're older. I meant that since I'm an adult it doesn't matter, but to put it in perspective- the year I celebrated my sixteenth birthday, you were celebrating your twentieth birthday. When I was fourteen, you were eighteen."
