Possessive

Chapter 13 (Pic of Hadassah)

Question: who do you guys think Damien is? Food for thought. Picture of Hadassah, played by Teresa Palmer ----->

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My heart was crying. I laid back on my comfortable sofa that once made me feel better when I was down. Now, nothing was working. Not even the double pint of Ben & Jerry's cookie dough ice cream and an old re-run of Spongebob Square Pants.

All I could think of was that explosive kiss that Tristan and I shared. God, it ached to even think of his name. It ached to know that he will never feel the same way I feel. I love him. I was in love with Tristan Devareaux.

That kiss on his boat was magical. I mean, I was no saint. I've had my fair share of boyfriends but none of them ever made me feel the way I felt about Tristan. When he was driving me home, I made sure to sit as far away from him as possible, even if that meant I had to become a permanent fixture on his car door. Still with the amount of distance I put between us, there was some serious sexual tension brewing in the car. When he parked in front of my apartment complex, boy, I could not get out of that SUV fast enough. I didn't even tell him good night as my momma made sure my sister and I were always polite. Whoo, if she could see me now.

A knock on my door brought me out my tumultuous thoughts. I slowly got up from my sofa and made my way to my door. As soon as I opened my door, the person grabbed my arms and pulled me into a tight embrace.

"Heaven! ¡Mi hermana menor! ¿Qué pasa?"

I pushed away from the person and stared at her. My jaw dropped in shock. "Hadassah?"

My older sister smiled at me. The last time I saw my sister was at our Tía Aubrey's funeral when our father yelled at her. See, Hadassah was always a show stopper. She always had to make a grand entrance. Anyway, an hour into the funeral service, my darling sister burst through the church doors dressed in a pink wig on her head, a white fedora hat firmly planted on the wig, a blue scarf wrapped around her neck, a red t-shirt and an orange tank top to her torso, a short yellow skirt and green leggings on her legs, black platforms on her feet, a turquoise handbag on her arm and a beer in her hand. She was drunk beyond belief. Hadassah ran down the aisle screaming 'Why? Take me, Lord! Tía Aubrey was only ten years old!" Our aunt was eighty five. To say our father was mad was understatement. He looked like the cartoon characters that turn completely red in the face with steam coming out of their ears when they are angry. Long story short, my father banned my sister from seeing any of us. That was four years ago.

"Hadassah, what are you doing here?"

Hadassah still had her smile plastered on her face but I could tell something was wrong. "What, can't I come to see my baby sister?"

I folded my arms across my chest. "H, we haven't seen each other in four years. No phone calls, no letters, no emails. You disappeared off the face of the earth after Tía Aubrey's funeral."

She rolled her green eyes and huffed at me. "Fine. I got kicked out of Europe."

I narrowed my eyes at her. "For what?"

"Let's just say it involved a police car, a Frenchman, a couple chickens and a goat."

I sighed and rubbed my temples with my fingers. I looked at the exact opposite of me. No one could ever say that Hadassah and I were sisters. Hadassah looked like our mother who was American while I looked like our father who was Spanish. Hadassah had sun kissed skin and long, gorgeous blond hair. The only feature we had in common was our green eyes. My sister was five foot ten inches, three inches taller than me. Hadassah was loud. I was quiet. Hadassah was carefree. I freaked out over everything. Hadassah was crazy and enjoyed the night life. I liked staying home on Saturday nights and cuddling up on my sofa with a good book.