Pure Belleza | ✔️

(12)

Abby had a similar room to Max and I. She had her own set of french doors that opened onto her private patio.

She'd done a lot more with that space than I had. Outdoor fairy lights wrapped around the steel railing, an outdoor two seater sofa was crammed into the left side while a few box plants with faux flowers in them sat on the other side.

The side of the house had a couple of metal garden art pieces surrounding her door frame.

She'd almost died putting those up last summer. She stood on the railing, leaning out with a fucking nail and hammer and she'd fallen off.

Forward thinking meant I was watching from the ground below and I caught her before she turned into a bag of broken bones on the drive way.

When I opened her bedroom door— after knocking of course. I'm not in the business of being greeted with a shoe to the face— I slipped inside and could see her legs on the patio outside.

Her bedroom wasn't girlish as in it was covered in pinks and purples. But it was feminine. She had about three boards worth of photos hanging above her bed which was never made.

The white spread sat in a pile on top of her mattress and her white furniture suite in the corner of the room was covered in products and different perfumes.

She had the biggest closet and the doors were made of mirror. She was notorious for hiding in their during a bitch fit. She could lock it from the inside and as she liked to tell us, her clothes calmed her. Dad said she was just like Mom.

I crossed the room and went outside, leaning against the railing. She was slouched on the sofa in a pair of sweats and a t-shirt. She held her phone in front of her face with her brows furrowed. "What's up?" She mumbled, seeming uninterested.

I stood there for a moment and waited for her to remember I'd knifed her boyfriend's wheel last night.

But she didn't. She continued tapping her phone screen. Her bluetooth speaker sat in the corner of the patio and some sad ass shit was humming.

When it seemed as though she wasn't going to throw a fit, I figured I would prompt her a little.

"How was your night?"

"It was fine," she nodded, still not looking up. "Your's?"

What the hell?

"Uh— Yeah it was good. Amalia slept over," I bit on my lip when I remembered our first kiss. I was hanging out for more of that. "Dad was a dick in front of her this morning. Of course. But it was fine. She came with me and I got this tattoo."

She finally peered up when I pulled down the neck of my t-shirt and revealed the fresh tattoo that was shadowed with a soft red and raised skin.

She tilted her head to the side and a small smile lifted the corners of her mouth as she read her name on one of the footballs.

It was then I noticed the whites of her eyes were a little more red than usual. It wasn't uncommon for them to become bloodshot after drinking, but there was an overall swell around the top half of her face.

"That's really cool, Luc," she smiled and looked at her phone again. "Tyler did a good job."

"It was Pete," I mumbled distractedly as I readjusted my shirt. "You good, Abs?"

She nodded but wouldn't look at me. The fact that she wouldn't shout at me about Tanner's wheel was concerning on its own.

But there was something off. She seemed too calm. It wasn't that she was always on a warpath to start arguments. She could be pleasant to be around if I wasn't bothering her about her love life.