#1 in Young Adult
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#1 in Cold
#3 in Goodgirl
#1 in Sweetheart
#14 in Love
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He'd never met someone with such a bubbly personality. Not to mention the wildness and odd phrases she'd say every five minutes...
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❀Azalea❀
I stare at my ugly busted bottom lip in the mirror.
I guess I was dumb to think he wouldn't actually go as far as elbowing me. Although he tried his best to convince me it was an accident, I knew deep in my heart that an elbow doesn't just fly up at someone by chance.
I got his alcohol. Apparently, it was too late for him though.
My mother didn't stop it. She sat on the couch and watched as his elbow hit me across my face.
It's not like I can hide it with makeup either.
Not only does my top lip have a small cut on it from last night at the bar, but the bottom lip does too. Although it's quite a bit worse.
I let out a quiet sigh.
I grab my phone and my car keys that my father kindly threw at me after busting my bottom lip.
I turn my light off and open my bedroom door. I close it behind me and stop when I hear someone to the left of me.
I turn my head and there stands my father, still in his clothes from last night. I gulp and send a quick prayer up to God.
I guess he's too hungover to go to work today.
He can't still be drunk right? I hope to God he's not.
"Why so frightened?" his worn out voice reaches my ears and I still can't tell if he's drunk or not.
Why such a piece of donkey crap?
I ignore him, wanting to get out of this place as soon as possible. I dart down the stairs and don't stop.
Once I've finally made it outside, I lean up against my car, bending down to rub my slightly throbbing knee.
I suck it up and make my way to the bookstore. Only two hours later than usual.
"Are you under the weather, Azalea?" Mr. Terrip asks first thing as soon as I enter.
"No," I reply, "Why? Do I look it? You can just tell me if I look ugly or not, you don't have to be nice."
"If you were ugly I wouldn't allow you to spend all your time in this store," he places his skinny hand on my forehead, "you would scare away all my customers."
"How darling of you to say," I wrap my arms around his frame, relishing in the feeling of his grandfatherly warmth.
We pull away and he picks up his glasses from his desk, sitting them on the end of his nose. He squints his eyes before grabbing my face ever so gently and tilting it up so that he can see it through his bifocals.
