It's A Complicated Story

07| Chapter Seven

(Malcolm Raoult above)

Chapter 07

His lips parted into a smile as he moved a bit closer, our lips a few inches apart. I gulped audibly as his minty breath fanned my face, not daring to move any further. Every second felt like a million years as his lips came closer to mine, I smiled at the tickling sensation caused from the brushing of our lips.

"HE LIVES IN A PINEAPPLE HOUSE, WHO'S HE? SPONGEBOB SQUAREPANTS" he yelled and I crashed on the cold marble floor.

Mel...we seriously need to talk about my phone and your taste of music.

I extended my hands in search of my phone and snoozed the alarm.

You have two miss calls from DAD

Shoot...I am so dead.

"All the people who are reading this are cordially invited to the funeral of

PHOEBE HALLIDAY

Who died with a six inches heel up her ass"

Why the hell am I making a freaking funeral invitation. I shrugged off and tried to get up only to entangle my legs with the blanket and falling flat on the ground; Again.

"Bee, what are you doing on the floor?" Malcolm asked me as he came in.

"Admiring your cold marble floor, it's so cold and beautiful" I replied sarcastically.

"Yea, like my heart" he said smiling a bit and extended his hands to help me get up, which I gladly accepted.

Snore

We both chuckled as Mel snored softly.

"How can she not get up after you slammed against the floor like a fucking bulldozer?" Malcolm asked wondering.

"Looks like we have a freaking bear hibernating here" I commented.
(For those who can read Hindi swap this sentence with: "Sali, kumbkarand ki aulad, par isme iski koi galti nahi hai, nasal hi kharab hai")

"Get ready, breakfast will be served within half an hour" he said and I nodded. "Oh, and if you can please wake up Mel too" he said before leaving.

...

"Phoebe Halliday, where on earth were you last night," my old man yelled at me.

"I was at a friend's house," I said timidly.

"And you stayed there the night without bothering to ask me even once," he growled.

Like he would have agreed.

I hate it when he orders me around, it's not like he is the boss of me.

"I am almost 17 dad, I can go out own my own" I objected. Dad; this word makes me nauseous, even though he's my father, all he do is mock me when I score low, makes me feel inferior and so on...in short me and my old man never goes along.

"Dare you talk to me like this" he shouted and I sighed.

And here we go again...

My old man also has anger management issues, so you see, that's where I got my aggressive side from.

I said nothing and turned around to enter the kitchen.

"Dare you turn back at me kid, if you don't remember it is I who pay your bills" he shouted behind my back.