Bare

one - camera flashes

Livia

Have you ever been through a time when you had to make a big decision and everyone stood in your way but you still did what you wanted to do? And then you fucked up and found yourself coming back, ashamed and dreading the 'I told you so' attitude?

If you have experienced that, you can definitely relate to my story.

~

Breathe Livia. Breathe.

We don't want to be dramatic. It's fine. It's going to be fine.

We say hi to some people, we eat some good food, and then we sit and read some romantic book on Wattpad or chat with the bartender in case the battery died.

Perfect plan.

As we were nearing the hotel where the ceremony was held, my hands couldn't stop shaking and I couldn't get rid of the ache in my stomach. I checked myself in my front camera.

My face was somewhat decent: some concealer hiding the permanent dark circles under my eyes, slightly unsymmetrical winged eyeliner and lip gloss polishing my lips.

I also found the time to straighten my short hair; it barely reached my breasts.

The dress was cool.

A mid-thigh beige dress made of soft silk with thin straps, its creamy sheet clinging to my body, hugging my evident hips, and its low V neck baring the outline of my cleavage.

I dial my dad's number.

Two rings.

Three rings.

"I'm here." I speak as soon as he answers.

"Change of plans, we can't get you through the back, paparazzi are crowded back there. You'll be seen either way, it's better to be at the main entrance, to not draw any suspicions."

I grit my teeth and accidentally bite my tongue.

OUCH. It fucking hurts.

"That wasn't what we agreed on."

"Well, if you can manage to make it through the roof, be my guest." He snaps, obviously stressed. "Remember Caroline is here; be polite and don't piss her off. I'm already trying to get her off my back." He adds in an exasperated tone. Huh.

I hang up, not bothering to give him an answer because Caroline was always pissed off either way. My presence only fueled it.

Caroline is his ex-wife. I am the offspring of the young woman my dad cheated on her with.

Camera flashes interrupt my trip down memory lane.

People shouting and asking questions.

The car comes to a stop.

Time for a photo shoot. I need a new picture to post on my Instagram anyway.

"Livia Wazen! Are you moving in to Toronto for good?"

"Livia why were you at the police station on July 28?"

"Some rumors say you're related to Paco Esparza's arrest, what is your comment on that?"

"What are your plans for college? Or are you gonna be working for your father?"

My flinch is beyond my control. I feel the hand of the bodyguard on my back, pushing me forward.

Keep walking. Don't give them the reaction they want.

I'm greeted with the sight of the glorious Khalid Wazen, my father. It's been a year. He hasn't changed one bit.

I always thought being tall meant a one way ticket to intimidation but Khalid, despite being short, mastered the art of intimidation: with the way he stood, the way he gazed upon you, as if he was scanning you like a computer, searching for any viruses to fix.

He was great at finding the viruses; not so good at the fixing part.

He kisses me on the cheek tenderly, making sure the photographer got it.

"Nice dress." He remarks.

"30 dollars. 80% sale." I smirk, waiting for the familiar glare to grace his features.

I move on to the next person who's already shooting daggers at me.

"Caroline. Love the style."

Her dress is the most hideous garment I've ever set my eyes on.

"Thank you. I didn't know you were coming." She narrows her eyes, emphasizing her last sentence.

"It's my sister's wedding, I wouldn't miss it."

Next to her are standing the groom's parents, the Collins. I shortcut the greetings as much as I can. They tell me I look so much like Anna, my step-sister and their soon to be daughter-in-law.

I stifle a laugh because Anna and I look absolutely nothing alike.

They probably had nothing else to say to me.

"You haven't changed one bit." A voice says, tinted with annoyance.

"Daniel, you look handsome." My lips tug in a huge smile and I engulf my older step brother in what would come off as a sentimental hug.

God, I hope fake smiling burns calories.

Then comes Roy, the charming redhead with the startling green eyes, the youngest of my step siblings. We're only ten months apart –yes my dad cheated on his wife when she was pregnant because that's the asshole he is-

I move past him with a plan to ignore him, but he stops me, grabbing my arm.

"You need to receive guests with us. Makes us seem like a united family."

Blowing him off in front of an audience wouldn't be a smart choice. I oblige.