Brenda wanted a normal school year. Instead her mom died.
Salma needed space from her sister and terrible ex. Or else she'd lose her mind.
Delilah didn't think she'd have any more problems after moving far from her hometown. That was until she becam...
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❝When did you first fall in love?❞
❝I think, I first fell in love when I was in fifth grade with this boy who kept his glass ruler in the sunlight and made rainbows on my desk with it.❞
― Saiber, Stardust & Sheets
PLEASE VOTE*UNEDITED*
🗝DELILAH🗝
I thought I was dying when I woke up, violently taking a knife into the chest. My sister's body was hovering above mine one second, and then gone the next.
Coming out of a bad dream, I shook my mess of hair off my shoulders, sticking to my soft and sweaty skin, and let out a slow yawn. At some point, Wyatt had changed spots with Clive in the driver's seat. I didn't know when that took place. Clive was napping in the back now. Occupying the passenger's seat, I fell into a deep slumber when we got into the car. It wasn't willingly; I ingested sleeping pills the moment the car turned on.
No part of me wanted to be conscious during the dreaded drive to my hometown. The sleeping pills weren't strong enough, sadly, and I ended up waking up twenty minutes before our arrival time.
"I didn't think you'd be up by now," Wyatt remarked, stealing a look in my direction. His glasses were low on the bridge of his nose, dropping it even further down while he stared at me. My body quivered, taken over by chills with his observant gaze on me.
"I didn't know you wore glasses."
"You've never seen me in them?"
"Not until now."
"I have bad vision. It gets worse when I drive at night. Usually I wear contact, but they started to irritate me so I swapped them for my prescription glasses."
"They look good on you."
"I look like a dork."
"A cute dork," I smiled. "You should wear them more. I like them on you."
"I would've debuted them sooner if I knew you'd react like this," he smirked, flashing a dimple and making my heart soar. "You really don't think I look like bad?"
"Nothing on you could ever look bad," I complimented. "You can make anything look good."
"So...essentially, you're saying they are bad, just not on me. That's cold."
I hit his arm. "Don't put words in my mouth. Take the kind words."
"Ouch. You already hurt me enough with your backhanded compliment, I don't need your actual backhand, too. Your verbal abuse can suffice; no need to add physical."
"Oh, shut up. I didn't hit you that hard."
I had more so tapped him with my knuckles, but if any onlooker would've seen how Wyatt was acting now they would brand me the name bruiser. He winced, gripping his arm and crying out that I was too rough with him. For a split second, I swore I even heard him say 'owie.'
