Muriel has had her life sculpted and figured out by her well-renowned defense attorney father since she was a child. His Moto: Head down, do your schoolwork, be the best, and always do the right thing.
But what happens when she catches her father wi...
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I am not taking my clothes off. That is madness.
"Crack on, Murry, before I decide to lock your arse outside!" Ollie calls over his sculpted shoulder while he hangs his dripping clothes from the rail of the landing.
He would lock me out here. So I don't waste another minute before I join him on the landing, fully clothed, and attempt to ring the water from my shirt and hair.
Ollie takes a glance and smirks with a head shake unaproving my choice to keep my clothes on.
We step inside and walk in silence only interrupted by our glimpses and smirks until we reach our separate bedrooms.
Inside I undress quickly and hop into the warm shower to finish up. I dress in my pajamas, soft cotton flutter shorts with a matching button-up shirt then fix my glasses to my face as I search for Jane's number in my contact list.
I select her name and check to be sure my bedroom door is closed completely then press the call button.
"Mur, so happy to hear from you, Dear. Did you arrive safely?"
"Yea...Jane, did you know Oliver was going to be here?"
"Oh," She chuckles for a moment, "I was certain the manor was going to be empty this weekend, my goodness, I'm sorry Darling."
She is so full of garbage its not even funny.
"Uh huh." I say not believing her for a second.
"You two must have so much to catch up on. So many wonderful memories in that house, this is the perfect time to add more."
This is actually not the time I wish to add Ollie into my life. Especially now, when he will just...complicate things.
"...alright, Jane. Well, thank you for letting me stay here. I'll be back on Monday."
"Okay, Mur. I love you, tell my boy his mummy says 'hello'."
I drop the phone disconnecting with a loud moan and rest my forehead in my hands sitting cross-legged on the bed becoming overwhelmed with everything.
Might as well get this over with while I'm in a bad mood.
I grab my phone again and tap the Instagram app, then open up my notifications...
An hour later, my glasses are fogged up and my eyes sting from fighting the urge to cry at some of the awful things I've read.
The majority of the comments were nice, but sprinkled in were some really nasty things.
A lot of Ginger comments, a lot of comments about the 'planet' sized space between my eyes. And somehow the internet sleuths have found out I'm recently single, I do humanitarian work, and I'm a student at NYU.
Well...was a student...
My finger hovers over the delete button on the app but then there's a swift knock at my door.
