She hated them.
They loved her with everything in them.
The universe truly has a sick way of telling you it's there, doesn't it? From being kidnapped to being abused, that was all Arabella saw in life. It was all she ever knew. They tell you to ke...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"So what happened to no boys?" Jordan crosses his arms, looking down at me as if to remind me that I'm shorter than him, as if he's the one in charge. Support the short community.
"What?" I ask, confused.
"Are we just going to ignore the fact that you were sitting and talking to two boys? Do I need to beat anyone up?" Jordan pretends to get into a fighting stance.
"Man, I was just putting them in their place. Rude-ass customers who are definitely spoiled as hell," I groan, frustrated by Jordan's antics. Of course, he'd do this when I'm about to leave.
"I guess you can hold your own. If I ever need to beat them up, sign me up," he says, half-seriously.
"I'm exhausted. Honestly, I just want to leave and spend some time with my true love—Netflix." Yes, Netflix is my true love. There's something comforting about being entertained without needing to talk to anyone. It suits my mood, obviously.
Currently, I'm rewatching Never Have I Ever. The show isn't bad. Devi acts like a bitch, and honestly, I sometimes want to throw her off a bridge. But Nalini makes up for it—only those with taste can appreciate her acting. Paxton's good-looking, though, you can't deny it. But no one surpasses Tom Holland. God damn. I wouldn't mind getting behind that. And don't even get me started on his British accent. Too bad I'm not there yet. A girl can dream.
"Or at least try not to get on Lilith's bad side again," I mutter to myself, but Jordan hears me and cringes at the mention of her name.
"Why don't you sleep over?" he suggests.
"I have a fight today. Honestly, I don't need Lilith coming to your house at 2 in the morning looking for me."
"I wish I could come to your fight, but I have a shift till midnight."
"That sucks. I'll pray for you as I visit the devil's house. Can't be late again." Before he can respond, I'm already jogging out the door. I hop on my motorcycle and speed home. My heart pounds in my chest. Instead of praying for Jordan, I'm praying I'm not late.
I park a few blocks away from Lilith's house, grab my bag, and run to the door. I glance at my watch—shit. I'm two minutes late.
I try to open the door quietly, but of course, it creaks loudly, making it obvious that I'm home. Nothing happens, though. I walk upstairs to my room, and the only sound I hear is the pounding of my own heartbeat. Is she not home? She's always here to make sure I'm not late.
I think too soon. Before I can even sigh, entering my room, a sharp sting erupts across my cheek.
When you come home, normally you'd expect a hug, a kiss, or at least a polite smile. Not me. Instead, the slap burns through my skin like iron, and I have to suppress the groan that almost escapes me.
"You're late! Who were you screwing this time?" Her voice is venomous.
"I was at work. You know, like you should be," I snap back, feeling a surge of anger.
