Carter Grant. A soccer player, and more importantly, just a player. Why fall in love again, when he can just screw other girls over? Though, Carter isn't that big of an ass. Even though one girl might disagree.
Nova Chetti. Marketing major, and dil...
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This shirt is too tight.
I decided to wear some fancy dress shirt and it feels like it's about to burst.
Senior year of high school is when I decided to purchase this shirt, so you'd think it would still fit. Apparently my boobs still managed to grow in that time period between then and now.
Blessing or curse?
Anyway, I have a sweater on top but instead of thinking about Carter and his parents, I'm thinking about my shirt.
And the fact I have marks up and down my body, mainly on my chest, because of Carter.
We've been sat down for a minute and I'd be lying if I said I'm enjoying it.
It's not bad as in Carter's parents are evil.
Just bad like the tension is so thick you couldn't even slice it with a knife.
I didn't even ask Carter when the last time he saw his parents was.
For all I know it could have been senior graduation.
Holy shit.
It must have been then.
Maybe?
I am lost.
"So, soccer-" Carter's mom starts and then stops abruptly.
I've never seen either one of Carter's parents at a single one of Carter's games.
Maybe that's why she stopped speaking.
"Soccer." Carter claps his hands together and makes a sound that shows just how much he doesn't want to be here.
"Yeah you guys still doing good?" Carter's dad gives it a try and Carter scoffs.
"Maybe you'd know if you ever came to one of my games." I'm not going to sit here and call Carter cold, or rude, or disrespectful.
If I was Carter I wouldn't have even shown up.
I would have told them I was coming and then stayed in my hotel room with Carter in my arms.
"Don't speak to your fa-"
"My what Lauren?" His mom looks taken aback.
Carter on the other hand looks completely unfazed by it all.
"Can we all just have a nice civilised meal Carter?" Carter's dad brushes off his comment and I keep my face straight.
Carter is handling this all well. I'm actually quite proud of him.
I want to smile to myself, but right now isn't a great time.
So I come up with a different idea.
I move my hand from my side to Carter's hand, which is resting on his thigh.
His hand warms mine and I give him a supportive squeeze.
"Nova, you are a very pretty young girl." Carter's mom compliments me and I give her an accepting smile.
