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A totally beautiful, yet completely tragic mess.
She's the daughter of an entrepreneur - world famous and business owner Micheal Hampton. Growing up she had everything she could have ever wanted: From toys to technology, new homes and...
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day of the accident. (day where Beau and Grayson had their little date if you're confused.)
I haven't checked my phone almost all day. And as good as it feels, I know I'm about to wish I had.
But the truth is, for one day I just wanted to feel like a teenager and not an adult- a grown man for that matter. Because it's all I get treated like when that's what my mother wants me to be, but she'll waste no time in reminding me that I'm only a child when it comes to staying out late and all of that type of shit.
The contradiction is hilarious, really.
So when Beau answers the phone to her sister I think, I decide it's probably a good idea to check what's going on on mine.
27 text messages from my mother.
To any other person the number would be alarming, but that's average for us- in fact, probably less than I had expected if I'm going to be totally honest.
And as I had expected, almost every message was regarding the previous one, which was regarding the previous one which was asking when I'll be home because there's something she needs.
It's always the case. Something she needs me to get, somewhere she needs to go (so I have to babysit) Or something she needs to 'talk about' is the newest addition.
But I really hope that was a one time thing, I'll be out of the house faster than she could message me if I ever hear that one fall out of her mouth again
I shove my phone back into my pocket, returning my focus on Beau once again as she smiles wide.
Turns out that smile came from the news of some sort of masquerade ball. The same one that I am expected to be going to, as if I know a thing about fashion or how to act remotely rich and famous. It's one area of our relationship that I do worry about sometimes, but not often.
We're both so different yet so similar at the same time. It's as if she was made to fit into the missing parts of me, the qualities I've never had as well as the ones I've lost along the way.
I stop off at Sams on the way back. Turns out we've run out of flour and Lilah wants to bake something. Speaking of baking, my mind wanders back to our very poor attempt at that last night.
Apparently you can't leave a cake in the oven for forty five minutes on Gas 7 without checking on it at least half way through, but I'm no cake expert; Beau should have taken it upon herself to remember something as simple as that.
But who am I fucking kidding, she'd forget her own name if people didn't say it all the time.
"Well, well, well. Someone's not so moody this afternoon." Sam remarks with a smile, that I actually return because he's right.
