This story starts out with me in jail... and ends with me in jail.
But that's sort of suitable for a story about myself, is it not?
This is more or less a telling of me falling in love with a man I gravely didn't deserve, and him changing my life in...
Second Upload ;) Mannn... by the title, y'all already know lol Okay quick q, do you guys see the photos I usually have at the very top? It should be the book cover but cropped and without any text I've been adding them to each chapter, but when I preview my published works, it just vanishes Also, Wattpad, if y'all are here, every time I click a comment that shit be disappearing my nigga- fix it, por favor. Also I edited the prev chapters and will get to this tomorrow Anyways, enjoy! xoxo
Derek
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I tried to pull myself together best I could once that door opened. John left it open as he walked out to face the music, which let in more light from the corridor space.
I decided to have a look around the room now that I could see it better.
It was old. Really old. So old, the spines of the books were all monotoned in color, almost blending together along the shelves. It was something you rarely ever see with books of the 21st century, and though I loved a good pop of color, there was just something about old books that felt sacred.
I wanted to take a deep look around the place, but I remembered what John had said about breaking things.
Yeah... better not.
I looked with my eyes though, something my teacher always told me to do when I was younger because I always wanted to touch everything. I fucking hated when she said that. I mean, you've got to let the kid touch the hot stove to learn their lesson right?... I just incorporated that into my lifestyle- I promised myself id touch everything I could, at least once.
But today was not the day, of course. I'd caused enough trouble for John as is.
There was a black type writer sitting on the desk I was leant against, right next to me, but I hadn't noticed it before when John and I were in here earlier. I slowly stretched by hand out, hesitating a little as I contemplated it. I wanting to feel just once what the keys felt like when you pressed down, and they sprung back up quickly-
"Where's John?"
I whipped my head towards the entryway of the room as soon as that voice registered, causing me to pull my hand away from the keys. And sure enough, as if this night couldn't possibly get any worse, there, standing in the large doorway, was fucking Pierre.
He walked into the room with a wine glass in hand, which I noticed was filled to the absolute brim with red wine. Actually the fact that he could carry it without spilling any was a talent all in itself. He had this look to him like he might be a little tipsy, but his stature was normal as he waltzed into the room like he owned the place.
"Not here." I replied, taking a play from Brad's book. Less was more with this one.
"Yeah clearly. I couldn't find him out in the main hall either."
