eighteen » l.h

54.

im sorry if there's any errors!! i'll come back and fix it in like, 84 years.

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It hurt me to let her go, but she needed to spend some time with her friends. I couldn't have her all to myself, although that did sound appealing. But I couldn't.

I watched her drive wave after waving her goodbye and dramatically catching the kiss she blew through the window. I love her.

I love her so damn much, it's overwhelming. I love her witty little ways. I love her bright blue eyes that appeared to hold the entire Atlantic Ocean. I love her smile and how it sometimes stretched from ear to ear when I lightly kissed her nose and/or forehead. I love her voice and how soothing and erotic it is to my ears. I love her long, silky, blonde hair and how it moves with the brisk wind or just the simplest movement.

I love how strong she is, how she seems to handle tough situations, how quickly she seeks for aid instead of bottling everything up. I love how much of an optimistic person she has become, how much she seems to care and protect others, including herself, from harm or trouble the best way she can.

She has grown into this person I'm sure no one would have ever expected her to become, and for that, I'm deeply in love. She blows my mind away with the topics she talks about, whether it be completely and utterly ridiculous or not. She blows me away with her beauty, with her actions, with everything.

She's perfect.

My thoughts about my lovely and caring - girlfriend? Is she my girlfriend? Oh god. I never officially put a title to what we are. Is she bothered by that? Should I ask her to be my girlfriend when she gets back? I mean, she already knows she's mine and that I'm hers, but are titles important to her? Fuck.

I shake my head and grab my phone off of the coffee table, seeing her name on display. I read through her message, my heart halting it's beating for a quick second. She's alone, without any of her friends, without anyone to protect her but herself. In full on honesty though, she wouldn't be able to do anything while feeling anxious and scared. Those are the worst combinations for her, she's basically useless and I need to go to her. I need to help her.

I ran up the stairs to put on my converse, tying the laces tightly. I need to be ready, for no one was sure what would happen.

I wasn't entirely prepared but it was enough, I think. I was nervous and I was scared but I couldn't let Estelle know that. I need to be strong for her. I need to be her rock, her support, the one there for her, the one to save her.

"Look," I huff. I know exactly who was behind this and I was quite fed up. Estelle, though, was blinded by her multiple strings of emotions to see that it was in fact her fucking excuse - of - a - mother who is doing this. "Despite my slight dislike towards him, I know for a fact that he loved you and he may or may not still love you. So the possibility and/or assumption of him just leaving you there is out of the list."

"What if he was jumped? Or kidnapped?"  She quickly says.

"I can't say anything about that," That was a possibility, but one could only hope that wasn't the case. It would be devastatingly horrible for Estelle. I don't want that for her. "But just try your best to think clearly and hope for nothing but the good." I wasn't being all that helpful, I could hear her heavy breathing and occasional short sobs but I was trying my very best.

"You're at Jones Beach, right?" I have to make sure I didn't go to the wrong beach.

"Yeah." She whispered.

"I'm here in the parking lot." No other car was in sight. It was only me.  "There's no other car here."

"So he did leave." I could practically hear her heart shatter. "His reason is justifiable." I didn't know much of this guy, Calum, but I know for a fact that he would seek for a way to cope, to get his mind off of her. I mean, who wouldn't?