Bad Meets Good 2 {On Hold}

{Chapter I} | Talk To Me

The thunderous noise of a lawn mower screaming from outside her window wakes her up from her slumber. Groaning, she snatches the once warm covers off her body before sitting up in her bed. She raises her hands up and wipes at her eyes with the back of her hands while shaking her head in annoyance. Who in their right mind mows the lawn this early in the fucking morning? Rolling her eyes, she walks around Taco’s sleeping body and proceeds towards her bathroom, doing the usual—brushing her teeth, showering, and cleansing her face off when everything else are done.

Strolling around her room, she takes a seat down on her bed and grabs her phone off the bedside table. The first thing she notices when she presses the unlock button is the time, reading 1:47p.m. So, she stands correct. Who in their right mind wouldn’t mow their lawn at this time of day? It’s the afternoon, after all. The next thing she observes is that she has notifications from everyone that she has yet to open and respond.

Except from Harry.

She frowns. He still hasn’t returned any of her text messages and calls back. He must really hate me now. Standing up from her bed, she walks over to her closet and puts on a simple outfit consisting of a: denim jeans, a plain white crop top, and her pair of red converse. Afterwards, she puts her hair up in a high messy ponytail before joining leaving her room.

She walks inside of the kitchen with dropped shoulders and Mark looks away from his laptop and at her with a raise of eyebrows. He watches her saunter over to kitchen counter, filling her plate up with left over breakfast food before asking, “What’s wrong with you?”

Cracking open a can of Sprite, she takes a sip. “I’m still hung up on everything that happened last night, dad,” she says. “Everything was great at first then everything spiraled downhill and now Harry probably hates me.” She slips a forkful of scrambled eggs into her mouth.

“If I was him,” Mark starts. “I would hate you too. No offense.”

She gazes at him at a loss of words. “Wh—“

“Relax, I’m just kidding,” he assures while laughing and she rolls her eyes.

“Dad, that wasn’t funny.”

“Yeah, that wasn’t funny,” Scarlett, says, strolling inside of the kitchen. “Are you trying to make her feel even worse? She’s already beating herself up over it.”

Mark closes his laptop awkwardly while exchanging glances between them both. “I’m sorry? I was trying to lighten the mood.”

“Well, you did a horrible job at doing so,” Scarlett says.

London doesn’t even bother paying attention to her parent’s conversation. She completely zones out while eating her food silently to herself. It’s appetizing yet with every forkful she eats, the blander it becomes. Until it begins to taste like nothing. A wave of nausea washes over her, the longer she sits there in anticipation of leaving. She doesn’t want to believe it, but she’s actually scared. Scared of what’s going to happen once she gets to house. What if he doesn’t open the door for her? What if he’s still pissed off at her? All of the thoughts are pessimistic, not even one of them is edging along the lines of optimism.