Dakota Archer

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"Wake up," is what I hear before something falls on me

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"Wake up," is what I hear before something falls on me.

I open my eyes to see River's messy hair over my chest, his arms tightly crushing my waist.

"Get the fuck off me," I tell him and can't help but laugh at his childish behavior.

"We're going out, I need new clothes."

"You're kidding right? What the fuck happened to your clothes?"

"You didn't think they'd fit me forever, did you? Look at me, those clothes just fit for a couple weeks. Have you seen these?"

He makes some arrogant poses, each change of gesture bringing out a new laugh from me.

"Fine. I need some stuff too."

"Great. Get up."

"I will, but there's a fucking River lying on me."

At that moment he sits straight up on my bed, letting me walk over to my closet. I take out some white jeans and a sleeveless green shirt. What? Just because I'm the fucking North's daughter doesn't mean I'll just wear black, white and grey. And, after some hanging out with Samantha I've learned a little from her.

Despite the fact that some form of unity has glued the five of us, me, River, Samantha, Duke and Avery, together, me and Avery haven't spoken a word to each other for days. I've talked more with Samantha's minions than with him. I don't know whether to be grateful or annoyed, since I don't miss his voice whatsoever but don't understand how he dares be the one to be mad at me.

I take off my shirt and put the other one on, River's eyes immediately falling to the floor instinctively. He's always done that, and surprisingly, not only to me. Believe it or not, his inner whore has had no effect on his inner gentleman. "I'm done."

He looks at me again when I'm dressed, talking about Samantha as I put on some makeup and tie my hair up.

"Now I can finally get ready," he says as he gets up to his feet.

"Couldn't you not waste my time by doing that the same time as me?"

"You take forever, I need to make sure you're done in minutes, not hours. I just need to throw on clothes and brush through my hair."

I roll my eyes as we make our way to his room, all the time whining until he's dressed up in jeans and a white shirt supposed to show off his abdomen through the thin fabric. Ugh.

"Let's go," he says within minutes.

I have to admit that he does look good. Just like he's come out from a dream. He's always looked good, not to mention the addition his confidence and perfect little smile does to his charm. It's hard not to notice him, and even though the looks he gets from girls are disgusting and trigger my eye rolling function, I can't help but no blame them.

The Daughter of the Gangleader •UNDER EDITION•Where stories live. Discover now