Once my bath was done it was well after seven in the morning and my body was the most relax it had even been. I forced myself to change my stained sheets before turning on my ac and snuggling deep within my covers. I was out like a light within seconds. Once again I was awaken by the sound of my phone ringing. I groaned as I pulled the covers off my head and laid there for a second. My body was sore and it hurt to move. I didn't want to move I just wanted to go back to sleep, but whoever was calling me didn't seem to understand that. With a groan I picked up my phone.
"Hello?" I answered groggily.
"Oh Princess you're giving me chills with that morning voice. Now please come let me in."
"Novian?" I asked fully awake now.
"Yeah." he answered. I frowned. I didn't remember giving him my number.
"How did you get my number Novian?"
"Learn to put a lock on your phone Princess." was all he said as I groaned. Of course he did.
"There's a key under a rock in a empty potted plant. Come in and stay downstairs. I'll be down in a second."
"Okay then." I didn't give him a chance to say anything else as I stood up and tried to decide what to wear for today. I paused wondering if I'd been rude towards him. I didn't mean to, I was just tried and a bit sore. If my dad was here, well first he'd try scaring Novian then he'd want me to go to my chest for today's outfit. It was lined with sweatpants and oversized t-shirts. I kept my hoodies on the hooks he installed on my wall. It was easy access and quick to choose through. However, my mom would want me to go into my barely touched closet. It was full of what my dad called 'girlie things' but my mom called it fitted. Sighing I walked towards my closet and opened it. It seemed my mom was having more of an affect on me these days than my dad was.
I choose a pair of black skinny jeans, a white spaghetti strapped tank top that looked like it would only cover my breast and finally a red button up to go over it. I walked over and picked out my matching black lace set with red hearts over it. To finish off the look I grabbed a pair of red and black pumps. I was sure mommy would be proud of the outfit I put together. I took a quick shower and just stared at myself in the mirror. I was having a very brutal internal battle. Mom's voice won again. I unbraided my hair and grabbed the bottle of substance my mother just bought. She said it was suppose to straighten my hair and keep it straight for awhile. This was going to take forever. Using almost half the bottle I made sure it was on each strand. Next, I had to brush my hair so it could spread thoroughly throughout. Once that was done it was time to section it off before applying the heat to it. I made four sections carefully brushing out each section before straightening it. Once the first section was done, I stared at my reflection in shocked.
It worked.
It really worked.
I was more than eager to finish the rest of it so I could send a pic to my mom. Once I was done I couldn't stop touching it. There wasn't a single curl in sight and it was staying straight. It was soft to the touch and for once I could run my hands through it. To my surprise my hair reached down to my lower back. Quickly I snapped a picture and sent it to my mom. I had just put on my underwear when my phone rang. I smiled seeing it was my dad.
"Hey daddy."
"Hey Princess." he cried. Why was he crying? "Mommy showed me your picture. You look beautiful sweet."
"Thanks daddy, but why are you crying?"
"My little girl is growing up." he began to cry harder and I myself began to tear up.
" I'm sorry sweetie. They got him on some kind of medicine to help with the pain. He's a bit emotional right now."
"It's okay mommy I'm just glad I got to talk to him. It feels good to be able to hear his voice."
YOU ARE READING
Desire Like Fire
General Fiction"You were just supposed to be the new neighbor, but you grew on me Novian. Tell me, Did you really mean what you said?" I asked excited for his answer. I should've been scared, but I wasn't. Novian Tyler excited me in a way that I didn't quite under...
