Why don't you get a taste?
Golden girl Alison Rivers has it all: brains, looks, money, a father who adores her, and any man she wants... Or so she thought.
When she sets her eyes on Lorenzo Visconti, her academy's Italian, irresistible principal, sh...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
When I was 5 years old, my parents and I attended the wedding of my father's best friend.
It was held in a beautiful Japanese garden, that was crossed by a small river, which flowed into a clear, shallow lake. Pink nymphéas constellated its surface, some of them so close together that they formed plushy pillows of water lilies.
My mother had bought me a pastel pink dress for the occasion, that made me look like a walking cloud of cotton candy, for it was so vaporous.
I had been so careful through the entire duration of the wedding, making sure not to fall on the grass as I played with the other children, or wipe my dirty, sticky hands on the dress. And yet, when it was time to finally eat the cake, a big chunk of the chocolate-filled sponge cake fell on the immaculate fabric of my gown.
My mama got angry with me, though it didn't last long. Nobody could resist my adorable little face. But I remember her looking very disappointed with me when she saw the brown stain.
I was so sad after she scolded me, I kept crying softly, silently.
My dad, being the practical man he is, chuckled amusedly when he saw the mess I'd made. However, after seeing my tears, he picked me up and settled me on his lap, not letting me go until my crying became laughter.
It had always been like this: my mother was a bit more of a perfectionist— something I inherited, whilst my dad still doesn't care as much about little, meaningless things.
Though she loved me very much, she also got mad at me a little more, due to her nature. Dad, on the contrary, was never disappointed by my actions.
This time though, I was on my own. My father could barely look me in the eyes, and my mother wasn't here to dry my tears.
The only sounds that disrupted the heavy silence were the clanking and scraping of the cutlery against the porcelain plates, the crystal glasses being picked up and put back down onto the large glass table, and the occasional words spoken between Victoria and my father.
As if being ignored wasn't enough, dad had asked for my usual seat— the first one on his right side, next to his at the head of the table, to be moved further away from him.
The salt was currently resting in front of his plate, so I tried to shoot my shot. "Can I have the salt, please?"
No reply. No reaction, even.
Victoria was in the process of passing me the condiment, but I stopped her.
I abruptly— and rather loudly, pushed back my chair and got up, throwing my napkin on the table. "This is fucking ridiculous."
"Sit back down." He ordered firmly, yet composedly as he cut a piece of his steak, not even glancing up at me.
I scoffed and stomped out of the dining room, not even minding whatever he was saying. I quickly ran upstairs and into my room, sliding on a heavy coat and a pair of leather boots. I then grabbed my phone and my car keys, before walking downstairs once more.
