The relationship between Rita and Peter seemed doomed, after all, she thought she was moving across the ocean forever just when she realized she loved him.
But did she really? A lot has happened since, find out how much on Ruled, where they make...
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I'm sitting on the door steps of my new home, the typical breeze of a youthful September, summer night blows my curls across my face and although it's warm and comforting I'm shaking like a browning leaf in the middle of an Autumn's storm.
If I had slept for an entire week it wouldn't have made a difference to the exhaustion that overcomes my body. The fact that I'm clearly jet-lagged from the turbulent flight of eleven hours from which I exited not even three hours ago, it's not the reason why I'm drained of energy even if I wish it was.
''You're still here?'' Thomas, my official step-father asks as he opens the front door. I look back over my shoulder and shrug, moving to the side so he can sit beside me. ''I thought you'd be happy you're back, what's that frown for?'' His voice is soft, caring and reassuring in a way I don't recall having around- It's maybe the way a father speaks but of course, unfortunately, I don't remember how that goes. ''Hm?'' He elbows my arm playfully when I linger my silence.
''I am!'' I smile. I know I can't display I'm not all happy to the people that have turned their life around for me and my future. ''I'm just pissed Isaac's late.'' Thomas chuckles at my remark and sooner should I have spoken.
My cousin's car pulls up into the stone driveway ahead of us a minute later, almost blinding me with the bright blank headlights of his Mercedes.
I sure as hell didn't expect the collective of mixed emotions that begun blurring my every senses from the moment I climbed down the plane steps and suddenly realized what being back meant, tough as soon as I see my cousin slash best friend jump off his car with the wide smile I missed so much all it seems to vanish and happiness takes over, washing all clutter in my heart away.
''What have you done to your hair?'' He asks with a raised eyebrow and he stops in his tracks looking at me like I have a disfigured face. Ah, there's the classic exaggeration I didn't miss.
''Good to see you too!'' I chuckle, failing completely to fake offence and stand up rearranging the shoulder strap of her bag.
Isaac smirks, dropping his character and pulls me into a hug so thigh it tells me, without wording, that he's missed me more than I thought he did. I feel my heart flutter with happiness both at the affection and at the fact I'm reunited at last with one of my best friends.
''Seriously now, what is it this color?'' Isaac asks again when he pulls back and wraps a curl that usually frames my face around his index finger.
I don't want to tell him, and so I simply shrug, that every time something happens in my life from which I feel like I need to recover from, changing my hair, from color to cut, is the first step I take towards it.
I started doing it when I was about fourteen. Me and my mother had to move again, and I colored my hair purple one day after school motivated by Skylar, this goth girl with green hair and the only friend I made in that school from whom I , sadly, don't know the whereabouts of today.
