Trophy Daughter

Chapter 30- Filling in Time

Hi! I lost my plan for this story (since my laptop fucking BROKE and has been getting fixed for a few months) and have been planning a new end! 

IT IS NOW BACK ON TRACK!!!

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Exams were soon. I stared at the fattest fucking textbook I had ever seen in my life and swiped it off my desk, scoffing at the absurd amount I had paid for it when I hadn't even opened it. University seemed like a big fat scam, if you ask me. And yet here I am, still stressed out of my mind. 

In two weeks, I would be head down, brain fried in a room of know-it-alls with Caroline behind the scenes trying to fuck my life up if I didn't do something about it soon. She'd probably try to have me framed for cheating on my exams, or tear apart every friendship I had ever made throughout this semester. 

No more Nikky if that bitch followed through. I ran a hand angrily through my hair, fear striking my heart at the prospect of losing the big, brawny bear if Caroline somehow needled her way between us. Whatever us was. I shook the thought out of my head and ignored the way my heart beat just a little faster in my chest at his image in my brain. Of course, when faced with an evil step-mother possibly most-likely ruining my life, I would be the one to start thinking about abs. 

And thighs. 

Shaking my head again, I leaned back in my chair. That bitch needed to be taken care of. And not in any big, dramatic way, just in a way that kept her out of my life for-fucking-ever. 

My sadness had twisted, twisted so much all I felt was frustration. Caroline wasn't meant to be my problem. She was meant to live her happy, shallow life with Carlisle, and be glad I was gone. 

Why was she still my problem if she wasn't my mother? 

Twirling my pen around my fingers, I thought. The only reason she wanted to still be involved was because she thought Carlisle loved me. And in some small, weird, insignificant way, he probably did. But from her perspective, she saw how he still gave me money. He still paid for my tuition. He still...had my phone number? I had seen his phone once and all he had were his business contacts, her and me. 

Crazy, crazy bitch. 

Maybe I could just cut Carlisle out of my life forever. Tell him to not send me money or have anything financially or literally to do with me. That would never work. He's always had his money in too many banks, and he probably wouldn't listen to me anyway - not with this big rush of father guilt that blinded him to everything but his own selfishness. 

I sighed and smacked my head against the desk. There was really nothing I could do, since she hadn't done anything yet. 

It was a pure waiting game. 

I stood up and went to Maria's room, deciding to leave the house and drag her study down with mine. Maria opened her door after I knocked, an eyebrow raised, paint all over her face. 

"Want to go and stare at sweaty guys at Nikhil's gym?"

interest immediately flared in her eyes, but that shyness I only saw rarely emerged. So I said the one thing that she couldn't pass up. 

I twirled some hair around my finger. "Maybe...I could get one of them to let you paint on them." 

Hook, line and sinker. Maria turned quickly to gather her paints and... no brushes? Oh. She wanted to finger paint. 

We walked giddily to Nikhil's private gym, a medium sized space reserved just for his MMA club. The boys all waved hi when I entered, their eyes curiously following the white haired girl next to me. Her gaze flipped everywhere, struggling to decide which of the gloriously hard bodies she would peer pressure me into peer pressuring.