Perrie Lancaster has zero plans after college. No dream job she's working toward, no one to impress, and no care for anything other than making her last two years of college one big party.
Levi Saints wants nothing more than to follow his dream of t...
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اوووه! هذه الصورة لا تتبع إرشادات المحتوى الخاصة بنا. لمتابعة النشر، يرجى إزالتها أو تحميل صورة أخرى.
I don't have many regrets in life.
For instance, being accidentally arrested once for an incident revolving around the town square's water fountain. Was it stupid? Absolutely. Do I regret it? No.
Sleeping through one of my midterm finals in my sophomore year of college. Did I fail the class? Yes, yes I did. Do I regret it? No, that was the best sleep I've had since I was a baby and I'll forever cherish that.
But. Answering my mother's phone call at the end of class on a random Wednesday. Was it stupid? Incredibly. Do I regret it? With every breath I take while she complains over the line.
"Why am I the one who has to talk to him? He's your father," she badgers, her voice sounding like a drill in my skull.
It's the same argument we always have. Curse your father. He abandoned me to raise two kids alone. Now he thinks he can call me out of the blue?
I close my eyes and breathe deeply before replying, "I don't know mom, why do you keep answering his calls?"
There's a sharp intake of breath on her side. Here we go. "Do not get smart with me, young lady." Her voice is clipped, each word holding its own veiled threat.
I rub my face, careful to step around a student standing in the middle of the hallway in the library. I'd just finished a study group session in one of the conference rooms available with a few students in my class.
It's already late in the afternoon when I walk outside and see the sun slowly setting behind the buildings. The air is brisk, not too cold but it's clear the fall is making an entrance in the middle of September.
"It was a simple question mom," I say, defeat in my tone. My whole life has been spent arguing with this woman. "What did he want anyway?"
My relationship with my father is...unique, I guess? He treats Wren and me more like buddies than his kids. We only see him once a year, during the summer for two weeks. He lives in Arizona, which is the worst place for someone like Wren to be in the middle of summer. That girl is afraid of the brightness on her phone, the sun is her mortal enemy.
She scoffs, the frustration of even thinking about my father, driving her mad. "Something about him changing her phone number because of some crazy girlfriend and about one of you leaving a backpack of clothes at his place, he wanted to tell me he shipped it through to you," she says, her tone scolding. God forbid one of us forgets a hairbrush at our fathers. "Just next time, proactively call him Perrie, so he stops bothering me."
I pause in the middle of the pathway, staring at the orange sky in silent prayer. My inhale is shaky. "I mean I would if I knew we forgot clothes or if I had his new number. Can you please send it to me?"
