murder // m.c.

eighteen; recovery

                           eighteen; recovery

          "Baby," I groan, reaching my arm out towards her. "Come back to bed."

"No," she whines. "I have to shower and then I have to be home before noon."

"Why?" I ask as I sit up, watching her get her clothes from last night.

We stayed up all night talking about everything and anything. I can honestly say after last night, I've never felt more comfortable around anyone and that's such a good feeling.

She must've drank a hundred bottles of water and peed a hundred times, but she completely sobered up without a hangover, which is pretty impressive. We slept for about an hour (from nine to ten) before her phone rang, waking us both up.

Niall called her at around ten asking her where she was because her parents were asking him a hundred questions. After she hung up the phone with him, she called somebody else, but I was half asleep and not paying attention to either call, to be honest.

And now, she is gathering her things, probably getting ready to leave, which I really don't want her to do.

"Because Niall covered for me and told my parents I stayed at Audrey's. They think me and Sam had a last minute sleepover at Audrey's, so if I go home in the same clothes I had last night, I won't look suspicious," she explains. "However, if I smell like alcohol and my boyfriend, they might think otherwise."

"Do they know we're back together?"

"I told Niall and then Audrey and Sam when I told them the story. They all knew that we were suppose to talk last night, anyway."

"Oh," I nod, running my fingers through my hair. "What did they say?"

She stops and looks at me. "Why?"

I shrug. "Just curious."

She smiles and walks back over to my bed. She sits on the edge and looks down at me. "Well, the Sam and Audrey are very happy for us and Niall just said, and I quote, that's nice, now get your ass home."

I smirk. "I wish you could keep your ass here," I say, snaking my arms around her waist as I lazily lay down again.

She turns and I rest my head on her lap. Smiling, she leans down to kiss me. "Maybe you can come over later."

I look up at her. "And do what?"

"I don't know, you could stay for dinner."

I scoff and sit up. "You want me to stay for dinner?"

She shrugs. "Yeah, sure, why not?"

I look at her. "We've been back together for, like, eight hours and you already want me to meet your parents?"

"We were already dating for almost a month," she points out. "And we've known each other for almost three months."

"You really want me to meet your parents?" I ask her suspiciously.

"Do you not want to?" She asks. "It's okay if you don't want to, I get it if you think it's too soon."

I shrug. "Because I'm not really the kind of guy you bring home to your parents." Which is the honest truth. I'm the exactly opposite to what any normal person would want to introduce to their parents.

"Why not?"

I look at her. "Well, because when they ask me what my parents do, abandoner and murderer aren't the kind of positive influences a kid should have. And that's even if they see past my appearance."