Chapter Two: The Luccas

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When I finally made it home it was close to eight-twenty and Mom had a frustrated look on her face as she watched Dad rush around the house rearranging vases and other decorations that in had been in place for months. He must be really serious about these guests coming. It wasn't that serious to me. They were just people. The food was what mattered. It'd be entering my stomach in no time and I'd be happily content. Maybe enough to rush back to my room. I wasn't exactly sure what the ages of the kids were or if they'd even be here.

Fuck, I hoped not.

My parents would force me to play hostess if they were.

"Good you're here," Dad greeted. "Hurry up and get dressed."

I rolled my eyes and rushed away, heading up the stairs to my bedroom. My bedroom was the only occupied room on the second floor. The other two were considered guest rooms for in case relatives visited. My parents' room was downstairs on the other side of the house. I was always pleased with that because it made my adventures with Raul or my vibrator pretty discreet. The second floor wasn't really all that long in length. It wasn't anything impressive. A few family pictures hung on the walls along with other decorations. The oak wood floors were pretty fun at times, though. Eve and I sometimes with our socks on slid from one end of the hall to other laughing.

Opening my door, I looked around noting that it was still in the same slight disarray that it always was. I wasn't the neatest person in the world when it came to my room. It was my domain and a couple of bras were hanging in random places in my room. A thong could be seen slightly peeking out from my dresser drawers. Those weren't really organized either. I just shoved shirts, pants, shirts, skirts, and underwear wherever they would fit into the drawers. My closet was just as much of a mess. Clothes hung on hangers hazardously. Shoes were scattered on the floor, while a few were on the top shelf of the closet.

What this meant was that every morning or night in searching for an outfit, I ended up throwing clothes all over the place. Usually, I was too lazy to put them back immediately. Today wasn't any different, really. I'd just had an easier time piecing together an outfit. Studying the queen size bed, I immediately took note of the scattered lilac and black bed set. The main theme of my room if there was one was lilac. The curtains were that color and the carpet had splashes of lilac in flower patterns on a black background. A few of the posters on the wall had the color as well.

I sighed.

What was I going to wear?

My parents didn't approve of my style in clothing. That wasn't a shocker. What parent agreed with their seventeen year old's choice in clothing. I had a thing for crop tops, halter tops, beaters, and sometimes corset like tops. I often matched that with skinny jeans, leggings, denim shorts that went to about mid-thigh, and jean pencil skirts. I wasn't exactly a fan of heels because I'd had way too many encounters with my face meeting either the carpet or the oak floor in the hall. So, instead I was addicted to high top shoes, flats, and wedges.

The clothes in my closet were easiest to access so I decided to search there first. Going to the closet, I slid the door open and looked in at the jackets, shirts, shorts, pants, and skirts hanging up. My hands pushed hangs back until I came to a black denim pencil skirt. Taking it from the hanger, I tossed it to the bed. The search continued before I decided on a red crop top to go along with it. The pencil skirt was high waist so I'd be revealing less than two inches of skin. My black wedges would go perfectly with the outfit.

Three minutes later, I stared in the mirror twisting my body at different angles to get the best position for a selfie to post to Instagram and Facebook. Gazing into the camera, satisfied wasn't my feeling. Something seemed off. Taking my long white blonde hair down from the ponytail, I let it fall to my waist arranging a strand here and there. Next, I grabbed my rose lip gloss and touched up lips before focusing on my makeup. Some might think that it was extravagant, but I didn't. I always touched up my eyebrows, mascara and sometimes I wore false eyelashes. Today wasn't one of those days. I enjoyed accentuating my eyes. I was an expert at cat eyes and my grey eyes often stood out against the dark eyeliners that I used and the base of eyeshadow. With my soft feminine features, small nose, and full lips I was aware that I was attractive.

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