Delinquent Daisy (Book 5)

Chapter 8:

            “No, no you’ve got it all wrong,” I said shaking my head. “Hot guy plus hot girl equals sex.”

            “Ahh so you’re saying you should have sex with Liam. Hmm, maybe you’ll get pregnant and then you’ll have to stay with him.”

            “I’m not saying I should have sex with Liam. What I’m saying is I should have sex with that guy,” I said referring to Hot Guy 1, who was now kicking a soccer ball around with Hot Guy 2 whilst the girl lay down on a beach towel, sun baking. “He is H.O.T.”

            “Hmm, you’re right. I think I’m seeing burn marks on you,” Beth said and I rolled my eyes. I got up and Beth and I started walking towards the water making sure to walk passed the two guys. Hot Guy 1 totally checked me out. Hot Guy 2 took the opportunity to throw the ball at his head.

.

Beth ditched me at the pub to go hook up with Jason. I was seething and I missed Noah. I was drunk. The bartender was the same one from a couple days back, the one I spilled everything to. I would be in so much trouble if he ever went public with that shit.

            “Another shot,” I ordered pointing to my empty shot glass.

            “I think you’ve had enough for tonight,” the bartender insisted.

            “I wasn’t asking your opinion.”

            “Daisy?” a feminine voice asked and I turned to see blue eyes, pale skin and dark long hair. Hope.

I rolled my eyes, “You’re not going to tell me to stop drinking are you?”

            “On the contrary. I think I’ll join you,” she said and took a seat next to me. “I’ll have whatever she’s having,” Hope said to the bartender.

            “So what are you depressed about?” I asked as the bartender slapped two shots of vodka in front of us.

            “I’ll tell you if you tell me.”

I considered. “Deal. I don’t want to be famous anymore.”

            “Anniversary of my late husband and daughter’s death,” she said and she downed the shot of vodka.

“I think we’re going to need a bottle,” I said to the bartender. All I could think was: she was so young to have lost so much. She was forced to grow up too quickly, much like I had. “So what’s your story?” I asked intrigued. I loved tragically depressing stories – they made me feel better about my own life.

Hope told me all about how she fell pregnant with her son when she was sixteen and then got married to the father and then when she was eighteen she fell pregnant again with twin girls and then not two weeks later the dad and one of the girls got into a car crash and died on impact. Oddly enough Louis was involved in the car crash which was why Hope wasn’t spending this rough time with him. She needed space she had said.

            “What about you?” Hope questioned. “What’s your story? I’m not talking about your fame story. What’s your story? Why doesn’t anyone know anything about your family?”

            “Promise me you won’t tell anyone,” I insisted.

            “Pinky promise.” She held up her pinky and I looked at it weirdly. “Sorry, I’ve been around my kids too much,” she sighed and put the pinky down.

I just nodded and then I started telling Hope all about my parents and my childhood. I even showed her my tattoo. I didn’t show anyone my tattoo and I don’t know why I showed Hope. She just had this look in her eyes, the same look I saw in my eyes when I looked in the mirror and let my guard down. She knew what it was like to grow up too quickly and that made me trust her blindly.