Kinda short, sorry. Hope you all had a wonderful 4th of July, if you're from America. :)

I listened to Shirtsleeves by Ed Sheeran on repeat during this entire chapter, and I think that shows through a little bit haha. So if you'd like to listen to that song, I highly recommend it. And the rest of Ed Sheeran's new album. It's literally perfection.

Pleaaaaseee let me know what you think! I hope you like it :)


“Mom! I- what are you doing here?” I asked, all but dropping the suitcase that I just got out of her room. I could only imagine what this looked like right now.

“What the fuck is going on here?” My mom shrieked, glaring at Harry before returning her hateful gaze to me. I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard my mom swear.

“It’s not what it looks like, Mom, I swear, just-“ She interrupted me as I tried to explain to her what was going on.

“I told you to stay away from him! He’s bad news, Miranda, God knows what he did to your grades!” She was pointing her pointy nailed finger at him, and I felt myself wanting to rip it off.

“And I told you he had absolutely nothing to do with my grades! Besides, I’m not even in school anymore, and I got my grade up. What the fuck does it matter that I’m with him now?” And I think that’s the first time my mom’s ever heard me swear.

“Do not raise your voice at me, I want you to put that suitcase back where you found it and come with me. We’re going to London,” she stated in a firm voice and I frantically shook my head.

“I’m not going anywhere with you. Harry and I are going to Florida,” I stated, holding my ground. My mom was being unreasonable. She’s hardly ever in my life as it is, so why does she get a say in this subject?

“Florida? There’s no way in hell you’re going to a different country with this boy! You’re coming to London with your mother,” she gripped onto my hand, attempting to pull me out of my room but I refused, yanking my hand out of her grip. 

“What mother? I don’t see a mother in here. I see a woman who’s barely even talked to her daughter. And I’d rather go to a different country with someone who actually cares about me than to a city with someone who doesn’t have the right to even call themselves my mother,” I stated, and kind of felt bad for how rude I was being, but I honestly didn’t care. She can’t just show up in my life once a month and expect to have all of this control over me. Granted, I’m not 18 yet, but I was going to be in July, so it’s not like I’m some 15 year old that thinks she’s an adult. I’m two months away from being an adult. 

“You know I love you,” she said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. 

I rolled my eyes, throwing my hands up in the air, “Yeah, because I can so tell that by the way you only visit me once a month, and don’t even attempt to come to my graduation. You haven’t once congratulated me for getting a solid A+ in Calculus, after I was so close to failing. I even got a fucking award for finishing that damn subject at the top of my class. I got a 3.8 GPA and I was accepted to NYU, my dream college, but you wouldn’t know that, would you? Do you know what I want to do with my life? What’s my favorite color, ‘mom’,” I put quotation marks around the word ‘mom’, and I knew I was probably being cruel, but I’ve held all of this in my entire life, and it felt so, incredibly good to let it out. I felt a hand slip into mine, rubbing my palm, trying to calm me down, I’m sure. But I didn’t want to calm down. I wanted her to know how terrible it felt to grow up without parents. “You know nothing about me, and you don’t even try to get to know me. You’re too busy with dad in London to give two shits about your daughter that’s living by herself two hours away!”

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