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“You’re the sister I always wanted, too.” I shake my head and laugh. “Well, the cool, big sister I always wanted. I already have the annoying little one.”
Abby laughs along with me. “Take it easy on Morgan. She’s wonderful, too. Your whole family is.”
“Do you want to come over? If Marcus isn’t home yet, you can hang out with Lydia and me until he gets home.”
“I should probably stay here and make sure they don’t do anything stupid to hurt themselves. They suck, but they’re still my parents.”
“Are you sure?” I hate the thought of leaving Abby here alone with them.
“Definitely. They’re harmless. They’ll pass out soon enough and then I’ll just go to bed, too. I’ll be fine.”
I take my phone out of my pocket to check for a text. “I still haven’t heard from Lydia. Want to watch TV or something until she texts me?”
“Sounds perfect, little sis.”
***
It’s another two hours before Lydia texts me and in that time, just as predicted, Abby’s parents pass out.
When I get to my house, Lydia is waiting on the front porch for me. “You know you could have just gone in,” I shout to her as I get out of my car.
Lydia jumps off of the porch and walks over to my car. “And miss the opportunity to greet my bestie as soon as she arrives? Never.”
“Suck up.”
“You’re right. I am sucking up because I feel bad that I’m actually very tired and will probably fall asleep right when we get inside.”
“But my mom bought you snacks,” I say as if I’m offended.
“I take it back. I can definitely stay awake for snacks.”
Lydia can’t stay awake for much more than snacks, and less than an hour later, we’re lying in my bed together.
Lydia moves closer to me, throws her arm over my stomach, and rests her head on my chest. “Snuggles?”
“You’re so weird,” I say with a chuckle. “Maybe you should have gotten your snuggles from your other bestie.”
Lydia is weirdly silent for a minute before speaking again. “You know you’re my number one.”
Chapter 11
*Love Interest*
I love being close to Marjorie. As I stand here listening to her talk, I wish I could be even closer. She has no idea that the note she left me, that I still haven’t had a chance to read, is currently in my pocket.
“Well, have a good weekend. I’ll see you on Monday.” Marjorie fixes her ponytail then turns away from me.
I don’t mean to watch her walk away, but I can’t help it. She’s so good-looking. It’s honestly unfair how good-looking she is. And she doesn’t even know it, even though she totally should.
Somehow, I have enough restraint to wait until I’m home to take the note out of my pocket and read it. As soon as I open it up, a smile comes onto my face.
Hey, you! Yesterday was such a long freaking day. It wasn’t bad, just long. That’s why I didn’t have a chance to write back though.
I’m really glad you enjoyed my drunken ramblings. You don’t have to feel bad about what happened AT ALL. It’s totally not your fault. Honestly, I was an idiot. I should have known something was up.
I think it’s AWESOME that you want to be a writer and can tell just from your notes that you would be an amazing one. What genre do you want to write?
I’m trying to think of something no one knows about me. This one definitely isn’t as much fun as yours, but I’m super insecure. I act confident, but that’s all it is. - an act. I always worry that I’m not good enough. Not pretty enough. Not smart enough. Not athletic enough. I have people telling me that I am, but there’s a voice in my head that tells me I’m not. I’m worried I’m going to be one of those people who peaks in high school. What if ten years from now I’m sitting in a bar, talking about my glory days that no one wants to hear about?
