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Hope u got home safe. If it gets bad come home. I’ll let you sleep in my bed. I promise to sleep on the couch like a good boy. ;)
I smiled. Something I rarely did when I was stuck behind these walls.
I’m here. Getting ready for bed. Miss u.
Miss u 2. Think about that tattoo and I’ll think about mine.He replied.
Ur getting another 1?I asked.
U can never have 2 many tattoos.;)
I had to agree with that. I loved Trace’s tattoos.
Night, Olivia. And seriously, my place is yours if you need it.He texted a few seconds after his previous message.
Night. I’ll keep that in mind. :)
I could tell he was worried about me being here, even though it was only for a few days. When I left early this morning, I was shocked to find him outside my dorm, leaning next to my car. He kissed me over and over again, like with each kiss he was trying to convince me to stay. It almost worked, but fear got the better of me. I didn’t want my dad driving all the way to Virginia and tracking me down.
I turned my phone off since my dad frowned upon texting and tossed it onto my bed. It got lost in the sea of frilly white and pink blankets. My room hadn’t changed since I was five.
The walls were a pale pink, teddy bears cluttered a corner, and white sheers kept anyone from peering in the large windows.
This room should feel like an oasis, but I was more comfortable in my dorm room. At least it reflected me. This room was who my father wanted to pretend I was.
I grabbed my pajamas from my suitcase and walked across the hall to shower.
I wasn’t in there long, because my dad would have ended up banging on the door, yelling about all the water I was wasting. But by the time I got out, they were both in bed.
“Olivia!” My dad called out before I could tiptoe across the hall to my room.
“Yeah?” I replied, cursing everything I could think of.
“Leave your door open,” he warned.
I rolled my eyes since he couldn’t see me. “I know,” I muttered.
I made sure to leave the door wide open, not cracked, and climbed into bed.
But I couldn’t sleep. I never could when I was here. I don’t know what I was waiting for, but it was something.
???
My dad had the Kirkpatrick family, who were members of his church, over for Thanksgiving dinner.
“Sit there and look pretty,” my dad had told me before they showed up.
It was no surprise when Kevin Kirkpatrick sat down beside me. He was a year older than me, and my dad had planned our wedding and named our children, by the time I was four and he was five.
I had news for my daddy-o, I would rather stab myself in the eye than marry Kevin. All he talked about was himself. If I had to hear one more time about how he did this…or that…I was going to scream bloody murder.
Finally, for my sanity’s sake, I tuned him out, and pretended to listen, inserting a nod here and there. Kevin didn’t even notice that I wasn’t paying attention. Pretentious jerk.
I ate my dinner slowly as my dad played the part of the perfect husband and father. Telling those gathered how well I was doing in college. He didn’t even know what I was studying to be.
Kevin’s hand brushed against mine and I scooted a teensy bit fart
her away.
