AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Pray for the day things change, for mom to get better and for that day to come sooner rather than later.
EDEN – AGE 18
So much for praying for things to get better.
To say things got worse would be an understatement. And now I am alone in a bar, doing the one thing I swore I wouldn’t do. Getting drunk. I sit glaring at my drink as anger from the whole situation threatens to consume me. A laugh bubbles out of me, but its humorless. I pick up my drink, necking the entire thing just to help me forget.
I glance around taking in my surroundings. The bar is chic, it overlooks the pretty California beaches and Pacific Ocean. Any other time, I would appreciate the beauty of this spot, but as I sit here, underage with my fake ID, I can’t help but hate the place. Hate Orange County and that I was forced to come here.
I don’t usually drink. Have never been drunk. But I was now on my third vodka cranberry, and I didn’t even care. Today I need it. Need to forget all the shit, the life I left behind and everything I have known for the last eighteen years. There is a silver lining though, one that makes it a bit easier to relocate. My best friend Piper accepted into Beaumont College, and would be living only an hour away.
My mom was a good mom, once upon a time. Before my father left and everything went to shit, at least. Ironically, he is no longer with the women he left mom for. Traded her in for anevenyounger model. I would laugh at what a living, breathing cliché the man is if he hadn’t turned my world upside down.
Hedecided to come visit me for the first time in six years. Visit is a little farfetched. Whathecame for was to announce his engagement to a woman he had been dating for the last eight months. I say woman, but she is closer to my age than his.
During his visit, he found out I wouldn’t be graduating high school. He wasn’t happy.
You see, dear old Dad is the Dean of a prestigious private high school in California. The embarrassment of people finding out his only daughter would not be getting her high school diploma is something he didn’t want to suffer. It took him all of a few hours to realize something was up and a few minutes to start throwing his weight around. I frown as I replay his words from that day in my head.
“Jesus, Eden, why didn’t you tell me it had gotten this bad? She is not capable of looking after herself, let alone you,”he had boomed.“And to let you miss so much school. What about college? It won’t be an option without a high school diploma? I’m so angry. It is preposterous. Humiliating.”I had let out a humorless laugh at his audacity and then let loose.
“If you actually checked in more than once every couple of years, then maybe I would have been able to talk to you. You left us. We are fine without you. I can take care of the both of us just fine.”I screamed back at him.
“Like hell you can.”was his response.
After calming down, we all talked. For the first time in six years, all of us sat down and spoke. He wanted mom to attend rehab and would pay for it on the condition I would agree to attend his school to repeat my senior year. I laughed at his ulterior motive. Daddy dearest would never do anything out of the goodness of his heart. Even for his daughter. My traitorous mother was quick to agree to this, much to my annoyance.
Now mom is in a rehab facility in Arizona, to complete a three-month treatment program. And me? I’m in sunny Orange County living withdaddyand his real-life real housewife, about to repeat my senior year at Regis Saints Academy.
I have done my research on the place. From what I can tell, it is a place for trust-fund brats. Spoiled kids who thought they were special with their designer outfits and latest gadgets that had probably never known hardship. Maybe I was being judgmental, and these kids would be different, but I am bitter and angry about my whole situation. I just need to focus on why I am doing this. Mom is finally getting the help she needs. I can do this. For her. It can’t be that hard, can it?
I am basically living the real OC life. With the big mansion, the step ford looking wives and the rich men. Declan earns good money as the Dean of Regis Saints, but it’s not what made him rich. No. That is the app he designed and developed for use in schools and sold for millions.
Honestly, as much as it pains me to admit this, I have seen it and even used it. Its good. I asked him why he continued his work at Regis Saints when he obviously didn’t have to. His response?
“Work is in our blood, Eden, whether I have ten-thousand dollars, or ten-million dollars, it doesn’t matter, I will still work.”
I didn’t know what to say to that, so I said nothing. His young, gold-digging fiancée doesn’t work. Eyeroll. So, I guess she does enoughnot workingfor both of them. I am only going off what I have seen but it is obvious why she is with him, he isn’t a bad looking man by any means, but he must be twenty years older than her.
A deep, sexy, masculine voice pulls me from my thoughts, sending a shiver up my spine.
“You look like you could use another drink?”
My head whips round, eyes connecting with his face, they widen before all the air leaves my lungs. I have never seen such a beautiful looking man in my life. I blink to make sure he is real and not an apparition I have conjured up in my drunk mind. Yep, still there. As if he can read my thoughts, he flashes me a smirk. A smirk so sexy, I swallow just to wet my dry mouth. My eyes rake over his face shamelessly, drinking in every inch of him. He looks like a god. Face chiseled and defined. Sparkling emerald, green eyes full of mischief. Tousled dark hair that is begging to have my hands run through it. My gaze drops down his body, mouthwatering at what I find. He wears a simple black t-shirt that showcases every bit of muscle, although they are covered, I can see the outline of his abs. I count them in my head. One, two, three, four…. is that an eight pack? I think it is.
My eyes drop further south of their own volition. He wears navy khakis which showcases the prominent bulge. His cock. I gulp. I may not have much experience with men but even through his pants I can tell he is big. My gaze snaps up when a throat clears. When I find the sexy strangers’ eyes on me, my cheeks heat in embarrassment. His lips curve, eyes sparkle with amusement. I glare before turning my gaze on my empty glass. Bastard knows I was checking him out. His arm brushes mine as he takes a seat on the stool beside me. My eyes flick back to him, he raises an expectant brow and I realize I haven’t yet spoken.
“What makes you say that?”
He smiles knowingly. “Because you look how I feel.” He signals the bartender with a wave of his hand. Do I look that bad?
I know I’m attractive and that’s not me being conceited; I have been told enough times. I was even model scouted last year at my local mall in Seattle but never pursued it. With my dancer’s legs, long blond hair, and blue eyes. I can easily be mistake for your typical Californian girl. I got mom’s looks andhiseyes. For a long time, I hated looking in the mirror and seeinghimstaring back at me.
My eyes dart to the mirror behind the bar where I slyly check myself out. I internally scold myself at the sight that stares back at me. Messy hair, face free of make-up. As for my outfit? I glance down at my ripped denim shorts, black tank top, and Chucks. I never usually care what I look like but right now I do, especially when I look at the man beside me. All attractive, nicely dressed, and put together.
“So, what can I get you to drink?” he asks, flashing his perfect white teeth.
I turn my whole body to face him, ready to decline his offer.
