Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 54383 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 272(@200wpm)___ 218(@250wpm)___ 181(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54383 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 272(@200wpm)___ 218(@250wpm)___ 181(@300wpm)
In her eyes, I’m still the shy and awkward girl who prefers to lock herself in a room and practice music instead of making new friends.
“I was going through your closet a while ago, and it makes me wonder if you’re preparing for a slew of funerals that I don’t know about.”
“No, Mom,” I say. “I just love wearing black and grey.”
“It’s no wonder why no guys at school ever ask you out, then,” she says. “They probably think you’re the Queen of Death or something…Then again, at least you keep your makeup light and pretty.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
Please walk away and don’t give me the ‘beautiful’ speech…
“You’re such a beautiful girl, Scarlett,” she says, stepping closer. “You have brains and talent, and I’m just worried that you’ll end up old, crusty, and reading romance novels to get yourself off instead of experiencing the real thing.”
“That’s not why people read romance novels…”
“Of course it is.” She places her hands on my shoulders. “They can’t find men in real life, so they have to resort to dating the ones on the page. I don’t want you to be like that. I want you to find a great guy who treats you well, takes care of you financially, and keeps your panties wet without you having to flip a page, don’t you?”
“I don’t want to talk about sex with you…Ever.”
“I just know that you could land any guy you wanted if you were more like—”
“My sister,” I say, “I know.”
She nods, shooting me a sympathetic look. “I meant what I said about the next three weekends. Goodnight, Scarlett.”
“Goodnight.” I watch as she steps into the hallway and shuts the door.
I move closer and wait in the silence, thinking that maybe, just maybe, she’s changed her old, troubling ways, but the telltale sound of her clicking through music samples begins. Then she begins speaking in a high-pitched sing-song voice.
“Soooo, I just caught one of my daughters sneaking in past her curfew, so I sat her down to have a heart-to-heart conversation. It was important that we discussed her behavior, and although I had to punish her, she'll respect me so much more as her mom for not giving her a free pass. Speaking of ‘free pass,’ when it comes to parenting teenagers…”
I put on my headphones and change clothes.
As a former mommy vlogger, my mother still has a habit of every moment, no matter how mundane content. Her life revolves around what will net her the most comments and likes, and even though the world knows her as “Sweet Southern Caroline” a woman who loves baking and has a Marry Poppins approach to life, she curses like a sailor and is more of a “Cool Mom.” (Oh, and the only thing I’ve ever seen her bake is a pre-package cookies,)
Thanks to all the money she made off her former “Caroline and the Twins” YouTube channel, we changed our last names and moved from our trailer park in Ohio to an estate in The South. We live in a fancy suburb where everyone owns at least four acres, and attend a school system that ranks in the top five of the nation.
It’s supposed to feel like a “prize,” but the past few years have felt more like a punishment…
By the time I open the door, my mom is long gone, so I head downstairs to the kitchen. I'm hoping I can persuade my dad to make her cancel the cruel and unusual shopping punishment, but he's not sitting at the bar anymore.
I pour myself a glass of milk and chug it down. As I’m opening a bag of Oreos, I hear a high-pitched laugh coming from outside.
Ugh, Tully…
Even though we were born six minutes apart, me and my sister couldn’t possibly be any more different. I analyze our birth certificates and call the hospital for verification on our birthday every year.
We tolerate each other's presence like strangers who share a long transatlantic flight. Cordial when we cross paths, a light conversation here and there, but never anything beyond the surface.
Her dreams of being a top influencer have come true, and she has ten million followers who buy into the sugarcoated version of her life, numerous sponsors who’ve already paid her way to college, and most importantly, a mother who knows exactly how to help her build her “brand.”
Peering through the blinds, I see that she’s not alone. She’s sitting next to her boyfriend, Easton Rush.
I suck in a breath at the sight of him in a white T-shirt that clings to his muscles, at his perfect pearly white smile that makes my heart race.
He’s the star player of the football team, the sexiest guy to ever exist in this small town. With his sinewed muscles, stunning ocean blue eyes, and a face courtesy of a maker who said, "Give me fucking perfection,” he makes grown women give him a second glance.