Love of a Bad Girl

pte

stupid," she muttered, rubbing her temples as i

ith at the time-and, in many ways, I still was. He wasn't just a boy. He was a good friend, someone who helped me grow. He was the one

r disapproving glares, their scolding lectures that I should focus on my studies instead. But I wanted something more, and I wasn't go

wasn't like that. He made sure everything felt right. He went out of his way to make it an experience I would never forget. He'd booked a

s ama

" she finally said, her voice slightly distant as she seemed to return to reality. "Tomor

my eyes.

other tried to fit me into her idea of what a "perfect family" should look like. Every year, it was the same thing. She'd spend weeks preparing, decorating the villa, and org

irs, cutting through the air. "Dannie

stairs. This was always a mess. No matter how early we started, my

ather my black suitcase. He took it from me and pl

e grumbled und

arcastically, unable to hide the amusement in my voice. My dad was usually the quieter one in the

group of family and friends. The villa was her personal paradise-a place to show off and remind everyone just how perfect her life was

omparing how much money I had with other people, or how their lives measured up against mine.

hild." The perfect daughter, the pretty, blonde, popular one. She had everything going for her-at least in their eyes. She never struggled with finding a place in the fami

mands started before we even unpacked. "You and Daniella will share a bedroom," she said, looking at

rience. She was messy, obnoxious, and cared far too much about appearances. But this

fed and puffed, clearly annoyed by the weight of the suitcases she'd packed, though I was su

est of our lives," I said dryly, watching as she dr

corners of her lips. "Some people want to look good," she said, her voice drippin

a walking, talking mannequin is definitely the

while mine was about something deeper-something more real. We were different, but that

as I finished putting my clothes away.