She nods, biting the inside of her cheek as she cocks her head to the side. “Both really good options. I know you would be happy either way.”
I laugh. “I hope.” Fiddling with the ring around my finger, I worry. “I’m only eighteen. It’s scary to think I’m figuring out my future right now. I have no idea what I want to do tomorrow, let alone twenty years from now.” I throw my hands up in the air.
“Taking one day at a time is important—”
“I know; I know.” I wave at her. “I’m just stressing out for no reason.”
“You wouldn’t be my daughter if you didn’t overthink for stupid reasons,” she jokes, bringing her coffee cup in the air, clinking it against mine.
“Amen to that.”
* * *
“Come here, boy,” I say happily to Simba.
My excited golden retriever puppy runs over to my bed and stands on his back legs. His golden fur shines due to the sunlight that beams into my room. He can’t reach my bed yet since he’s just a small puppy. Mom surprised me with him a couple of weeks ago. Even though I’m lonely, Simba fills a big part of my heart. He’s always happy to see me, and that feels good. That feels refreshing.
“How’s my boy doing?” I ask him.
I smile when his cute face comes closer to mine. Giving my cheek a kiss, he snuggles his head into my neck. Over the past couple of weeks, I’ve noticed how snuggly he is whenever I hold him. He always falls asleep in my arms, which is the most wholesome thing ever.
I truly do feel like a mom to him. He makes me feel like I have a purpose.
I smile and kiss his head softly. Reaching my hand over to my nightstand, I grab the book I’m currently reading. A forbidden, enemies-to-lovers romance with so much steam that I had to place it down a couple of times before resuming.
My love life might be nonexistent, but at least I fall in love with every fictional man I read about.
I look up and let my eyes roam over my bedroom. The wall opposite of my queen-size bed is a giant bookshelf. All my money goes to local bookstores. Reading is my new hobby since I don’t do anything else with my life. Whenever I go somewhere, I take a book with me. Even if I don’t plan on reading, it’s always in my black leather backpack I carry around with me. Reading is therapeutic. It’s like escaping to a world without actually escaping. I sometimes wonder how words on pages can bring me so much joy.
I’m snapped out of my thoughts when I see my phone light up, showing an incoming FaceTime call.Harperpops up on the screen, informing me that my best friend is calling me. She calls at least once a day. Sometimes, I pick up, and other days, I don’t.
I’ll give her credit; she’s the only person who hasn’t given up on me. I know she’s tired of me, but she understands I want space. I’m super grateful for her.
I smile sadly down at the profile picture I placed for her. She’s giving me a piggyback at an outdoor concert we went to one night before the shooting. Her tongue is sticking out playfully. My olive skin stands out, compared to her beautiful brown skin. I’ve known her since we were five. She’s the sibling I never had, and I know my parents are practically her parents as well.
Well, just my mom now …
I know I promised I would try, but I don’t feel like talking today. I want to enjoy my book. Silencing my phone, I go back to reading.
* * *
I wake up with a start when my book goes crashing down to the floor from my bed, causing my heart to speed up from the sudden loudness. “Shit,” I mutter and rub my sleepy eyes.
I glance down toward my lap and see Simba staring at me with his big chocolate-brown eyes. The sudden bang my book made must have startled him as well.
“Did that scare you too?” I ask him, and he whines. “Sorry, boy,” I say as I pet his head.
Internally, I groan on the inside. My book closed … without my bookmark inside of it.
“Just my luck.”
As I reach down to the floor in an awkward position because of Simba lounging on my lap, I almost tumble to the ground. My hand stops me just before my head meets the hardwood floor.
Thank you, Jesus. You must’ve been looking out for me.
Simba jumps off my bed and runs out of my room in a hurry without looking back.
“Just my fucking luck,” I repeat to myself but louder than before.
