Page 7 of Never Gonna Lie (Forbidden #2)
Chapter Seven
RAVEN
PRESENT DAY
T hrowing my pen down on my desk, I exhale slowly and lean back in my chair, facing the ceiling as I contemplate giving everything up and just becoming a trophy wife.
This assignment’s kicking my ass, like literally booting me so hard I can’t think straight.
The overthinking of every tiny little thing, only to barely scrape by, is unreal.
The overwhelming need to give up and work at the Honey Pot full-time is sounding pretty good right about now.
At least that way I wouldn’t have to use my brain to figure out what part of the body does what and where.
The door bangs open, alerting me to Felicity’s arrival, and I inwardly groan. I really don’t need her shit right now .
I know it sounds like I hate her, but I don’t; I just don’t understand her brash ways. She reminds me of the popular girls in high school who used to pick on me. I don’t know what I ever did to her, but she clearly dislikes me and makes it known every time I’m in the same room as her.
“Raven, are you here?” she calls out, slamming cupboard doors in search of who knows what.
Pushing myself up from my desk with a sigh, I amble through to the kitchen to find out what she wants. “What’s up, Felicity?” I ask as I lean against the door frame.
She’s currently rifling through the cupboards, pulling out various bottles of alcohol and glasses. Felicity bends over to grab the mixer from the bottom drawer, and her tight black dress hikes up, showing me more of her ass than I ever needed to see.
That’s me bleaching my eyeballs tonight.
She looks up at me as she replies, “I’m having company over tonight.”
I roll my eyes inwardly. Felicity always has ‘company’ over. She’s a beautiful girl, and I can see why guys go nuts over her—long, blonde hair, pink pouty lips, and a slim figure tends to send them into a tailspin.
“That’s fine. I’m going home for the weekend, anyway. I don’t have class until Monday, so I’m heading up tonight.”
Felicity shrugs her shoulders, not interested in a word I’ve just said. “Cool.” She brushes past me, and I teeter on my feet with the force of it as she storms off to her bedroom without a backward glance.
I honestly don’t know why I bother.
Times like this, I really wish I hadn’t refused Dad’s offer of an apartment. Living with Mia would be a hell of a lot better than this .
Sighing, I go to my own room and clear everything away. Deciding that my assignments will still be there on Monday morning, I grab my bag and keys before locking up and heading down to my car.
It takes me an hour to get to my dad’s house, but it feels like it doesn’t take any time at all.
Seeing as I’ve made this journey so many times, I could probably do it with my eyes closed.
The rolling hills and neighboring streets give me something to focus on while I’m driving.
I’ve always loved the commute, putting on an audiobook, winding down the windows, and just being in my own head for a while is actually quite therapeutic.
Slowing to a stop, I pull up to the gates and key in the code. Dad lives on an estate in one of the more popular towns of Darlington. It’s where I lived and went to school until starting at Abingdon. I’ve got some good memories in this house and some not-so-great ones.
I think Dad brought it when it was first built, so it’s in pretty good shape, the large bay windows and colosseum porch giving it an air of elegance that doesn’t fit our family.
Well, dad and I, anyway, Emma is the epitome of elegance.
Paul, the gardener, comes in once a week to keep on top of the lush green gardens and copious flower beds that Emma insists on having.
Putting the car in park, I get out, opening the back door and grabbing my bag. Walking up the small garden path, the front door opens, and Emma’s beaming smile greets me.
“Hi, darling,” she gushes as she pulls me in for a hug when I’m close enough .
“Hey, Em.”
Emma ushers me inside, and I drop my bag in the foyer, planning on taking it up to my room later.
I follow her through the white hallway—plants, vases, and plants adding a splash of color—which leads to an open kitchen with an island in the center.
The double doors off to the right lead out into the backyard and down to the docks.
Sitting on a bar stool, Emma walks to the double fridge and grabs me a can of soda before pouring herself a glass of wine and sitting next to me.
“How’s school?” she asks as she takes a sip of her wine.
Her hazel eyes watch me intently for any signs of a lie. Not that it’s something I do, she just knows how hard school is for me and that I don’t like to talk about it all that much.
I shrug. “It’s fine, classes are a struggle, but I’m managing.”
“Anyone caught your eye?” She smirks around her glass, and I roll my eyes.
“We have this conversation every time I see you,” I chuckle. “No, there isn’t anyone, and if there was… you’d be the first to know.”
Emma goes to say something just as my dad strolls into the room. He’s looking relaxed for once—hair brushed back off his face under his backwards cap, wearing black shorts and a white T-shirt. I don’t get to see him like this often, so it makes a nice change.
“Hi, Dad.” I jump off my stool to greet him.
He opens his arms and envelopes me in a bear hug. “Pumpkin.” Dad draws back, holding me at arm’s length. “I wasn’t expecting you until next week.” He lets me go and scratches the top of his head in confusion.
I laugh. “It is next week, Dad.”
Dad looks at Emma, who has a knowing smirk on her face. One thing about my dad? He tends to forget things when he’s buried in work.
“I knew that,” he jokes as he kisses the top of my head and walks over to Emma, kissing her on her cheek.
Emma made her famous lasagna, and we caught up while eating. For once, neither one of them was called off for one reason or another, and I was able to enjoy their company. After eating way too much chocolate pudding, I say my good nights and pick up my bag from the foyer, heading upstairs.
Tossing my bag on the bed, I head for the shower. Once I’ve finished, I put my pajamas on and climb into bed, exhausted from the drive and socializing.