Storm-grey orbs and honey-brown orbs.
The first pair belongs to my ex-boyfriend; the second, my living nightmare of a stepsister.
Oh, goodness. After the absolute train wreck that went down last night, I honestly thought I wouldn't have to face either of them for a long, long time. But it seems the universe is bent on making me revisit every single one of my old wounds today.
Cherry’s dressed in something that would give a stripper a run for her money–essentially a microscopic strip of denim masquerading as a skirt, and a knit top held together by nothing but prayers. Right now, she’s sitting directly on Shawn’s lap on the waiting chairs in the reception room, arms looped suffocatingly around his neck.
The second she spots us, her bored expression transforms into a malicious sneer. “Oh
