I Shouldn't Feel This Way- Chapter 1 - Sex Stories

I Shouldn't Feel This Way- Chapter 1

... grandparents always trash-talked him and his family. I was in no way, shape, or form prepared to have a conversation with him. So I hung up. Ten seconds later, the phone rang again. My heart was racing a mile a minute and my hands were shaking. Mustering up all the courage that I could find, I braced myself for confrontation and picked up the phone. “Stop calling me! I don’t want to talk to you! I don’t even know you!” There were tears in my eyes and I felt so stupid for getting emotional. “Aria, wait! Don’t hang up, please hear me out, I—” “No!” I wiped my angry tears and looked out the window. “You waited all this time to realize that I existed? You’re seventeen years too late!” “I just …” But I didn’t want to hear his excuses. I told him off before disconnecting again. How was this happening? Why was this happening? What did he want from me? The only information my mother had ever given me about my father was that he was her high school sweetheart, knocked her up at sixteen, and avoided taking responsibility like he should have done. I couldn’t study anymore. I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t do anything. I needed Mom to get home so that I could put phase one of Operation Truth Serum in action. She had all the answers to my questions, and I deserved honesty. Why was Noah Hunter suddenly looking me up out of the blue? I couldn’t figure it out on my own. I had to wait for Mom. ~oOo~ Well, I waited … and waited, constantly staring up at the ugly bird clock Rob had got my mother ...

... about ten Christmases earlier. I was sitting in a chair across our small dining table, attempting to finish my homework, when the front door unlocked. It was seven o’clock, which meant that Rob wouldn’t be home for another three hours. My nerves were getting the best of me, but I tried to remain calm as my mother walked in. She was only an inch shorter than me, thin framed, and her eyes were blue, fading to alabaster gray. Unlike my long, dark locks, her hair was short and wavy, and she had dyed it ashy blonde. The roots needed some retouching. Her skin was very pale, but that was to be expected during the winter season in New York. Her best feature was her face. Regardless of the wrinkles that were starting to crease her forehead, she looked beautiful. My mother was the kind of woman who didn’t need makeup to turn heads. I really couldn’t understand what she saw in my stepdad. He wasn’t the most attractive-looking man—a bit overweight, probably because of all that beer he drank every day, and he had lost a lot of his hair (which explained the big bald spot). His eyes were brown, his face was clean shaven, and he had a raspy voice when he spoke. Rob had a gambling addiction. He was also an alcoholic in denial. “Hey, sweetheart, can you help me with these grocery bags?” I said nothing and rose to my feet, grabbed a brown paper bag, and followed my mom into our claustrophobic kitchen. “I’m making fettuccine Alfredo tonight. How does that sound?” She was chipper. However, I ...