Chapter 8

Whitney

The next morning, I woke up with my body aching. A hoarse groan of pain left my lips as I stretched my body, hearing slight cracking sounds fill the air.

I had spent the night tossing and turning, unable to sleep until the clock hit four in the morning. My eyes glanced at the clock above the door. Seven-thirty.

The bed I sat on was seductive, tempting me to stay. Pillows scattered, blanket disarranged. I wanted nothing more than to sleep in, but I knew my dad would give me hell if I missed even just a day at school. He said that it was too important for me to miss.

Getting up, I threw on the school uniform that I hung neatly. It wasn't much, just a white button-up, a black A-line skirt, and a navy blazer. The dark circles under my eyes made me cringe. I looked absolutely terrible. It was days like this when I wanted to hide myself from the world. Taking a deep breath, I tried to think positive and forced a smile on my face to lighten up my mood. My hair was down in its natural waves, letting it rest from having it up the whole week.

The smell of pancakes hit my nose and I found my father making breakfast, adorning the mint blue apron with eggs and bacon in the center that my mother used to wear all the time when I was a kid. The tip of my lips curled up at the sight.

I was eight years old when my mom died of a car accident. Coping with her loss was one of the most difficult things my father and I had to go through. I remembered my father having to pick me up at school early due to my sudden breakdowns in the middle of class. It was hard but the wound had slowly healed as time passed.

"Morning sunshine," I heard my father greet, a warm smile on his face and the skin near his eyes wrinkling ,"You look exhausted. School keeping you up, huh?"

"Mhm." I hummed, not meeting his eyes as I took a seat. Truth was, my mind was all over the place because of what happened not even 24 hours before with Blair's words ringing in my head.

The atmosphere was calm. I thanked my father when he handed me a plate of food and he took a seat beside me. "It's been awhile since I last you. Coffee?" I nodded, muttering a thank you. I watched him grab the coffee pot and pour himself a cup first. "How've you been, hm? Please don't tell me you've been spending most of your time cooped up in your room."

Heat rose to my cheeks in embarrasment as I positioned the cup near my lips, the aroma hitting my nostrils. I let out a strained laugh, "Okay then I won't tell you."

He chuckled, shaking his head in feign disapproval. "You know, most girls your age would sneak out the house late at night to go out with their boyfriend or something."

A smile lit up my face while I cut the pancake into smaller pieces. "I think we've already established that I'm not like most of the girls my age."

"I don't know if I should be glad or if I should be worried." my father joked, his eyes bright and gleaming. My eyebrows furrowed at this. I analyzed him and his movements for a few minutes. He seemed genuinely happy. In fact, he was even glowing. And it wasn't the 'I got a raise' type of glow or the 'I just bought myself a new barcalounger' glow either. It took me a moment until it hit me-

"You met someone."

He practically choked on his food when the words flew out of my mouth. "Wow, okay. Now what makes you say that?" he wondered, the look in his eyes confirming my assumption.

A loud laugh erupted from him as my mouth hung open. "Dad!" I squealed, "I'm so happy for you. Who's the lucky woman and when can I meet her?"

"I met her the other night at your uncle's gallery. She's um...a pretty private woman, so I don't know if she's okay with meeting my only child yet." he informed me, causing me to frown at his words.

"A 'pretty private' woman? Who is this?" my curiosity was growing stronger by the minute. It wasn't like my father to find interest in someone like the woman he had just described.

"Her name is Stephanie. She said we can't publicly announce our relationship yet though because she's still getting out of a marriage with her husband."

Well, that explains it- I thought. Since the death of my mother, it had been hard for him to find someone. I always reassured him that she would've wanted him to be happy, and that it was okay with me if he dated other people.

The rest of the day felt awfully slow. I was antsy to go home so that I could stop avoiding Blair and her friends. I was putting some books in my locker when I heard someone call for me. I turned my head to find Amara.

"Whit, hey! How are you?" she asked, observing me.

"I'n fine, thanks. Sorry that I fell off the face of the earth for a bit though." I chuckled.

She shook her head, a smile playing on her lips. "It's alright. Lola was just worried," suddenly her expression turned serious and her voice lowered an octave, "Delilah told me what happened."

I was speechless for a few seconds before I cleared my throat. "O-Oh. She did?"

"I'm so sorry that you were dragged into their mess. You weren't even supposed to be included! They haven't you know... confronted you yet, right?" she interrogated. Confronted me yet? Yet?

"Why? Are they planning to?" I asked, my voice wobbly with worry.

"God, I hope not! You know what happens to the people who mess with them, right?" I nodded, feeling all the colour on my face drain. "Stay low and don't let Blair see you. Not until a week or two has passed. Promise you'll be okay?"

"Yeah." I told her, my grip on the locker getting tighter.