"Dad could we use your car."       She looked at him. Not with the stern or don't keep us waiting kinda look, but with the remember that I'm your only daughter kinda look. Her father's eyes were lit. She knew what that meant. She was acquainted with them. She had been seeing them since forever and could say in details, what the blink of his eye would say. He shouldn't of course withdraw such request. He shouldn't of course deny it. He shouldn't of course make a mountain of the moaning molehill. And damn! She knew that she was safe with that stance. She had ever been. And she would continue being. Though she had lost her mother since like forever, yet he wouldn't make her feel the vacuum. He had filled it with his attention, love and towering graces. He was the definition of a father. Of course he was. He had always been their for her and had made her feel like the bes

  *Truth really be told, what'd you say?*     It's been over thirty minutes since they had been sitting. They could actually use standing or dashing into the wanky waves of the sassy sea, or embracing its hoisted horizon. But seated they were. Of course discussing. What they loved doing. What they were given to. What they wouldn't help doing. Probably because they were art students. Or probably because they were all literature freaks. They wouldn't get tired of talking and talking about literature-oriented subjects. They simply had made themselves pawns to such stances. And of course they didn't regret it. They wouldn't. Why in the wide world would they? But there obviously was one of them who hadn't been in with the discussion. Of course Dreg. He had been busy with his phones. The only thing he had been given to hitherto was the attention to his phone. He was having best time with the little black box. He did sew sassy smirk for his visage occasi

[Mate! You shouldn't have left there.]Was Paul already thinking like the ladies? He wanted to be sure. What did he mean by he shouldn't had left there? Hadn't he seen what they ladies did. Like the way they ganged up against him. As though they were foes and not friends. He didn't want to nurse the feeling tenderly. It would serve him no mercy. He could simply squander his thoughts for nothing. How belittling that would be of him. He couldn't be sure of what to think. He let his rage subside as he sucked the nectar tossed by patience. He looked at Paul. Again. He had been looking at him actually, but he had been looking past him. Like he had been seeing someone else. Probably because his thoughts had had the best part of him. But he knew who Paul was. And matter-of-factly, as he spoke to him, he had a dark smile etched in his visage. The smile was beginning to seem to him as a cliche. But he already knew his kinda friend was acquainted with him. He knew what he was

     "Where'd this guys go?"        His heart was in his mouth. Not because he was afraid. Why would he be? He hadn't seen a ghost or done anything hideous. But he couldn't simply fathom why they would had left him there without telling him. Even if he had been a dickhead, that wasn't enough an excuse to dump him. Matter-of-factly they came there together. He was raged. He knew he was very displeased. He didn't want to think of what to do with them. He could probably quit being friends with them. For why would they simply make a mountain of a molehill? It was nauseating! He was recently snapping outta what Bella had tossed at him. That experience was heavenly. In some parts it was so demonic, but he would love to have it again. He would love to rewind time and have her tits pressed to his chest again. The feeling had been like a picnic in Utopia. But he wouldn't had savored that because he believed that his fr

     "Ihn?"       He wasn't sure of what to do. Whether or not to go to meet them. They were obviously enjoying themselves. He wouldn't want to foil that happiness. He wouldn't want to be a meathead or porous pain in their butts anymore. He could be every other things but those. He didn't want to take illicit chances. The chances of course were lean, and he knew that matter-of-factly. He was just awaiting his patience to play its part, ply its route before he would pass the baton to either his lanky legs or inky instinct. He would make a decision pretty quickly. A part of him wanted to keep standing. A part wanted to join them. A part of him simply wouldn't afford marring their happiness and then would simply go away. He didn't know which demon he was supposed to pay his haughty homage to. But he knew that he was going to succumb to one. He tried as much as possible not to remember what happened between himsel