11

I sat next to Kendall on one of the metal stools with black seats, crossing my arms on the table. I noticed the soslaio look that my father threw at me, but I ignored it, looking at the top lamp lit against the dining table.

Stefan Turner, always known as daddy, was a man of principles. Even after his failed marriage, his not so well-known books and months supporting young people in his work as a teacher, he was still an old man, and with that I mean that he failed each of my decisions. He didn't rule me, he never tried to play such a role, and maybe that's what boosted my indomitable instinct. However, I could see in his enviable dark blue eyes the size of his inconformation.

Like every self-respecting father, he wanted the best for me. And the best thing, definitely, was not to go out with several different guys and stick them in my legs. I knew how shameful it would be for him to teach men who have already had sex with his daughter, but it would be difficult not to receive a trial