He Was Never Supposed To Stay
I whined, my stomach growling at the smell of syrup and bacon.
“Because your skirt’s too short, and we need to get you a new one,” Mom sang.
I slumped onto the counter, elbows down, palms pressed to my red-hot cheeks. I could feel Carmelo’s eyes burning through me.
“It’s *not* that short,” I grumbled, sneaking a glance at him. Big mistake. His stare was sharp and unblinking. I looked back at Mom instantly.
“If you bend over just a little, I’d be seeing your butt,” she pointed out.
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