too many white lines and white lies ♤

afamiliardog:

“God doesn’t answer the bigger boob prayer for another five years– save your breathe,” Andrea mumbled to herself,”..speaking from personal experience.”

The younger girl snickered at her cousin, taking a seat at the pew in front of her before turning around with a smile. "Actually, it does - it's called a push up bra."

“Name him after one of those band members you like. And mom was always about you growing up normal. So maybe you didn’t get the white picket fence, but a dog is nice. I always kinda wanted one myself.“

"For now I'm just gonna call him Temp - Temporary until he has an official name. If that's the case, how about we share custody? I'm already over at your place more than I am at mom's."

With her forehead pressed against the pew in front of her, Andrea didn’t see who sat down, the sound of the creaking seat and condescending snickers pulling her out of her pseudo-prayer. “Hey! I’m trying to do something here, if you don’t mind…  ”

Dylan's heels clacked with each step she took through the church up towards the front. She'd be stopped, however, by the Hey! that echoed. "Hey! Guess what? So am I."

Reaching behind the counter, Razor grabbed for a bottle of whiskey and a bottle of Jack Daniels. Ingredients always at the ready for a few drinks, the Capo mixed two for the both of them and handed a glass to the young woman. “I don’t think we had a proper introduction. You can call me Razor,” she introduced, tipping her drink toward in greeting before taking a drink. More alcohol than anything else, it left a familiar and welcomed burn.

Growing up for the most part in France, drinking 'underage' wasn't anything strange to Dylan. In fact, it was actually strange to her that people in the states looked upon it as they did. The taste as she took a small sip of the strong beverage would burn right down her throat though. "Razor, cool. Is there a reason you're called Razor?" the teen asked with genuine interest. "I'm Dylan."

“He’s yours. The naming’s all on you.“

"I'm gonna have to think about it, maybe ask a friend for advice… Let's just hope he doesn't pee on mom's carpet in the meantime."

“But not there yet? I guess you’re second in command to another preppy blonde?” Ryan shrugged. “Can’t say it’s true. Marriage tends to put a cap on potential partners.”

"I moved here recently, it's the end of the school year, next year is Senior year - thus, my reign." she wasn't worried about it, she'd built up her reputation, knew the difference between running and leaping towards the finish line, one had the more likely possibility of landing face first. "You're married? You seem pretty young, not that, that's a bad thing."

“Well, looks like you caught me on a good day. Lucky you. What’s up?”

"Don't think I've ever caught you on a bad day. Does that make me extra lucky?"

“Ah, cheerleading. You the head bitch in charge?” Ryan laughed. “You assume I drop my pants for anyone with a pretty face.”

"Not quite yet, but next year I will be. And hey, I didn't say it - you did."

“Parent, then. What, were they too preoccupied to enforce a healthy sleeping schedule? Bedtime or not, there’s a curfew.”

“Believe it or not, not every parent aspires to be the next Adolf Hitler.”

“Figured it was about time, considering we’re planting our roots here for awhile. If you don’t like him we could trade him for a cat. One of those hairless ones that won’t shed on my clothes.“

"Cats are for closers and crazy old women who are destined to otherwise die forever alone. I think I'll keep him - did you name him yet?!"

"You bought me a puppy!"