The drive to Becks house, familiar as it was, felt longer than usual. The backseat was filled with scattered things, clothes, books, a bag, whatever she could find and shove away quickly enough. She had even managed to get it somewhat packed before she’d heard the familiar sound of her fathers car pulling into the driveway. Her phone and laptop were the last things she’d managed to grab before he came up the stairs and found her, and it had been a struggle getting away.
But she’d managed it. He’d even given his blessing (that is, of course, if you consider yelling ‘get the fuck out then’ a blessing.) and now she was having second thoughts. Living with Beck, of all people, especially after getting dumped didn’t seem like the best idea, considering.
But it was like she kept hearing: Where else could she go.