What Hurts The Most [Austin Mahone Fan Fiction]

What Hurts The Most: Number 3

What Hurts The Most: Number 3

“Mom, are you seriously going to make me miss school for a photography shoot,” I raised my eyebrows at her, my laptop resting on my left forearm and my backpack on my left shoulder; Robert was beside me, biting his lip trying to hold back a chuckle.

            “Yes, and you’re going to the photo shoot,” she rolled her eyes.

            I groaned. “But, mom! Why can’t we do it over the weekend, like how we did last year?”

            “Not at all my sweet pea,” she sang, exiting the kitchen, with a smile on her face. “Just wear your lazy day clothes.”

            Robert started laughing, making me frown, but shortly smirk at him, with amusement in my eyes.

            “What,” he asked, controlling his laugh.

            “You have you buy me the Twix Frap. with your own money,” I laughed, also leaving the kitchen.

            “No no no no no no, not one chance!”

            “Ya-ha, we made a deal with this, remember?” I smirked, giving him the ingredients for my drink.

            “But you won’t be at school, which means no Austin,” he fake cried.

            “To be honest, I don’t feel like seeing anybody right now; I don’t have to see him nor Reagan, so I’m good! And for History, the answer for number thirteen is A,” I laughed, going to my room and closing the door. I jumped on my bed, with my legs in the air, and my eyes fixed on the fan above me. I didn’t feel like seeing Austin or Reagan, and I mean it; yeah, Austin thinks I’m nice and such, but I don’t need to be falling for him at the current moment.

            “Claire, Claire!” I heard my mom shout.

            I quickly got up, threw my laptop on my pillows and ran out of my room; I ran to my mom’s room, not finding her there nor the bathroom, I went to Robert’s room, and she wasn’t there either, I was running around the hallways before I crashed into my little brother-Logan.

            “Hey Logan, do you know where mom is?” I asked him, bending down so we can be the same height.

            He nodded.

            “Where is she,” I asked.

            “Santana’s room, she doesn’t want me going in there,” he stated, going to his room.