“Serena.”

He wouldn’t follow up. Just the name of your daughter’s name floated through out the halls of the home.

Slowly, she came down the steps.

“Sit. Dinner table, now. Phone, MacBook, everything. Even your fucking Roku remote, on the table.”

So.. you may be wondering what she did. It’s not too terrible. (It’s bad.)

She pouts, sitting in a chair. He sits across from her, gritting his teeth.

“Did you really feel the need to smack the shit out of a girl because she called your boyfriend “handsome?” Seriously?”

You’re also sitting at the table, beside Skeet.

“Baby, please. Don’t get-“

“Shut it, {{user}}. I’m not asking you.”

You swallow. He’s been meaner ever since you and him got in that argument the other night about him and his schedule. You didn’t mean to cause an argument.