Texas Girl (Pt 59)

Short but um... Powerful haha ;) x

Drew's POV
I stood in front of the full length mirror, holding the third dress up to my small frame. I wish I was curvier. I mean, I have quite a nice waist, and my hips are ok, I guess, but I might as well be an eight year old with breasts my size.
The flimsy grey fabric looked boring and sallow against me, and I sighed, throwing the dress down on the bed beside Pattie.
"I think the first one was the best" she commented, her shoes kicked off on the wooden floor.
The first dress was a pale, baby blue, with a brown belt to accentuate my waist. I glanced over at the pretty fabric hung up on the door.
"It's too fun and quirky. I want to look mature, I'm trying to tell my Poppa I'm getting married at sixteen. I could at least look eighteen" I sighed, beginning to pace the room in my underwear.
Pattie stood confidently and began to rifle through the wardrobe, the sound of clattering hangers ringing through my ears.
Why am I so stressed? I just want to collapse on the sofa with a massive homemade apple pie. I might be dreading seeing Poppa tonight, but as soon as Mamaw gets here, she is making me pie, no buts. I fell down on the edge of the bed, resisting the urge to spread myself out and sleep for a hundred hours.
"This one. This is perfect" Pattie turned to me, and my eyes widened as she held up a beautiful dress.
It wasn't too short, maybe just above the knee, in a rich burgundy sort of red. White lace lined the bottom and top hem, decorative and ornate. The dress was pulled in at the waist, a thin bow tied in the same floaty material as the dress itself. It was perfect. Mature yet girly, modern yet vintage, and fun-loving yet serious.
"It's amazing" I gasped, energy suddenly flowing through me at the sight of the perfect dress.
Pattie handed me the garment with a huge grin, and I pulled it on, teaming it with fluffy wedge boots and pinning a few strands of my red hair back. Add some make-up, and then all I had to do was wait.

"So how've you been Drew, with your Schizophrenia and everything?" my Mother asked, curling her hands around the steamy hot mug. I shuffled about in my seat on the sofa, finding the topic of my mental illness an uncomfortable one. Justin, being the saviour he is, answered for me.
"She's been great, perfect, actually" he replied, his arm wrapped maturely around my waist. I didn't want to give off too much of a naive vibe, but I also didn't want an inappropriate vibe. We'd decided that around the hip was inappropriate, and that around the shoulder was just naive.
I swear I was hyperventilating. I seemed to cover it well though, with a simple smile and a happy gleam to my grey eyes, my dress catching most of the attention instead of my breathing pace.
"Have you been taking your medication?" my Mother continued to query, and honestly, it was deeply getting on my nerves. She was treating me like a mental patient, asking me stupid questions as if I was a toddler. I swear if she uses that motherly tone with me one more time, I'm just going to end up blurting it out.
Justin gave me a look that read "Deep breaths, it's all okay". I was having a hard time believing it.
"Yeah, I have" I smiled, my tone fakely pleasant and almost grumbling.
"So there's no hallucinating then?".
That's it. I can't take it any more.
"I'm getting married" I blurted.
The entire room went silent. My Mamaw and Poppa stopped their own little conversation to stare at me, wide-eyed.
I didn't care how they felt. I felt amazing. I was getting married to the most perfect, funny, sweet, handsome guy on the planet, and there was nobody left to hide it from.
Justin stared awkwardly around the room, trying to avoid the steely hard glare my Poppa had immediately given him as soon as the words passed my lips. I know that the way I told them wasn't exactly convenient for him, as he wanted us to tell them together, and preferably on Christmas day, but I just couldn't help it.
"You're what sweetheart?" my Mamaw asked like the angel she was, her tone optimistic as she took in my words once more.
"I'm marrying Justin". Wow, it sounded even better the second time. Can someone say "What?" so I can say it again? No? Ok.
In a split second, there were three different reactions, ranking from highest to lowest on my scale:
1. Mamaw squealed. Like an eight year old girl who had just inherited a small puppy dog.
2. My Mother grinned like she'd won the lottery but had been put on mute.
3. Poppa lunged. At Justin.
In all of three seconds, Poppa's fist had come into contact with Justin's left eye, knocking him past me and onto the carpeted floor. Is it wrong for me to notice he had a soft landing? Yes? Alright then, I'll shut up now.
Justin clambered up from the ground, clutching his eye as Poppa unexpectedly swung again, taking Justin by surprise and landing a hit in his jaw.
I heard that. That is truly disgusting. It's a mixture of bone dislocating, teeth cracking and fists crunching. Justin only had to swing back once to land the perfect hook in my Poppa's nose.
I was so conflicted right now. My fiancé and my Poppa. Who should I pull off who first? I ended up with a compromise, and so did my Mother, as we both jumped into the middle of them, just after Poppa rebounded and smashed Justin hard in the nose.
That's a lot of blood.
I think I might faint.
I stumbled around the room as my Mother pulled my fighting family apart, pushing Justin to one side of the room and my Poppa to the other.
Mamaw was at my side in a flash, holding me up as I watched Justin's nose trickle with head-aching red blood. This is going to be a long night.

I ran the cold tap over the flannel until it was soaked, folding it up into a little pad as Justin leant against the counter beside the bathroom sink.
"I got my ass totally kicked by a seventy eight year old" he repeated for the third time, still unable to believe it himself.
I ignored his fascination with defeat and stood in front of him.
"Take your shirt off" I mumbled quietly, waiting patiently as he de-clothed himself, settling back against the counter once he had dropped the t-shirt to the floor.
I pressed the cold towel to just below his left eye, applying gentle pressure.
Justin sucked a sharp breath in through his teeth, his grip on the counter tightening.
"Sorry" I muttered, changing my tactics to soft yet precise dabs. We stood in silence for a while, Justin's jaw bruising faster than his eye. I planned to heal there second.
"You ok?" came his low mumble, mood deflating to the same level as mine at that moment in time.
"No. Are you?".
"No".
More silence as I pressed the cold flannel to his jaw. I noticed another droplet of blood begin to make it's way down his upper lip, and immediately wiped it gently away, my spare hand holding onto his bare shoulder.
"Your Pops really wasn't happy about it was he?".
"Mamaw said he thought you'd got me pregnant, and he'd said he was sorry once he'd realised you hadn't" I managed a soft giggle, placing the flannel back on his eye as he began to squint from the pain.
"Well, I look forward to the day where he beats me up because you are actually pregnant" he smiled back softly, making me roll my eyes and blush.
"You're so cheesy" I giggled, my mood improving slightly as we laughed and joked about with one and other.
Once Justin's face was painless enough for him to sleep, we stripped down and clambered into bed, holding each other tight as we drifted off into a problem-free sleep <3

Next part is Friday night, I got a sleepover with a mate tomorrow, sorry guys! <3 x