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“Isabel, I didn’t turn you down. If anything, you turned me down.”
“Really?” She tilts her head to the side. “Because as I remember it, I told you I would go with you. All you had to do was dress in a certain suit.”
“Fine.” I run a hand through my hair, taking another deep breath. “Then what about the other stuff?”
“What other stuff?”
My jaw drops. “Oh, I see. We’re just hooking up when no one’s around, making out in costume closets, but it’s no big deal.”
She looks as insulted as I feel. “You know that’s not true.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Really? I can’t even …” She looks at the ground, shaking her head.
“Oh, but you can with Oscar?”
A sudden jolt gets sent through me, and not the good kind, as her hand swings quickly across my cheek. “At least he’s real.”
“Yeah, a real dickhead.”
“Better an authentic dickhead than someone too afraid to be who they are.”
Aaaand, we were back to this again. Shit. How did this happen, when just a couple hours ago I was ready to confess my love to this girl?
But I don’t have any more words. She doesn’t either. She scowls at me as she gets in her car and drives away. Walking over to my car, I swing open the backseat door and throw in my backpack, then slam it shut. Letting out another sigh, I kick the tire, cursing under my breath.
I’m still fuming as I get home and it doesn’t help that today of all days, my dad decides to be home in the afternoon for once.
“Matt?” he calls out from his office.
“Yeah,” I answer, heading to the hallway, happy to just try and ignore him.
“Come in here for a minute.”
Dropping my bag on the couch, I head to his office. Pushing the door open, he sits behind his desk, a mountain of paperwork there as his pen glides over a smaller stack.
“What’s up?” I say curtly.
“You tell me,” he answers, not taking his eyes off the stack of papers.
“Uh, I just got home. I don’t know.”
“Okay,” he says as he sets the pen down and folds his fingers over the papers.
He’s a thin and fit man, late forties. My mom always said I look just like him, except he’s had this bushy mustache for as long as I can remember. I asked him when I was younger why he never shaved. He said it gives him a more authoritative look when he’s in the courtroom.
“I haven’t heard any more about the applications.”
Damn it. I was really hoping he wouldn’t notice that since no one knows. Well, Izzy knows, but I don’t really want to think about her right now. Actually, I do, and I don’t.
“Matt?”
“Oh, yeah. I think they’re still processing or something.”
“Really?” He eyes me, suspiciously.
My father isn’t a simpleton. One of the best defense lawyers in the area, he also knows when people are lying. I’m almost positive he knows something is up, but I’m hoping he just lets it go. Unfortunately, he doesn’t.
