Dad glances over, completely unmoved, and turns another page. "Very popular, apparently. Men like you do very well in those circles. The uniform doesn't hurt either, I'd imagine."
"I cannot believe this is my life."
I try to shut him out, try to find any thread of this conversation that makes sense, try to remember a time when my father wasn't the most exhausting person I know.
"I'm just saying," he continues mildly. "Options exist."
"Where are you even getting this? Why would you even say the word thirst trap to me?"
Dad grins. Wide and completely shameless, the same grin he's had since I was small, the one that means he's won and he knows it. "She's very educational, that girl."
I scoff, because of course that's where this is headed. Of course it is.
"She shows me videos on the short app, where people also dance," he adds.
"This is not happening."
"And we have very good conversations." He glances at me over the top of his book, eyes sharp, knowing. "She's good company. I miss her when she doesn't come around."
A whistle blows on the TV. I couldn't tell you who's playing or what the call was. I'm too busy picking at a thread on the couch cushion, not saying anything for long enough that I probably should have left it alone.
Don't say it. Don't give him the satisfaction.
"She'll be out tonight. With the group."
Damn it.
"Mm." Dad turns a page. "Shame you're so tired."
I drag my gaze back to the screen. "Forget it."
He doesn't look up. "I'm just noting the coincidence..."
"There's no coincidence," I snap. "I'm tired and she's out and those two things have nothing to do with each other."
Dad doesn't comment. He just tilts his head, brows up,eyes back on the page like the book is suddenly the most fascinating thing in the room.
"I worry," he says, and the grin is gone now. His voice is almost gentle in a way that catches me off guard. "About her being out in town without anyone looking out for her. Some of the men in this town have no sense, I tell ya."
He closes the book over his thumb, meets my eyes. "And you know she is just the prettiest girl this town has seen in a long time. I worry, that's all."
I can't tell if this is fatherly concern or just the next play. I keep my eyes on the screen, give him nothing.
"Rome will be there," I grunt, needing him to stop saying her name before I lose what's left of my patience.
"Rome. Yes. He will keep the obvious ones at bay." A pause, perfectly timed. I shake my head because here it comes. "Is that what's keeping you home tonight, you think? Rome keeping you at bay?"
I refuse to let this man rage bait me. I keep my eyes straight on the TV and refuse to entertain him.
"Because if it's nothing," he continues, turning another page with maddening calm, "then it shouldn't matter who's there. You'd just go and have a drink with your friends like any other Friday."
He picks up his book, opens it to a random page, starts reading again.
"It is nothing," I say through my teeth. "And put that goddamn book down. I know you're not reading it."
"Cal." He says it gently, and I roll my eyes because I outgrew this man when I was seventeen years old and he still knows how to make me feel like I'm six. "I see how you look at that girl."
I'm on my feet before I know I'm moving, my whole body coiled like something waiting to snap.
