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He swallows thickly, picking up his bottle of beer and swirling it around. He shakes his head. “I don’t know. You just are.” He takes a sip of the beer looking contemplative.
I’m not mad at his answer, because it’s sort of how I feel about him, so I understand.
He leans forward a bit, a smirk tilting his lips on one corner. “Easy one—what’s your favorite color?”
“Yellow,” I answer with a small laugh. “Yours?”
“Navy blue.”
“Interesting,” I muse.
“Why?”
“I expected you to say black.”
“Why?” he laughs.
“Isn’t it the color of debauchery?”
He shrugs. “I wouldn’t know.”
My lips twitch as I try not to laugh. “Funny, I thought you were King of the club.”
“They kicked me out,” he parries easily. “Apparently I’m not as much of a badass as they thought.”
“Really?”
“Yeah—apparently the motorcycle wasn’t enough.”
“You have a motorcycle?” My eyebrows rise in surprise. “I’m intrigued.”
His eyes glint with mischief, that strange amber color flashing. “I’ll take you for a ride some time.”
“Sounds fun.”
This, right now, is too easy. I don’t want to like him. I want to hate him. It would be better for both of us. Despite myself, despite him, I don’t. There’s something about him, about us, that clicks.
As the sky darkens from sunset into the color of night, the lights around the deck twinkle. Below the deck is another seating area and a stage where local artists sometimes play. I can’t help but wonder what the gathered crowd of college students would think of the song The Wild has been working on. It’s a ballad. Slow, sad, but uplifting in a strange way. A reminder we’re never alone, even when we think we are, someone is thinking of us. Someone is in our corner. Someone sees us for who we truly are even when no one else does. I’m surprised they’re releasing it as their first single, it’s a risk, but it’s a beautiful song and my dad seems confident.
My dad.
If he knew I was here, with Hollis, he’d be mad at me but he’d skin Hollis alive. I know I’m an adult. I can hang out with whomever I want. I’m not afraid of my dad, not in the least, but I hate disappointing him and it’s what I’d do if he knew what I was up to. Who I’m spending my time with.
But having dinner with Hollis doesn’t mean I’m going to jump into bed with him.
My dad might not trust Hollis, but what about me? Can he not trust me to make my own judgment call? Does he have so little faith in me?
He’s your dad, Mia. He can’t stand the thought of you with anyone. Get used to it.
It’s true. I could be eighty years old and he’d come back from the grave to tell me I couldn’t date. Sometimes I think he’s even more protective of me than Adalyn when it comes to the male sex, and I’m sure it stems from what happened with my sperm donor—the fear he felt at the thought of losing me. What he fails to understand is one day when I meet the right guy, fall in love, and get married he’s not losing me, he’s gaining something entirely new.
“What’s wrong?” he asks and my thoughts evaporate like smoke.
“Nothing—I was thinking.”
“About what?” He leans back in the barstool, completely at ease.
“My dad,” I admit. “I wish he could understand I’m not a little girl anymore. I’m going to leave the nest one day.”
