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Sorry, Daddy
Isabelle
Sprawled out on lounge chairs by the pool, April, Farrah and I soaked up the sun on a beautiful Saturday morning. Today was the big day, the day I’d been looking forward to all week long—the day Rust came home.
But now that it was here, I had a funny feeling in my stomach that something wasn’t quite right.
I checked my phone again.
“Anything?” Farrah asked.
“Still nothing,” I said.
All week long, Rust and I had texted daily. He hadn’t said anything today, nor had he replied to the messages I’d sent him. Not sexy ones, by the way. Just standard little messages like, “good morning!” along with a couple updates and pictures of Minka.
But Rust said nothing. Sure, he was a busy guy—but all week long, he found the time to replyeventually.The fact he was going quiet now, the day he was returning home, had me worried something was wrong.
“I warned you, didn’t I?” Farrah said.
She had. All week long, Farrah had advised me to keep flirting, but cut back on the sexting, to keep Rust interested.
“The problem with sexting a guy that much,” she continued, “is you can snuff out that flame of excitement out before you even get freaky IRL. Plus, some guys are great sexters but horrible in bed. Sexting too much before you fuck for real can be a recipe for disaster.”
“I know, I know. But what should I have done? Asked him to stop sexting me? I likedit. I didn’t want him to stop.” I sighed. “It just doesn’t make sense why he’d go quiet on me all of a sudden.”
“Maybe he never intended to do anything physical with you,” April proffered. “What do we know about Rust? He’s obviously attracted to you. But he’s also conflicted about you, because he’s worried about damaging his friendship with your dad. So maybe he felt comfortable sexting you, because he was a safe distance away, where nothing physical could actually happen. Like he got to scratch that best-friend’s-daughter itch without doing anythingtoowrong. But now that the time’s come for you two to meet in the flesh, his morality is kicking in, and suddenly he’s got cold feet.”
I sighed. “I can see that. You might be right.”
“So you really don’t haveanyidea why he might be acting weird?” Farrah asked. “Nothing weird happened yesterday? No out-of-the-blue comments or anything else that might have pinged your radar?”
“Well.” My head wagged from side to side. “He did mention that he was going to meet up with my dad after his game yesterday.”
April’s mouth cinched into a little O-shape. “Oooooooooooh. Interesting.”
“Yeah, uh-oh,” Farrah mumbled. “That’s definitely got something to do with it. Do you think he confessed to your dad?”
“No way!” I blurted. “I mean, I don’t think so. Because if hedidtell, Dad would probably be blowing my phone up nonstop to yell at me.”
“Unless your dad killed Rust,” Farrah said, “and he hasn’t called you yet because he’s driving out into the woods to find a spot to bury the body.”
“Oh my God,” I whimpered. I didn’tthinkDad would do something like that, but, well …couldhe? Who knew?!
“I don’t think thoughts like those help right now, Farrah,” April said.
My phone chimed with a text message. My heart began to race.
Please don’t be Dad. Please don’t be Dad.
I picked it up and, with a heavy breath of relief, laid my hand over my heart. “Thank God. It’s from Rust.”
His text read,“Hey. Sorry. Got in late last night.”
I replied, “It’s okay! What’s up? How are you? Did you have a fun time last night?”
“I’m good. I’m on the plane. We’re about to take off.”
“Awesome!!”
