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“Oh my God, Chris! Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I just did.” He grins in that charming, lighthearted way and I’m so happy for that. I’m happy that I didn’t hurt him to the point of taking away his beautiful smile.
“I’m so glad we get to spend time together.”
“I thought you’d be all over getting rid of me.”
“Of course not! We can be friends, right?”
He clinks his iced coffee against my drink. “Sure thing.”
We fall into an easy conversation, which isn’t anything new. Chris and I have always gotten along, which is why he asked me out, saying he wanted to take it to the next level. That obviously didn’t work, so I’m thankful that we can still have a friendly relationship.
We talk about college and exams and where our colleagues are doing their internships. He tells me about the interviewing process at W&S and how hard it was, but he passed because he impressed them and he’s a genius.
It’s great to know that I won’t be a lonely face in the midst of all the hostile interns. With Chris around, I’ll have a more tolerable summer.
We go shopping for a few suits since he can’t just show up in his leather jacket, though it’s a killer look. Then I end up buying a few things for myself. I lose track of time in all the shopping we do, but I don’t mind.
Being preoccupied is nice. I’m the type who shouldn’t be given too much free time, because it’ll all be spent on overthinking until I drive myself insane.
By the time Chris drops me off at home, it’s late. I take a few moments to pull my pencil skirt down my thighs. I had to hitch it up so that I could ride behind him, and used the bags to cover up. Apparently, pencil skirts and Harleys aren’t best friends.
My hair is enemies with the helmet, too, because it gets stuck inside it. For the third time today.
“Stupid hair.” I groan as I struggle to untangle it without ripping it from the roots.
Chris chuckles and slides down from his bike to take over the task. He’s gentler than I am and manages to remove the helmet without pulling out my hair.
“You’re supposed to be patient, Gwen.”
“Isn’t that another word for boring?”
He shakes his head as he smooths down my hair.
“Thanks, Chris. For everything.”
He wraps his arms around me. “I’ve got you.”
I hug him back. “Now I’m feeling like I’m using you.”
“I’m the one who’s using you so that you’ll give me a permanent job when you own W&S.”
I push back, laughing. “They’ll be lucky to have you.”
“I’m holding you to that.” He ruffles my hair before he hops on his bike. The sound of the revving engine echoes in the air as he leaves, and I remain there, waving, until he disappears out of sight.
Then I tiptoe to the entrance because Dad will totally have my ass for being late and riding on a bike.
My shoulders hunch when I open the front door.
Right. Dad isn’t here anymore. I think I’m still in denial about it all, because every day, I wake up thinking I’ll find him in the kitchen or that he’ll be banging on my door, telling me I’m late for school.
In my mind, my dad’s still here. He’ll come back, because that’s what dads do. They stay.
They don’t leave like moms do.
My dad won’t abandon me like she did.
