AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I didn’t bother to mentionhowI came to have the five grand, but it wasn’t important. As far as they’re concerned, the extra cash was just the security deposit, and that was that.
Why did he leave me his number?
Why would I need to call him?
And what is SPC?
I googled it. I came up with a lot of responses that didn’t seem helpful. There’s a Sicilian Pizza Cafe eight miles away from my house, though, so that’s good to know.
I zone out while shoveling ice cream into my mouth, thinking about the way he touched my cheek, how strangely gratifying it felt when he said that one word:lovely. He didn’t call me pretty or say, ‘you look nice.’ This was different. It was…approval.
What a ridiculous thing to feel so good about, some stranger’s praise. Not even a stranger, really.Beau’s dad.I get a full-body cringe every time I think about it. I mean, yeah, he’s a good-looking guy, but he has to be like…twentyyears older than me. He’s literally my dad’s age. Double ick.
And what exactly was he praising? My face. I hate my traitorous body for how turned on I felt in that moment, but that’s just a natural reaction, right? Because I am a full-fledged, card-carrying, fist-pumping feminist. Thelastthing I need to be satisfied with my life is a man’s approval.
It just felt nice. That doesn’t mean anything.
And the fact that being on my knees for him was comforting is just ingrained generational misogyny. Thanks, patriarchy.
After mulling the situation over in my head, I’ve come to the conclusion that Beau’s dad thought I was a prostitute. It’s the only thing that makes sense. And, apparently, he’s into submissive sex workers, which is cool—I mean, to each their kinky own, right?
So why can’t I stop thinking about it? Why does my brain seem to think there’s something worth hanging on to from this experience? And why did he bother leaving me his phone number?
“To breaking up with Beau,” my little sister announces, holding up the last spoonful of ice cream like she’s making a toast.
“Sophie!” my mom scolds her.
“It’s okay,” I reply. Then I clink my spoon against my sister’s. “He wasn’t any good for me. It’s better to be alone than to be with someone who’s bad for you.”
The table goes silent, and the memory of my dad fills the air like an awkward fog. He left about a year and a half ago, because he couldn’t let his ignorance go. He didn’t approve of the way my sister lives her life, and his own stupidity cost him his family. But we’re better without him, something I remind Sophie of as often as I can.
When love becomes toxic, it’s not love anymore.
And then I went and stayed with Beau for far longer than I should have, three months after I caught him cheating, letting him talk down to me, making me feel like crap, and questioning everything about myself.
So, I can’t exactly blame my sister for wanting to raise a spoon to the breakup.
“You deserve better, Charlie.”
“I know,” I reply, staring at the leftover caramel and chocolate sauce on the plate.
“I think you dated a jerk because you think you deserve a jerk.”
I glance up at her, my brow creased in confusion. “Dude, you’re fourteen! How are you so wise?”
“I read smart books,” she replies with a laugh.
“Oh, then I guess I’ll have to show Mom your e-reader. Let’s see how smart she thinksMating the Werewolfis.”
“What?” my mom asks, tearing her tipsy attention away from the ice left in her margarita glass.
“You brat!” Sophie screams, tossing her napkin at me. Her cheeks are tinged pink from embarrassment, and I can’t keep my laughter in.
* * *
Lying in my pool-house room that night, I can’t stop thinking about what happened today. Before cashing the check, I scrawled his phone number on an old receipt in my purse. I couldn’t seem to part with it yet. It’s held tightly between my fingers, and the tone of his voice rings through my ears like an echo.
Lovely.
