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“I feel bad for the guy who’ll get chosen,” Aidan says.
I shrug. “He might be the perfect one for her. They say there’s someone for everyone, right? It’s unlikely she’ll find her happily ever after in high school because we’re so young, but you never know.”
The bell rings and we make our way toward Ally’s class. I tell my friends about the other couples that got matched up and they’re all excited for me.
That first place prize at the coding competition is looking really good right now. I’ll have to make room for the trophy on my shelf…move some stuff around…
Yep. I’m ready.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Colton
The guys invited me to hang out at Mikey’s after school, but I’m not really in the mood. I don’t know why.
No, that’s a lie. Lately, I’ve been feeling so out of place when I’m with the guys. So not like myself. The only person I’m completely comfortable with is Willow.
She’s the only one who gets me on a deeper level. I’ve never connected with anyone the way I’ve connected with her.
I grab a few cookies from the kitchen and go up to my room to continue working on my game. I also squeeze in homework here and there.
In the past, I would do anything I could to get out of the house. Just to not be alone. I’m still lonely, but I feel more comfortable here than I would at Mikey’s. I’m not in the mood to listen to the guys talk about things that don’t interest me. Like girls.
Only one girl has been on my mind lately, and she’s not Vanessa.
A few hours pass before I hear the front door open. Dad’s home from work earlier than usual. Maybe he’s tired and wants to turn in soon.
I’m on my feet and go down the stairs quickly before he can hide in his office. But I’m too late. The door’s already shut.
Willow’s right. If I want a relationship with him, I need to take the first step.
I stand before the closed door and just stare at it. At our old home, Dad used to sit me next to him when I was little and show me his work. It was so boring, but I loved spending time with him. Does he even remember those moments? Does he care?
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I lift my knuckles to the door. Then I tap it three times.
No response.
I knock three more times. Again, no answer.
“Dad? Can I come in?”
Nothing.
“I was wondering if you wanted Chinese for dinner,” I continue. “I’m ordering for myself and…are you there, Dad?”
Again, quiet.
Right after Bri died, I worried my mom or dad would be so grief-stricken they would hurt themselves. I’m feeling the same way now with Dad’s lack of response.
I throw the door open and find him bent over papers on his desk. He’s not asleep or hurt. He’s just ignoring me.
It’s like a stab to the heart, but I tell myself he needs time and I need to be patient.
“Dad?” I step into the room. “Are you okay?”
“Yes.” He doesn’t look up.
I walk around the desk until I face him. His gaze is glued to the papers and the only place they move to is his computer. Not me.
