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Speaking of which… Noah’s flying out of the city tonight—it’s work related. He mentioned having to meet with a client in Seattle and won’t be back until Monday afternoon. This makes it convenient for me, because I plan to fly back to New York tomorrow evening. I’ve bought my ticket in advance, and no one knows about it. That’s why I won’t be attending grad. I don’t want to stay here unless I have to. Now that I’ve finishedmy exams, I’ve technically graduated. My diploma will be sent in the mail.
Mom and Rob won’t be expecting me, of course. I suppose I’ll visit eventually as an “unwelcome surprise”—just to say hi.It can’t be that bad. Not as bad as what I go through when I’m around Noah. I’ll have to survive the humid months of summer until school starts. Then I can move into a dorm with a roommate. Noah will inevitably find out that I’ve left, but it’ll be too late. He’ll get on the next flight out to New York and try to convince me to come back, but I’ll refuse. I can’t live like this anymore. We’re constantly around each other, the sexual tension never goes away, and I’m madly in love with him. It’s morally wrong, but it’s what my heart feels, and I can’t change it. I can’t hug him and feel normal, daughterly feelings. They just don’t exist, and no amount of therapy will ever fix that.
Every time I look at him, I think about undressing him. Every time I kiss his cheek, the memories of our passionate kisses flicker in my mind. Anytime he touches me, my skin flares up in heat. I’m in love with him, and I wish I wasn’t. I’ve been trying to keep things amicable between us, but that has been an epic fail. I’m his biological daughter, but I blind myself to it. Noah feels like my twin flame, and I wish he could see me the same way I see him. We constantly see through each other; we finish each other’s sentences; and we think the same thoughts (most of the time). We’re so compatible, it’s unreal, despite our age difference and the tragic genetic factors.
I don’t want kids. He and I could always adopt. I just want him. All of him. Maybe it’s selfish of me to leave like this but loving him this way is agonizing. It’s wrong in the eyes of God and society, but it doesn’t feel wrong in my heart and soul.
Last week, Jess and I went shopping and finally picked out our prom dresses. I bought this beautiful red gown with sequins along the train of the dress. It’s strapless with a slim fittingbodice and open back. The gown seemed as if it were made just for me when I had tried it on at the dress shop. Jess had told me I looked like a beauty pageant winner. She’s such a sweetheart and has been a good friend to me. I’ll miss her when I leave California, but I’ll make sure to keep in touch with her.
Anyway, I digress… I’ve calculated a way to hook up with Ryan Taylor. As cliché and disastrous as it sounds to have sex on prom night, I really don’t care, even if I am self-sabotaging. Ryan thinks I’ll be attending Berkley as well in the fall, but we’re not officially an item, so I don’t feel obligated to tell him about my plans to run away. We’ll have a little after-party of our own when the prom is over. It was nice of him to reserve us a suite at the hotel. Noah will be away all weekend, so I won’t have to worry about him finding out—and Vanessa just doesn’t give a shit about what I do and where I go. She’ll probably end up going out tonight or will most likely meet up with that asshole she’s been spreading her legs for. It’s so unfair how she’s getting away with this. I wish Noah would believe me. I’m done trying to convince him.
He replaced my phone weeks ago and told me that if I ever contacted Evan or saw him again, he would confiscate my cell, effective immediately. I had sent my uncle an email explaining the circumstances I was in—that’s why I haven’t seen him in weeks. It doesn’t matter, anyway; once I’m in New York, I’m free to do whatever and won’t be using this stupid iPhone.
These past two weeks have been strange. I’m not sure if it’s just paranoia, but I keep thinking I’m being followed every time I’m out in public. I constantly look over my shoulder and no one will be there, of course. It doesn’t help that I keep having these reoccurring nightmares about Rob. I guess that’s because I’m returning to New York.
Steph and I haven’t been on speaking terms since that incident at The Velvet Lounge. She tried to isolate me fromeverybody at school, just as I suspected, but Ryan’s friends love me, so the tramp failed in that aspect.
It’s almost time to go, and I still have to finish getting ready. Jessica’s dress is so beautiful. The design is almost like mine, except it’s royal blue and has a shoulder strap. The open back isn’t as revealing, and the train of the dress is shorter. All those hours shopping for the perfect prom dress were worth it.
I don’t know why I want to sleep with Ryan. Maybe I just want to destroy what remains of my innocence. Maybe I want to get back at Noah… or maybe I genuinely don’t give a shit anymore. I wish I could wake up to an alternate reality where Noah would be mine, and we could live on this beautiful island, far away from the rest of the world, in our own little paradise. We’d make love on the sand as the ocean tide turned in, soaking our bodies while we coupled together. My love for him would flow into his body as fast as the water flowing upon the shore. I would gaze up at a vanilla sky and surrender to every pleasurable sensation.
Insert sigh here:___________ (IN BIG CAPITAL LETTERS.)
I need to get him out of my head. Why can’t I be a normal person and obsess over sexy artists and actors?
Until next time… which will probably be in The Big Apple,
-Eternally depressed:(((
Closing my diary, I forced myself to cheer up. I still had half an hour to kill before my friends would arrive. Spending time at the spa and beauty salon with Jess had been fun (aside from the painful Brazilian wax). That was the price to pay for beauty. I just wanted to look and feel perfect because it was my big night. I don’t think any guy would want to go down on a girl, only to cringe and realize he needs a weed whacker before engaging in sexual activities. I’m all for girl power, but refusing to groomyour lady parts and armpits is just wrong! I mean, sure, we’re born with all this hair on our body—some more than others, but doesn’t it feel more hygienic when you wax or shave? I can’t imagine feeling sexy wearing lingerie and strutting around with prickly legs. Maybe it truly is all social construct and gender norms. Imagine a world where people are made fun of for having no hair on their body, and the super hairy individuals are only labeled as beautiful and sexy. Okay, that made me laugh a little inside.
Forcing myself to come back down from whatever warped universe I had ventured to, all my weird and un-sexy thoughts instantly disappeared when Noah stepped into my room.
“Wow!” he said, admiring my figure. “You look…”
I turned away from my tall length mirror and met his gaze, holding my breath.
“Stunning,” he confessed with a smile. “Absolutely breathtaking.”
“Thank you,” I muttered.
“You are beyond the vision of beauty.”
Why do you have to be so charming right now?
Because it’s your prom, and he’s trying to be a wonderful dad!My conscience answered.
Iwas still low-key mad at him, but my expression gave nothing away. In the passing months, I had studied the eternal poker face of Noah Hunter, taking notes to master his body language. After much needed practice as his silent apprentice, I was now a master at disguising my emotions. I could hide my feelings just as well as he could.
The lady from the salon had done an amazing job of styling my hair. I’d gone against the traditional look and had it down in big bouncy waves and curls. The makeup artist had glued a temporary tattoo of a masquerade mask around my forehead and cheekbones. It was all black and elegantly designed toaugment my eyes and winged eyeliner, which added a pleasant contrast to the ruby gloss that shimmered on my lips. The smoky eye shadow bumped up my age a couple years. My entire ensemble made me feel beautiful.
Noah was staring at me, which made me nervous. Rubbing my arm out of habit, I noticed him pull out a long velvet box from his back jean pocket.
“I got you something.” He smiled.
“Why?”
“Because you aced your SAT, passed your most crucial academic year, and earned yourself a scholarship. Let’s not forget that tonight’s a big deal for you.” Stepping closer, he was now inches away from my face. “I guess you could say the main reason I’m gifting you with this extravagant piece of jewelry is because you’re my daughter, and I love to spoil you.” He opened the box. “You deserve this.”
