Page 22 of Not Your Little Girl Anymore

Pathetic.

That’s how I feel.

Sucking in a large amount of air, I hold it in for a second before blowing out, then grab my phone from my back pocket to text Chloe.

I think I went on a date with Alec.

She replies quickly.

Excuse me? Details. Spill now.

Biting the corner of my bottom lip, I type out my response and hit send.

There’s not much to tell. I ran into him walking to get breakfast. He asked me if I wanted coffee, and for some reason, I agreed to go with him.

You had coffee with Alec Sokolov!

It’s not a big deal. Dad broke it up fast.

Yikes… that’s mortifying. What was the reason he broke up the date?

He never really gave me a reason. He said there was a family matter that we needed to discuss, and well, he’s not even here.

I watch the bubble pop up as Chloe types her next reply, but when my phone vibrates in my palm, I don’t get a chance to read what she said because the door swings open violently. The rough sound of dad’s shoes make my body tense a little.

I almost don’t even want to look at him, too angry to, but I do. I turn around and give a half smile. It fades quickly when he doesn’t smile back or greet me.

My stomach twists. He looks angry. The wrinkles around his mouth pinch tight against the corners of his lips.

My eyes move to the glass of soda in my hand. Shame sneaks up on me.

“Take a seat,” he demands.

My throat tightens, and I swallow once. Twice. Three times… until I feel some relief. With a quick roll of my shoulders, I sit down at the kitchen table. He stays standing in the same spot.

In the blink of an eye, he slams his hand onto the table, causing me to flinch. He glides a crisp white piece of people with ink so black toward me. My stomach does a complete three-sixty. The few sips of orange soda I had is threatening to reappear as I read the first sentence.

How is this possible? I made sure to check the mail before Dad since I came home from college, just in case the school sent a letter confirming my decision to drop out.

My eyes move slowly to Dad. He doesn’t say a word, only waits for an explanation. One that I can’t really give to him. I can’t help but look down at the paper with disappointment and then back at his hard eyes.

He tilts his head while I try to swallow down saliva to moisten my dry throat.

“H-how did you…”

He cuts me off before I can finish. “When exactly were you planning to tell your father that you dropped out of college?”

My hands shake as I raise my glass, bringing it to my mouth for a sip. The only thing I can focus on right now is this paper. The proof of everything I’ve been holding back from him. I can’t imagine how hurt he is. How much I have failed him.

“I-I can explain,” I stutter.

“Please do. I’m the one who has been paying for your tuition, and you go behind my back and decide not to go?”

“I… well… um.”

Why can’t I get the words out properly?

I lick my lips, feeling a lump in my throat as I swallow once again. “Dad.”

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