Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 125845 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 629(@200wpm)___ 503(@250wpm)___ 419(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125845 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 629(@200wpm)___ 503(@250wpm)___ 419(@300wpm)
37
Demi
TJ: You and hockey guy straighten everything out?
The message pops up when I’m on a bus headed for Boston. I would’ve preferred taking the train, but none of the departure and arrival times lined up with my schedule for today. I wanted to visit Boston all week, but my dad’s been in surgery nearly every day. Now it’s Friday and he’s available, but Hunter’s team is playing tonight, so I’m squeezing in a quick trip to the city and then racing back to Hastings.
I can’t miss this game. Apparently it’s a crucial game in the playoffs. If they win, they go to the semi-finals? I think? I’m not entirely sure how it goes, but I know Hunter would appreciate it if I came to cheer him on.
I’m at the front of the bus, curled up in a window seat. Luckily, there’s nobody with ferret pics sitting beside me. No seatmate at all, in fact, so my purse gets its own seat.
ME: Yep, it’s all good. We talked at the beginning of the week.
HIM: Oh. You didn’t mention it.
ME: You didn’t ask :)
HIM: I’m sorry that pic upset you. Wish I never showed it to you.
ME: No, I’m glad I saw it. It was actually the catalyst we needed to have THE TALK. Anyway, how are you doing? Is your Lit prof still being an ass?
HIM: Sort of, but it’s nbd. I’m more interested in your TALK. How’d that go?
ME: Well, we’re officially together now, so I’m gonna say it went pretty well. Guess who has a boyfriend again lol I’m on my way to Boston right now to tell my parents.
HIM: Seriously? You’re going all the way to Boston to tell your family you’re dating some guy?
ME: Yep.
A wry smile tickles my lips. It’s true, a phone call would have sufficed. A text, even. But my parents are a huge part of my life. It’s always been just the three of us, and in my family we talk things out in person. Our little unit took a hit after Nico and I broke up, but Dad isn’t pushing me to get back with Nico anymore. Granted, now he’s regularly dropping hints about how I should stop seeing Hunter.
I honestly don’t know what his problem with Hunter is, other than Hunter’s wealthy background, which is a non-issue. Dad is just being extra protective, and I’d like to get to the heart of that.
And because I’m feeling so emboldened, I’m also going to tell him I’m not applying for med school.
Which means I’ll either be at Hunter’s game tonight, or I’ll be dead.
TJ: Well, good luck with that. Doesn’t your dad hate him?
ME: Don’t know if he hates him, per se. But he does disapprove.
HIM: Same thing.
ME: No it’s not. But it doesn’t matter. Hunter is my bf, and Dad will just have to deal. Anyway, gotta go! Just got to the station xo
I tuck my phone away and slip on my parka in preparation of leaving the warmth of the bus. The air is frigid as I walk through the bus station toward the taxi and ride share lines outside. There’s a taxi right there and it’s too cold to wait for an Uber, so I hop into the back of the cab and provide my address.
Mom told me that Dad had pulled an all-nighter at the hospital and only got home at ten-thirty this morning. That means I’ll most likely be dealing with Grumpy Papa today. It’s not ideal, but I can’t schedule my life around my dad’s various moods.
When the taxi reaches my brownstone, I take a deep breath before getting out of the car. I need to gather every ounce of courage I possess, because my father won’t be happy to hear what I have to say today. But Hunter was right—Dad’s not going to disown me. I know in my heart he won’t. He might huff and puff, but he’s not blowing any houses down.
I just need to stick to my guns, and not let him bulldoze me, especially about medical school. It’s time for me to stop being Daddy’s Little Girl and be my own woman.
As usual, numerous aromas greet my nostrils when I stride into the house. “Mom?” I call.
“In here.” She’s in the kitchen, where else?
I pop through the doorway and almost collapse in a puddle of ravenous drool. She’s pan-frying chicken with peppers and peas, and the spicy smell draws me toward the stove.
“Oh my God, Mom. Please move into the Theta house with me,” I plead. “You could cook for us every single day. Breakfasts, lunches, dinners.” I shiver in pure joy. “I’d be living the dream.”
Mom snorts.
I wrap my arms around her from behind, giving her a kiss on the cheek. Then I try to steal a piece of chicken and she smacks my hand with her spatula.