Not So Nice Guy(53)
She’s not the only person hungry for retribution.
Bianca and Gretchen are waiting for me outside my classroom when I get to school.
Bianca’s arms are crossed and she blocks my path so I can’t unlock my door. “Was that fun for you both to see us drooling over Ian like that? Why’d you tell us you weren’t together if you clearly were?”
I sigh, tired from lack of sleep and a constantly whirring brain. “I wasn’t lying that day in the teachers’ lounge. At the time, we weren’t together.”
“Save it. We know you’re on probation for dating him. It’s against the rules. The parents are upset. You two won’t last the rest of the week.”
She huffs and sticks her nose in the air then snaps for Gretchen to follow after her.
It’s not exactly the way I want to start my day, but then I walk into my classroom and find a thermos full of hot coffee, a granola bar, and a single red rose waiting for me on my desk. Its petals are full and open. I promptly trim it and put it in water right away then proceed to stare at it for most of my day.
Ian stays true to his word and we don’t see each other at all on Wednesday or Thursday. He doesn’t come to the teachers’ lounge during lunch. Ashley sits with the Freshman Four and I’m left all alone, picking at a turkey sandwich and missing Ian. We don’t do West Wing Wednesday. We don’t even chat over text or email, which feels weird, but I think he really wants to give me space. I walk to the bike rack after school on Thursday and catch sight of the soccer field in the distance. Ian is out there running drills with his team. My legs want to carry me in his direction until I’m right there in the thick of it. Soccer players would have to dive out of the way to keep from pummeling me. I’d fling myself onto Ian’s back, hook my arms around his neck, and tell him to continue on with practice. I wouldn’t get in the way. I just want to smell him, to feel his arms and hands and hair and remind myself that this perfect human wants to marry me and I’d be absolutely insane to turn him down.
Instead, I bike extra fast on the way home.
I’m surprised to find my dad waiting for me at my apartment. He’s wearing one of his fancy lawyer suits and looks very uncomfortable out on the curb. His scowl warns me to expect another battle and I steel my shoulders accordingly, but when he sees me ride up, he stands up and waves.
“Hey kiddo.”
I drop my weapons. “Hi Dad.”
He’s only ever been to my apartment a few times. He thinks I should live at home to save money. To him, the chipped linoleum and ugly brown carpet are beneath me.
“I like what you’ve done with the place,” he says after I let us in. He’s poking at one of the books on my shelf and reading the spine. I’m grateful it’s not Pirate’s Hidden Treasure.
“Thanks. Did Mom send you?” I ask, bringing him a glass of water.
He accepts it and nods. “She wanted to make sure you were okay after the other night. Also, she wants her plates back.”
His teasing smile surprises me and I laugh.
“Right, well, you can have the plates, but if you’re going to try to talk me out of marrying Ian, you shouldn’t bother.”
He sips his water then places it on a coaster on the coffee table. “I’m not.”
“Oh,” I say hesitantly.
“But I’m going to tell you something, and I want you to listen.” He turns to me, his hands on his hips. He suddenly looks like a formidable opponent, and I wonder if this is what he looks like in a court of law. “Marriage is not something you should enter into lightly. Your mom and I were in love when we got married. We’ve been together for over 30 years now, and there have still been a lot of hard times.”
This is news to me—they’ve always seemed perfect.
“I know it seems exciting right now, but there will be trials down the road, and if you don’t start with a solid foundation, it’s going to make it ten times harder to weather the storms.”
“I’ve thought about all this.”
His brow arches with interest. “And you still think you’re making the right decision?”
There’s no point in lying, so I sidestep his question. “Has Mom come around to the idea?”
I take a seat on the couch and he joins me.
“Afraid not. She’s still crying about the fact that you won’t be wearing her grandmother’s dress or getting married at the church.”
I lean my head back against the cushion and smile, thinking back to the monstrosity hanging in one of the upstairs closets back at the house. “I wouldn’t wear that dress even if I was having a traditional wedding.”
He leans his head beside mine and we stare up at the ceiling together. “That’s what I told her.”
“Dad?”
“Yes?”
“I could be making a huge mistake.”
“You could be.”
“Or I could be making the best decision of my life.”
He nods thoughtfully. “Who’s to say?”
I glance down and see a folded blue handkerchief in his hand. It’s the one I remember him wearing when I was a kid. He’d fold it into a neat square and stuff it into the front pocket of his suits. His initials are embroidered on the bottom corner, and when he notices me staring at it, he opens his palm.