My roommate, Nicole, kept looking over at me and glaring. I knew that she thought that sleep was the key to her beauty, and since she spent every weekend staying out all night partying, she had to get her beauty sleep every chance she could get. Considering how beautiful she was, and considering how many guys she brought home, I wasn't all that sympathetic.
In the end, I ended up falling asleep at 2 am, exhausted and no closer to home than I had been before. I was down to my backup plan of public transportation Dad's credit card. Not exactly the way I had intended to start my Christmas vacation.
I set an alarm for 4:30 am, which when it went off, made Nicole glare at me again. Her gorgeous blonde curls had a serious case of bedhead going on, which at least got me to giggle.
“Are you seriously awake at this hour?” she asked.
I groaned and turned on the light, slowly getting dressed. Luckily, I had already packed in anticipation of Danny driving me home, but I still felt like today was going to be a really long day.
I knew it would be impossible for me to get a cab at this hour, so I walked the three blocks to the nearest bus station, dragging my rolling suitcase behind me. This was where my life had brought me to: the rich girl reduced to walking in her expensive tennis shoes in order to take a bus trip that would likely take an hour, to hopefully take a plane trip home that would probably take just as long.
I grimaced when I thought about what my dad would think. I wasn't the rich one, of course. He was. I'd be using my emergency credit card to pay for this flight, which meant that he'd be the one paying for my last-minute mistake.
My dad had worked hard all his life and knew the value of money. After working his way up the corporate ladder in the financial industry, he had taken a big leap in his late 30s to start his own advertisement business. It had been a lot of hard work, so much work that my mother had divorced him, but he had eventually pulled through and was now a very successful millionaire.
With that kind of success came the ability to buy everything that one could want, but my dad never seemed to want material possessions. And even though he could have any woman that he wanted, at the age of 45 he fell for a widower that worked in middle management at a firm that he was contracted to do market research for.
Nancy was a strong woman. Still vibrant and young-at-heart, I knew that she would be a great companion for my dad. And even though I didn't think that
I needed a mom, Nancy made me feel like she could be a friend while still being in charge of the house. I liked her.
Unfortunately, she came with baggage.
The first time I met James was the last day of summer before I started high school. He was definitely a troubled teen, but I didn't see that at the time. All I saw was the dark hair, the green eyes, the body that was way too muscular to be a high schooler. He was everything a freshmen girl could dream of.
And, even though his mother insisted that we have a conversation, he had ignored me.
He had sat out on our deck, sitting under an umbrella and sipping a lemonade. His arms had been crossed and he basically pouted the entire time, acting like a spoiled little brat. I tried to talk to him, but I was fourteen years old and probably not very interesting. His mother had prodded him, but he ignored her too.
Then, my dad had offered him a beer. He perked up immediately. He drank it while my dad grilled him about his studies, his ambitions. I remembered him being very engaged with my dad, but also defensive about the fact that he didn't know what to do, even though he was doing well in his computer classes. “All that tech stuff is for nerds,” he had said.
My dad had just smiled. “You know what they say about nerds. One day you'll be calling one 'sir'.”
James had scoffed at that. “I'll never call anyone 'sir'.”
“You will if you're working for someone else,” my dad replied. He knew- he had worked for someone else for the first twenty years of his adult life.
“Then I guess I'll just have to work for myself,” James decided, as if it were just that easy.
My dad had just chuckled. “I think you and I are gonna get along just fine. Come on in the kitchen with me. Let's get another beer.” He turned to me. “We'll be right back, sweetie.”
James quickly chugged the rest of the beer in front of him, and the two disappeared into the house. I let the sun's rays hit me and just kind of laid back and drank it in. I had just gone through another growth spurt recently, and all my hormones were telling me that I had a crush on every boy I saw. I at least recognized that, but I also thought James was incredibly hot. I wished he would talk to me.
Nancy made small talk with me while they were gone, but it seemed like she was enjoying just laying out in the sun as well. Fifteen minutes must have passed before Dad and James came back out. Dad had a box of six bottles of beer in his hand, which he sat down on the table. “Nancy, you and I are going to go out to get ice cream. We'll be back in a half hour.”
Dad grabbed two beers out of the container, leaving the other four within reach of James. Nancy got up and smiled, walking into the house with Dad and leaving the two of us alone.
“So, your dad tells me you're starting high school in the fall?” James asked me. It was the most he had ever said to me up until this point.
“Um, yeah. Ninth grade.” I looked down at the ground, unable to make eye contact with those piercing green eyes of his. “Have you heard any teachers I should try to avoid?”
“You'll want Ms. Patterson for English, but avoid Mr. Bennet for math,” he replied. I stared at him for a moment, unsure of what was happening. He was talking to me. The cute boy was talking to me.
The conversation seemed great to my fourteen year old self. I wasn't sure what had just changed, but I wasn't about to complain about having a hot senior paying attention to me. He asked me what music I liked, what movies I liked, what my interests were. He mostly let me talk about myself, but he told me that he was learning the guitar. I heard a little brag in his voice when he said that he had mastered the solo to a song I had never heard, and I could tell he was proud of how far he had come.
I was so engrossed in what he was saying that I hadn't even noticed that an hour had passed, or that James drank all four of those beers in front of him. When my dad and Nancy finally returned, he was leaning forward, definitely looking interested as I told him whatever story I wanted. I felt special. He made eye contact with my dad, nodded, and continued to listen as our parents had a seat with us.
The conversation wrapped up shortly after that, as Nancy said they had to go. James had staggered to the driveway, obviously drunk. “Had a good time today, Frank,” he had said to my dad, slurring his words a little bit.