Not Looking for Love: Episode 6 (A New Adult Contemporary Romance Novel) by Lena Bourne Page B
Authors: Lena Bourne
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with a mix of curiosity and interest. "Work it out."
He gets up and leaves the room, the door slamming shut behind him. And we stay there for another two hours at least, going over every detail, until a sharp pain starts in my left temple and nausea begins rising in my stomach.
It's dark outside by the time we finally end the meeting, and the cold air only makes my headache worse. If Mike hadn't called, Gail and me would be on some tropical beach in Thailand right now. I want that so bad I can actually smell the sea air.
"It's not too late for you to go see Dad now," Mike says, zipping up his leather jacket. That and the gelled back hair makes him look like an extra from some old mafia movie. I don't think he realizes how ridiculous he looks.
"Why don't you go?" I snap, my voice drowned out by the engine noise of all the cars pulling out. Greg waves to me as he drives past, but I ignore him.
"I have other plans tonight," Mike says. "But he did sound very depressed over the phone these last few times."
"Fuck that," I interrupt. "He can call me if he wants to see me."
"I think he wants to see you," Mike says. "He just doesn't know how to tell you."
And that's just another example of how well they understand each other. But I already know I'm going, since Mike's probably right. I'll have to make the first step here. Dad never calls. He just expects us to be there when he needs us. And all that's just making my headache worse.
The drive to my dad's house takes forever, mostly because, in my mind, I'm lying on the soft warm sand on a beach in Thailand with Gail. I can't stop seeing it. I can actually feel her soft skin against mine, the weight of her body pressing against mine. My cock's so hard it's pressing painfully against my pants.
But I kinda welcome it tonight, since the alternative is thinking about what I'm gonna say to Dad. Nothing comes to mind anyway. Mostly I'm just getting angry at what I imagine he'll say. Like, “Why haven't you called, Scott?’ Or ‘Why didn't you help Mike?’ Or ‘Your mom would've wanted you to help Mike?’
I knew Mike was playing some game all along. But I can't even tell Dad I was right, because then Gail will get hurt.
I'm just sitting in the car in front of his house now, not even sure how long I've been here. The TV's on in the living room, but that's the only light coming from the house. It's past ten. He might already be asleep. And even if he isn't, I'm not going in.
I don't want to see my dad. Maybe never again. If he only took my side with Mike, none of this would be happening now. And I want to believe otherwise, but we all knew Mike needed help since way back. And Dad was supposed to be the one facing it. Not me. Not anyone else. Dad.
I speed away, park by the first bar I reach. It's empty, except for Louie and a couple of his friends drinking by the bar, watching the rerun of a football game.
I fight the urge to turn around and go drink somewhere else. Louie never did press charges when I almost beat him to death. But I never apologized, so I don't think we're actually cool. I should do that one of these days. Maybe. But I'm not doing it tonight, and I'm not running away. He had it coming. I'm sure he did, from the bits and pieces of our conversation I remember, and what others told me.
He sees me walk in, and kinda nods in my direction, but then keeps casting me dark glances while I'm drinking at a booth by the window. His three friends are doing it too, and I suppose I should maybe be getting nervous, but I'm not.
After the third vodka I pay and leave. The door closing and reopening, followed by footsteps and whispers behind don't really register.
My shoulder collides painfully with the stone wall bordering the alley where I parked.
"You thought you wouldn't get what's coming, Scott?" Louie hisses and punches me in the back, his knuckles grazing my spine. The pain explodes somewhere in my stomach.
I elbow the guy trying to grab hold of
He gets up and leaves the room, the door slamming shut behind him. And we stay there for another two hours at least, going over every detail, until a sharp pain starts in my left temple and nausea begins rising in my stomach.
It's dark outside by the time we finally end the meeting, and the cold air only makes my headache worse. If Mike hadn't called, Gail and me would be on some tropical beach in Thailand right now. I want that so bad I can actually smell the sea air.
"It's not too late for you to go see Dad now," Mike says, zipping up his leather jacket. That and the gelled back hair makes him look like an extra from some old mafia movie. I don't think he realizes how ridiculous he looks.
"Why don't you go?" I snap, my voice drowned out by the engine noise of all the cars pulling out. Greg waves to me as he drives past, but I ignore him.
"I have other plans tonight," Mike says. "But he did sound very depressed over the phone these last few times."
"Fuck that," I interrupt. "He can call me if he wants to see me."
"I think he wants to see you," Mike says. "He just doesn't know how to tell you."
And that's just another example of how well they understand each other. But I already know I'm going, since Mike's probably right. I'll have to make the first step here. Dad never calls. He just expects us to be there when he needs us. And all that's just making my headache worse.
The drive to my dad's house takes forever, mostly because, in my mind, I'm lying on the soft warm sand on a beach in Thailand with Gail. I can't stop seeing it. I can actually feel her soft skin against mine, the weight of her body pressing against mine. My cock's so hard it's pressing painfully against my pants.
But I kinda welcome it tonight, since the alternative is thinking about what I'm gonna say to Dad. Nothing comes to mind anyway. Mostly I'm just getting angry at what I imagine he'll say. Like, “Why haven't you called, Scott?’ Or ‘Why didn't you help Mike?’ Or ‘Your mom would've wanted you to help Mike?’
I knew Mike was playing some game all along. But I can't even tell Dad I was right, because then Gail will get hurt.
I'm just sitting in the car in front of his house now, not even sure how long I've been here. The TV's on in the living room, but that's the only light coming from the house. It's past ten. He might already be asleep. And even if he isn't, I'm not going in.
I don't want to see my dad. Maybe never again. If he only took my side with Mike, none of this would be happening now. And I want to believe otherwise, but we all knew Mike needed help since way back. And Dad was supposed to be the one facing it. Not me. Not anyone else. Dad.
I speed away, park by the first bar I reach. It's empty, except for Louie and a couple of his friends drinking by the bar, watching the rerun of a football game.
I fight the urge to turn around and go drink somewhere else. Louie never did press charges when I almost beat him to death. But I never apologized, so I don't think we're actually cool. I should do that one of these days. Maybe. But I'm not doing it tonight, and I'm not running away. He had it coming. I'm sure he did, from the bits and pieces of our conversation I remember, and what others told me.
He sees me walk in, and kinda nods in my direction, but then keeps casting me dark glances while I'm drinking at a booth by the window. His three friends are doing it too, and I suppose I should maybe be getting nervous, but I'm not.
After the third vodka I pay and leave. The door closing and reopening, followed by footsteps and whispers behind don't really register.
My shoulder collides painfully with the stone wall bordering the alley where I parked.
"You thought you wouldn't get what's coming, Scott?" Louie hisses and punches me in the back, his knuckles grazing my spine. The pain explodes somewhere in my stomach.
I elbow the guy trying to grab hold of
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