Curvy Girls Can't Date Bad Boys - Kelsie Stelting Page 0,12
let Dad spend ten dollars on a cup at Halfway.”
A knowing smile formed on her lips. “Rough night?”
“When isn’t it a rough night?” I asked.
Her eyes filled with compassion. “It’s been extra hard for you two this year, hasn’t it?” It wasn’t a question, just a statement, but tears filled my eyes, and I nodded all the same.
“Oh, honey.” Her arms wrapped around me, and I leaned into her hug. Beth was the closest thing I’d had to a mom since I was eleven. Even though she was nothing like my mom, I felt the love all the same.
Feeling too close to completely breaking down, I pulled back and wiped at the corners of my eyes, careful not to mess up my makeup. “I better get going.”
She rubbed my shoulder and said, “Just remember, your dad loves you. You’re his world.”
That was the problem, I thought, as I waved goodbye and went to my car. I didn’t want to be his world, something he could control. I wanted to be his daughter, someone he could simply love.
When I reached the café, I could see him through the front window, dressed in a perfectly crisp designer suit. When Mom stopped taking care of his clothes, he had a personal stylist take over. I wished that had been the only thing to change.
I went inside and ordered at the counter before going to sit with Dad. He looked up at me from his phone, then back down at the messages.
“Good morning, girlfriend,” Ryde said close to my ear.
I recoiled from his voice and looked him up and down. He looked like a little boy in rolled pants and a tight shirt. Why was my first reaction to him always disgust? Behind him, I could see the barista checking him out like he’d descended from heaven for the sole purpose of kissing her silly.
Dad caught sight of us and waved us over. “Daylight’s burning!”
Ryde chuckled. “So true, Dad.”
Dad puffed up his chest. “Dad? I like it.”
Ryde fist-bumped him across the table, and it took all I had not to vomit.
Dad rubbed his hands together and looked right at Ryde. “Let’s get started. I feel like I need to get a better understanding of what motivates teenagers.”
“Motivation?” Ryde laughed. “What's that?”
Dad shook his head. “Clearly you're motivated or else you wouldn't be one of the top actors of your age.”
Ryde acted like he was embarrassed to be caught, but I could tell he was pleased. “I feel like when I was wanting to become an actor, I had so many pressures crashing down on me. I needed to graduate, I needed to please my parents, and I needed to figure out what to do for the rest of my life even though I'd hardly lived yet. I wanted to have the opportunity to be anything, to be everything, and acting sounded like the perfect way to do that and have an adventure. My parents couldn't be prouder. And now the pressure I have is created by a career that I love.”
Part of me was jealous of his passion for his career, but another part was frustrated. Why did he get the freedom to choose how he lived his life when I was being forced in every aspect?
“What about you, Zara?” Ryde asked.
I stayed silent, rolling the words over on my tongue. How could I tell Dad the truth, that I was motivated by his pressure, but in the opposite direction? The more he pushed me one way, the more I wanted to prove that I could make a life on my own.
“You can say it,” Dad said. “You're not going to hurt my feelings.”
I raised an eyebrow. At least he knew me a little bit. “Why would I be motivated when I don't have a say in my own life?” The more words I spoke, the tighter my throat got, as I realized how little control I actually did have. “Excuse me,” I said. I stood from the table without waiting for their permission and went to the restroom.
I needed to get myself together. I stood in front of the mirror, wiping my eyes and carefully dabbing at my makeup to be sure it didn't run down my face before school. Who was this girl who fell apart in public and cried in front of her father and movie stars? I wanted to be the real Zara, the one who was poised, confident and knew how to react in each moment. But that girl