“I’m also sorry I ruined your birthday,” Gavin says. “I didn’t realize I was feverish when I showed up to mini golf. My mind was in a fog. I feel like you’ve seen me at my worst.”
The thing is, I didn’t mind. The date part was a mess. Most of it, anyway. Parts of it felt like a real date, one I enjoyed. The ending? Not so much. I didn’t even mind taking care of him afterward. It was nice seeing the vulnerable side to him. To feel needed.
Gavin lifts a hand and I flinch slightly until he traces the edge of the bruise on my face. “I’m sorry for falling on you. The last thing I want is to hurt you.”
Maybe that’s true, but I’m fully aware that I’m probably not going to get out of this thing without being hurt. It’s just not possible.
I step back. Gavin’s hand falls and clutches in a fist at his side.
“My bags are in the car,” I tell him. “Are we leaving soon?”
“Ten minutes,” he says. “Is that okay?”
“Sure. I’ll go get Ella. That’s what I’m here for.”
And with my chest aching and burning like I’ve swallowed a mouthful of lava, I walk inside and leave Gavin on the porch.
I'm twenty-one, and I have a major crush on someone in high school. (He is eighteen! I checked.) I met him in the library, where he was reading Camus's The Stranger, which had my telltale English major heart pitter-pattering. It’s either totally impressive … or just an English 12 assignment.
We talked books, we flirted, and he asked me out. I’m afraid if I say yes, I may eventually end up at prom. What do I do?
Ah, the classic age-gap scenario! Having an age difference doesn’t have to be a problem, but it can be when the younger person is still in high school, even if it’s legal.
Are you ready to meet the parents of a high school boyfriend?
Are you okay getting dressed up and striking the good old prom pose again?
Are you sure that he’s not just hoping you’ll buy him beer? (Sorry to be a buzzkill, but I have to ask.)
On a more serious note, if you really do start dating, people will judge you. Can you handle it?
Is this person living at home? Will they be going to college, living on their parents’ dime … or yours? Are you prepared for being a person living independently while dating a dependent?
Personally, I would ask this question: does this person still receive an allowance? If the answer is YES, I would move on.
Sincerely,
Dr. Love
Chapter Eighteen
Gavin
I adjust the rearview mirror again, trying to be nonchalant about the fact that I want to be able to see both Ella and Zoey. Because I’m playing chauffeur to my newly discovered daughter and my love interest slash assistant slash new nanny. I shake my head at the ridiculousness of the situation. I don’t have much experience with soap operas, but I am pretty sure I’m living one right now.
“Can I connect my phone to your Bluetooth?” Ella asks. “Does your truck have Bluetooth?”
She’s talking to me! I shouldn’t get so excited, but with Ella, asking me a direct question is kind of a big deal.
“Of course. Hang on.” I fiddle with the stereo when I stop for a red light. “There. It should be ready to pair now.”
“Thanks.”
It’s strange because my mind wants to fill in the blanks of Ella’s words, adding in my name. Thanks, Gavin. Or, Thanks, Dad. That second one freaks me out, and I wonder how long it will be until it sinks in that this is my new reality.
The conversation—if I can be so generous as to call it that—about Bluetooth is the most Ella has said to me. When Zoey left earlier, the same silence as usual descended in the house but worse, because the house wasn’t empty anymore.
I finally found Ella in the guest room, watching YouTube on the tablet that acts more like her IV drip.
“Can I talk to you?” I had asked. She didn’t answer, but did hit pause, which was something.
“I know that this is all very strange and difficult.” I waited for a nod, an acknowledgment, something. But she simply stared, with big brown eyes, whose shape was Eleanor’s but whose color seemed all mine. “Your mother never told me about you, or it wouldn’t have