The Jock by J.L. Beck Page 0,86

sister, everything fell apart. People stopped talking to me and turned their backs on us. They passed me in the school hallway like I was nothing more than a stranger, whispering to their friends. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t hurt by it, but honestly, I got over it. I don’t need people to pretend to be my friends. If they are not real friends, then they are not worthy of being my friend at all.

“Is your dad coming to the freshman welcome brunch?” Tensing at the mention of my father, I shake my head.

“No, he’s got to work, and it’s too long of a drive for him to make out here.”

“Oh, sorry. I thought I might get to meet your family,” she chimes, blissfully unaware of what an ass my dad is. I haven’t told her any of my family drama yet, and I don’t think I will, not anytime soon at least. I would like to keep at least one person as a friend.

Getting dressed quickly, I tug on a pair of black skinny jeans and a pink blouse, then I look at myself in the mirror. With my long black hair still wet and clinging to my shoulders, I look like a drowned cat.

Alice goes into the bathroom to shower. I start drying the mangled strands of hair, using the brush to straighten them out as I go and then apply some light makeup, using the mirror in our room.

Twenty minutes later, like the beauty queen she is, she comes out of the bathroom, fully dressed and ready. I slip into my ankle boots and finish myself off with a spritz of my favorite perfume.

“Ready?” Alice turns to me and smiles.

“Ready,” I confirm, and we both head out together.

The walk to Lincoln Hall is short, and we make it there in under ten minutes. The building itself looks older than dirt, but inside it’s beautiful, with high ceilings and huge windows that let lots of light in. Entering the room, I discover it’s already filling up with people. There is an entrance table with one of the helpers handing out name tags and explaining the seating chart. Great, I won’t be able to sit with Alice like I had hoped. A nervous knot forms in my stomach. That’s just the way the cookie crumbles, Willow. Sighing, I walk up to the table.

“Willow Bradford,” I tell the lady at the table.

“Good morning, Miss Bradford, you will be sitting at table eight, and your father is already here,” she smiles, and I almost choke on the air in my lungs.

“What?” I don’t understand. He’s not supposed to be here. Why is he here? Suddenly any appetite I might have had is gone, and all I want to do is go back to the dorm and crawl in my bed. But I can’t, definitely not now. Scanning the room slowly half praying this woman might be wrong, I spot him. Damnit. My insides burn, and my muscles tighten. There he is sitting at our assigned table, wearing a gray tailored suit looking every bit out of his element. His dark gaze moves about the room, watching as students pass by with their parents. Parents that care. That love them. As I stare, one single question remains. What the hell is he doing here?

“Oh, cool. Your dad came, after all,” Alice exclaims excitedly. “My family is at table 3, but we can get together later, okay?” She’s bubbling at the seams with excitement over seeing her parents, while I would rather stick forks in my eyes. I swallow thickly, the saliva in my mouth suddenly turning to glue. Not wanting to have to explain to her the shitshow that is my family, I just nod instead.

We part ways, and it takes everything inside me to continue walking toward that table. I’m angry, sad, and disappointed because this was supposed to be my break. My chance at freedom, instead, it feels more like a gilded cage. All over again, I’m trapped, just like I was at home.

“There you are,” my father greets me with a forced smile as I walk up to the table. He gets up, presses a kiss to my cheek, and pulls my chair out for me. Once we’re both seated, he leans in so no one else can hear and says, “Would it have killed you to wear a dress for an event like this?”

What the hell?

He straightens back up, and I stare at him dumbfoundedly.