The Girl Who Wrote The Dating Manual

chapter nine

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Dedicated to Until_The_End24, who is a solid Team Chance. May all of your guinea pig dreams come true.

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That night, after a dinner of grilled steaks and fried onion, we all sat on the back patio. I sat with Jamie, Ava and Chance, and I took a sip of beer. It seemed the Donoghue’s weren’t very conventional, and didn’t mind the kids having a controlled amount of alcohol, so we all sat there with matching bottles.

            I took a sip of mine and tried to focus on what Jamie was saying, though it came out as gibberish. Something about a chick in the library? I didn’t know, as all I could pay attention to was the fact that Chance sat across from me. I could  hear the sounds of his breathing, and it took everything in me not to glance over at him.

            Chance seemed to have no such problems, as he laughed along with Ava at whatever Jamie was saying, and I joined in, even though I had no idea what I was laughing at.

            The weather was still pleasantly warm, warm enough to merit jeans and a t-shirt, and I fiddled with the hem of my cable-knit sweater uncomfortably. I wasn’t super-hot, but I was a little warmer than I would’ve liked. But I didn’t want to take it off for fear of bringing attention to myself, which was exactly what I didn’t want right now. To cool myself down, I took another swig of beer.

            “You okay?” Ava asked, leaning close to me. “You seem sad.”

            I shook my head. “Nah, I’m okay.”

            She didn’t push it, and she leaned back over, joining in on the conversation. Truth was, I was kind of sad at the moment. I was slowly realizing how disjointed my family was. All I had was my father, whom I hadn’t spoken to in two years, and my mother. But my relationship was completely shattered with her. I had no siblings, and friends were few and far between. I was pretty alone in life, especially with my aversion to the opposite sex.

            I stood up. “I think I’m gonna head to bed,” I announced, putting down my bottle of beer and dusting my hands on my jeans.

            A chorus of goodbyes met me, and I ruffled Ava’s long hair affectionately before making my way upstairs and to the grand staircase. I was the first one to bed—beating even young Max—and it was only just past nine, but I was tired from the drive up and also my drunken experience the night before. Though the hangover had thankfully disappeared, the affects were still prominent. 

            Once inside the bedroom, I shut the door and riffled through my duffel, changing into a pair of pink silken boxes and an oversized white t-shirt. I tied my hair into a messy bun and lay back on my bed, staring at the gabled roof supported by arched wood. It really was a pretty place at the cabin, with the lake and nature and the beautiful oak that the house was made from. It was a great place to spend Christmas, and certainly better than the stifling confines of the Sinclair manor.