Love You Goodbye (h.s. au)

37

The next morning, I wake with a start after having a nightmare of being chased by a swarm of wasps. My hand darts to my neck when I remember the end of it just before I woke up, where I got stung in the neck by one. Confirming that my neck is fine and it was only a dream, I sit up with a heavy sigh and push my hair away from my face. I look at the time to see it's well after ten in the morning and stare at my door in trepidation. I went straight to bed after getting off the phone with Harry last night, exhausted from my tears, so I haven't spoken with my parents yet. I'm dreading it, knowing the talk they're going to give me is either going to hurt me or make me want to tear my hair out.

I force myself to get out of bed and open my bedroom door, peeking out into the hall to make sure the coast is clear before darting to the restroom. I wash up real quick, do my business then make my way downstairs with reluctance. I tip toe my way to the kitchen and slow my pace when I hear the quietness, and I wonder if everyone went out for breakfast. I relax at the thought and walk into the kitchen to smell coffee. I pour myself a cup then rummage through the cabinets until I find a box of cheerios. I'm in the middle of pouring milk into the bowl of cereal when I hear footsteps approaching behind me. I stiffen and place the milk back in the refrigerator before turning around with the bowl in my hand.

My dad is standing by the kitchen table with his arms crossed, his lips in a firm line as he watches me grab a spoon. Judging by the jeans and ironed collared shirt, he's been up for awhile. Taking him in, I brace myself. His stance says it all. He's got things he'd like to say to me.

"Morning." I mumble, dipping my spoon in my cereal and stuffing my mouth so I don't have to talk just yet.

"Glad to see my daughter still has some manners." He says and I scowl at him, taking my coffee with me to the kitchen table. I plop myself down in a chair, chewing as my dad watches me. He sits in the chair across from me, leaning his arms on the table. "You have anything you'd like to say?"

"I'm not apologizing." I say firmly and look down at my bowl. There's a spike of nervousness that rushes through me for using that tone with my dad, but I ignore it. "I meant what I said about Karley."

"You were out of line, Avriella."

"Dad," I look at him and he arches an eyebrow at my tone. "Did you hear what she said to me?"

"I did. I also heard how you purposely got her in trouble by outing her to your aunt and uncle."

I press my lips together, feeling my ears get hot the way they do whenever I got in trouble with my parents. I don't feel I'm in the wrong here, but my dad does a good job of making me feel like I am. "Only because she brought up Harry. It wasn't her place."

"Speaking of," He begins and I already know he's going to hit me with twenty-one questions. "Who is this guy? Was Karley telling the truth?"

I bite the inside of my cheek and shake my head. She wasn't wrong about his past but, despite it, she didn't know him well enough to talk about him when he wasn't here to defend himself. "No dad, she wasn't. Karley knows nothing about my relationship with Harry and she had no right to taint it without you guys meeting him first. He deserves a chance to show who he really is to you guys and Karley just...ruined it."

"I'm sorry," I look up at my dad to see him watching me intently. "I don't know who this guy is so I was quick to believe her. You're right, he deserves a chance to make a good impression. But until then, I only know what I'm told. So, you don't have to tell me about him if you're not ready but I just want to know, is he good to you?"

I don't answer the question right away, because truth be told he wasn't at the beginning. Harry was the biggest asshole, with his arrogant grin and blunt comments. It's crazy to think I couldn't stand him in the beginning but now... things have changed. He's, different. Not completely, and I'm not stupid to think the person he was when we met is completely gone but he's been a good friend to me. Or whatever he was. "He is." I blurt, feeling my cheeks heat when my dad continues to study my expression. "I prefer not to talk about him though, if that's okay."