Love Tides | ✓

fifteen | good luck

"Imagine it!" Adamos shook his hands around jazzing. "The bright lights, all eyes on you and Jean Taylor, the tension in the auditorium thicker than ever. And he wins! What do you do? Cry? Laugh? Scream? Attack someone from anger? Either way Taylor wins—but he only wins the superficial glory. The trophy is nothing; you win the experience. You realize your mistakes and the game is on again, but the difference is that this time—you know the technique and you have the ambition to win, because now you see what you want to be."

"You make it sound so easy,"  Avery mumbled, "how are you so sure? You never won against Jean Taylor."

"You're right," Adamos agreed with a curt nod. "But it never meant I couldn't have won. I simply didn't because I didn't want to--I knew that the knowledge I knew was enough, so I left and continued forward. Avery, I might seem incredibly youthful and handsome, but I know more than you do. I'm a father, once you win that title in life, your mind works differently--you start noticing the little things; manipulation, ambition, vengeance. You seek to take the worst thing from your child, so that's what I did with Penelope--her mother left, but I stayed, we stayed here in Skopelos. We went on adventures, I tought her things a mother should have taught--sewing, cooking, I even taught her about the menstrual cycle! I won't lie; it was a very traumatic experience for me. But it worked out--Avery, believe it or not, I'm trying to help you."

Avery nodded. "I know. But, I'm not a father, I don't understand those things like you do."

"You are right--but your mother does. And I am sure she'd agree with me too," Adamos took a sip of the beer. "Avery, I'm just trying to teach you that you don't need to win! You think you do, but you don't to be the best." He stepped forward and lifted one of the photographs from the table--the one where Avery and Penelope were pushed together in a side-hug, Odo squished against their faces as the scenery of Cordelia's hotel stood behind them. "Do you expect me to believe this isn't love?!"

"I-uh-I," Avery's eyes widened in bewilderment. "No? Yes?" He shook his head. "I don't know!"

"Avery don't be naive!" Adamos stalked forward, latching his hands on a tight grip on Avery's shoulders. "You don't need the trophy back where Jean Taylor is! You have years to come and you can win it then! But right now, you have a bigger gift that's right in front of your eyes that's much more important than any career!"

Avery bit the inside of his cheek, flinching backwards. "There is nothing there. Penelope...Penelope is just a friend. I was right—you are crazy, manic even!"

Adamos scoffed. "Please! Do you think I wouldn't notice that you two fell for each other! I know my daughter and she never looked at any other boy like she looks at you!"

"Then she didn't have any friends that are boys," Avery walked backward, getting close to the door so he could leave.

"Don't walk away from me Avery!" Adamos quickly catches up with him, glaring menacingly. "There's a reason why you never leave her side, that you only take photos of her, that she inspires you! Trust me, it's hard to admit, I know—but, if you don't admit it now, then you'll live to regret it. I made that mistake once, don't be stupid and follow what I did."

"I asked you once—what's the reason you photograph?" Adamos' eyes softened. "Is it because it's interesting? Maybe because it looks cool. Or is it for some other reason...a reason you're not telling me."

Avery's gaze fell to his feet as he stayed completely silent, not a noise uttering from his lips as Adamos' hard gaze held him frozen in place. He couldn't answer, he didn't know how either.

"Avery..." Adamos exhaled deeply. "Follow me."

The blonde boy did as told and followed Adamos curiously like a stray puppy. Adamos led him through a large hallway, pushing the door open to a room—the walls of the room were covered in maps and photographs, and several paintings too. In the middle of the room against the wall stood a large canopy bed, twinkling lights and different chiffon fabrics hanging from the poles. The sheets were tucked slightly, countless amounts of playful stuffed animals laid against the pillows. On the floor sat calmly were bunches of flat rugs—Avery vaguely recalling them to look like the ones in Louis' repair shop down in the market.