21 | bad feeling

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Cal drives me home tonight, and when the car stops in front of my house, I'm still feeling flustered because of what we did at the beach

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Cal drives me home tonight, and when the car stops in front of my house, I'm still feeling flustered because of what we did at the beach.

I don't think that I'll be able to sleep tonight. All I will be able to think of are his touch, his voice... I can't even finish my sentence.

However, now that I look at my house, my heart feels heavy. I wish I wouldn't have to deal with my parents. The atmosphere in the car suddenly tenses, and Cal turns silent too.

I turn to look at him, who has his eyes on the road ahead, his hands on the steering wheel.

"Cal."

He looks surprised when I call him, as though he was deep in thought and I just snapped him back. He looks tense, while sadness is evident in his eyes. My heart sinks, because even though I know that inviting him to come into my house would be ideal for a couple who has bonded with each other's family, this case doesn't happen to Cal. So instead of doing that, I lean over, touch his arm, and give him a soft kiss on the lips.

Cal kisses me back, cupping my cheek. This kiss is different. This kiss is slow, sweet, and nothing lustful like what we did back then inside this very same car.

When we pull away, I give him a small smile. "I'll see you again."

Cal sighs and returns my smile. I step out of the car and watch as he starts driving again. I sigh, walk toward the door, and enter my house.

Just as I close the door, a voice startles me.

"Where have you been?" Dad's question almost makes me jump.

Slowly, I turn around, placing my palm over my heart, feeling it beating fast. Usually, I'm not this affected when I hear people yell, but when it's Dad doing it at me, my heart feels like dropping to a deep pit.

Before I can utter any word, Dad asks, "You were with Cal, weren't you?" His face hardens.

The words stick in my throat. There's no use in lying, because he would definitely figure it out from my expression. I'm so easy to read.

"We just went to the beach," I say.

Well, we did something more, but telling Dad about that will only dig my own grave. And Cal's.

No, thank you. I still want my boyfriend to keep breathing and all his body parts intact.

Dad stares at me in disbelief. Hearing nothing, I walk past him.

"Don't play with fire, Mia," he warns. There's so much venom in his voice that it sends chills through my body.

I ball my fist on my side and glare at him. He knows about what he said, and it frustrates me because I know it too. I know that I might be indeed playing with fire. Cal is everything I should avoid.

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