The Hothead and The Ice Queen

Fourteen

The following morning, I woke up with the widest smile on my face; it could put the Grand Canyon to shame. Jumping out of bed, I quickly got myself ready for the day. The arm sling made the process that much longer, especially because I was right-handed. Ever put makeup on with your nondominant hand? What about putting on jewelry? Or using one hand to put on jeans?

Dad said he wanted to help in any way he could, so he was on jewelry duty, and he even offered to do my hair. He hadn't done that since I was a little girl. And there was never a time when I disliked what he did. This time wasn't any different.

Upon arriving downstairs, I saw dad busy at the stove, whistling a merry tune. "Hi again, dad!"

He turned around at the sound of my voice and a wide smile adorned his face. "Hey! Long time no see, snowflake! How you feeling?"

"I feel good. My arm barely hurts even after the struggle to put on my jeans." He nodded his head with a smile before kissing my hair. Then he continued the breakfast preparations. While he plated our eggs, I took the toast out of the toaster and spread butter on the surfaces as best as I could with one working arm. I awkwardly held the toast with my right hand– gimpy arm– and not-so-expertly scraped the butter over the toast with my left– my nondominant hand. It suddenly dawned on me that writing notes today would be nearly impossible if I wanted them to be legible.

When I finally finished my poor attempt, I joined Dad at the table and took my seat. We started eating in silence, but I could tell my dad was seconds away from bursting because he had something to say the way he grinned and bounced in his seat. I just wasn't sure if I wanted him to say it the way he was eyeing me like he knew the juiciest secret.

As I took a bite of my toast, he asked, "Your face was pretty red when Ms. Andrews was leaving last night. Any particular reason?"

I swallowed my bite, wincing as it scratched my throat on the way down. Humming, I took a swig of orange juice, partially to ease my throat, but mostly to stall. After setting my cup down, the clink echoing throughout the silent kitchen, my round eyes met Dad's expectant gaze.

Releasing a short breath, I replied, "Ms. Andrews not-so-subtly commented on the chemistry between Warren and me– said we would make a cute couple. She also said that Warren looked at me the same way I looked at him– like the only person in the world." I sighed and messed with my braid. "It didn't help that Warren saw my red face and called me out on it."

"Are you gonna tell him?"

I shook my head. "We have such a great friendship. I don't want to ruin what we have."

"What if he reciprocates your feelings? What if, like you, he's just worried about ruining your friendship?" As I not-so-gracefully shoveled eggs into my both, he added, "Think about it. I've seen how you light up at the mere mention of his name. And when he's around, ooh, forget it, you're so bright, you could be seen from space."

"Da-ad," I whined. "We haven't established any type of labels yet. Just leave it be."

He shrugged innocently with a knowing smile. "Hey, you know I'm right. Besides, you guys were planning on going on a date, right? But as your dad I feel obligated to tell you that I don't like the idea of you dating."

"Again, we don't have a label. We're just super close." Though, being his little girl, his only little girl gave him the right to feel protective over me.

When we finished, Dad helped me scrape our plates into the garbage and organize them in the washer. "Now, baby, Warren's a great kid, and I like him, but mark my words if he hurts you, he'll have to answer to me."

That brought a grin to my face as I giggled and wrapped my arm around his waist, smushing my cheek against his toned stomach. "I love you."

He kissed the crown of my head. "I love you too, snowflake."