Letting you go [COMPLETE]

Chapter 23

Unedited. 

Halfway through, this chapter decided to get really depressing . . . I fixed it though!

Go and check out @AliceWielder, her stories are great!

_______________

Dad drops me off at James' house the next day, just after three thirty. It's a Monday so James is only just home from school. The drive doesn't take as long; dad familiar with the route already.

I still haven't mentioned the kiss to mum or dad. They're already acting overbearing as it is—asking if anything went wrong, if I was okay. I can't exactly blurt out that I had my first kiss—and it was the best moment of my life. Well, that wasn't true. The second time it had been amazing—the first, not so much.

They'll be happy for me, I know that. Mum will probably cry—acting overjoyed enough for the both of us. Then she'll demand details, not letting me stop until she's happy she knows everything. Dad, on the other hand, won't be so easy to convince. If I don't time it right, he'll stampede his way into James' house, ready to go to war for me. That won't end well—for anyone.

"Are you going to get out?"

I glance over at dad, his hands resting on the steering wheel loosely. He's staring at me, the corner of his mouth turning up. Shaking my head, I glance at myself in the car mirror. My hair is thrown in a haphazard bun, strands everywhere, my face is make-up free—and it does nothing to hide how pale I am. I'm not wearing anything special either, just jeans and a random shirt I'd seen in my cupboard. "Should I have put some effort in, dad? I don't look too bad, do I?"

Dad frowns. "Care to tell me why you'd need to put effort in?"

I'm an idiot, I think. He hasn't even asked about James and I—if there even is an us. "No reason, dad."

He continues to stare at me and I know he sees right through the lie. "Try that again, would you?"

Sighing, I glance away. "Fine dad. I may or not be dating someone," I say, the words coming out in a rush.

"Someone?" Dad's voice isn't angry, just carefully controlled. It's worse than his anger.

"James, dad," I mutter, unable to look him in the eye.

"And how did this happen?" he demands.

Uncomfortable, I shrug, playing with the ends of my hair. I watch cars drive by as an excuse to avoid dad's eyes. "Dad, he's expecting me. I should go."

Dad sighs. "I'm not mad at you."

"You'll be mad at him," I mutter, glancing to the house. The front door is open and I know they're waiting for me. "I'm not worried about me."

"You've been stressing about this," dad mutters, clearly concerned. "Your colour is off."

"I'm just pale today, dad," I mutter, knowing the words are a lie. It means I don't have enough fluid in my body and I'll need to go on IV drip. I can only hope it doesn't come to that. The last time I'd gone in because of this reason, I had stayed in the hospital for a month, body too weak to leave. "I feel fine. Honestly."

Dad sighs. "We're seeing your oncologist tomorrow about the lung transplant. I'll ask them about it." He reaches out, putting a hand on my shoulder. I look up at him. There's concern in his glassy eyes, as well as a little fear. "I don't want to let you go in, but I want you to enjoy it, in case you're stuck in hospital again. But if anything happens—even if it's just slight dizziness—, you call me. Straight away. They better drive you to the hospital as well."