Started as His Girlfriend (Sequel to "Started as His Tutor")

Pinkie Promise

Vincent's POV

I watch as Mom sets down her biggest purse onto the kitchen table and shoves an entire box of tissues inside along with a camera.

"I get why you're bringing the camera, but the tissues?"

"Oh, I'm going to ball my eyes out," Mom says. "I might as well bring snack," she shrugs, going to the pantry for granola bars.

"Don't be upset. I'll visit you during breaks," I try to comfort her.

"Oh, I'm not upset you're leaving for college. I'm upset about Wendy."

I take a big sigh.

"Mom, I already told you. Wendy and I-"

"Are perfect for each other," she interrupts. "I can't believe you guys broke up... I'm getting upset again, so let's move on," Mom frowns, zipping up her bag.

"Mommy! I can't find my glitter tutu!" Veronica shouts from upstairs.

"Coming!" Mom shouts back before turning to scan me. "Vincent, didn't I tell you to iron your graduation gown last night?"

"Too late now, " I shrug.

"You're helpless," Mom shakes her head, walking out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

As Mom leaves, Dad walks into the kitchen, straightening his tie. He sees me and we freeze, looking at each other without saying anything. I pick up my graduation cap and get ready to leave when he speaks up.

"Vincent, may I have a word with you?"

I'm caught off guard. Usually, he gives me commands, not questions. Standing for a second, I consider his request.

"Please," he reiterates.

His voice is not cold and formal like usual. Instead it is soft-spoken. Given that he's not forcing me and is already seating himself at the kitchen table, I sit down as well. Setting my cap on the table, I let my hands fall into my lap. I don't know how to behave around him with just us two, so I stay still without fidgeting.

Dad clears his throat and clasps his hand together and sets them on the table, as if he's at a business meeting. He notices it and sets his hands onto his lap like me, sitting straight and still.

"What is it?" I ask, a bit cold since I'm used to using the tone with him.

"Oh, um..." he pauses. Dad is the type of person to be direct and straight to the point. Seeing him ponder his words makes me more attentive. "I'm sorry."

My eyes widen for a second, but I look down the table slightly to avoid Dad's face. He does the same, looking off to the side. We recompose ourselves, and he continues.

"I'm sorry I've been hard on you. I thought I knew what was best for you, but I don't. Wendy does..."

"What do you mean?"

He pauses again in deep thought.

"Those acceptance letters you got weren't from the business schools I made you apply to. They were from schools Wendy applied to for you."

Wendy applied for me? And Dad knew?

"I threw away the business school letters," he confesses.

"So, the school I'm going to isn't for business?"

"No. Wendy picked other ones with good biology programs."

Since Dad had forced me to apply to several colleges known for their business programs, I grudgingly did it, not bothering to give their names even a second glance after applying. Even when the acceptance letters I had received were from completely different colleges, I guess I didn't notice.