Samantha
It's around six o'clock in the evening and I'm in the living room of our mansion. I plopped down on the pastel couch and let out a tired sigh. It took me three hours to get ready. I tried on, like, a hundred dresses. I'm not even exaggerating about that.
My Dad was on the opposite couch, reading a newspaper. He was in a new, black suit and grey tie, his brown hair neatly gelled back.
I propped my legs up on the tea table and stretched.
I saw him fold the newspaper up neatly and place it beside him, giving me his undivided attention.
"Tonight's the dance, isn't it?"
"Duh," I said, gesturing to my outfit, which was a black, body hugging-dress, with off shoulder full length sleeves. I paired it with black stilettos and open hair that I straightened. I thought I'd go light on the lipstick, sticking to a nude pink shade. I did my eyebrows but decided to abandon the rest of my make up routine that I usually follow through for dances, parties, etc.
He smiled and analysed my outfit with a quick run of his similar blue-green eyes.
"Oh, yeah. You look beautiful, Sam," he said, chuckling lightly.
"Thank you, Daddy," I said, smiling.
"So, who's the lucky guy tonight?"
I was dreading this.
I hesitated. I looked anywhere but at him.
"Are you going alone? That's a first. I was looking forward to making the next boy you bring home awkward and sweating."
I smiled nervously at that.
"I. . ."
"Hm?" he prompted.
Alright, I got this. Just be honest, Sam, come on.
"I'm going with my friend."
"I can still make him suffer," he shrugged.
"I-it's a girl, Dad."
There was a pause.
"Oh. . ."
"Yeah."
He shrugged to himself.
"I like a challenge."
"Dad!"
He laughed loudly at that.
That's when my Mom walked in. My parents were going on a date while I would be at the dance.
"Hope you have fun at the dance, sweetie!" she said, kissing me on the forehead.
"I'll pick her up at her place, Dad. You're not gonna see her tonight."
"Aww. . ."
"Her?" my Mom jumped in, suddenly very anxious, seriousness seeping into her expression.
I gulped.
"Y-Yeah, I thought I'd go with one of my friends tonight."
"Oh, okay. Have fun, honey." She visibly relaxed. I wanted to confront her passive expression of homophobia but decided against it. Such an attempt has never been successful. And it probably never will be.
"I will. And hope you guys do, too. Even though you're old and boring."
"Hey. . ." my Dad teasingly warned.
"Alright, let's go. You can take the BMW, Sam," my Mom said.
"Okay, Mom. Love you guys."
"Love you, too!" they said in unison and walked out.
I let out a sigh of relief. They simply cannot get the wrong ideas about me with any girl. Memories of a certain someone flooded my mind that I tried hard to erase. In desperation, I whipped out my phone from my floral, red purse and checked my texts.
I had a bunch from Jared asking me to bring booze. Which I wasn't gonna do anyways. I rolled my eyes and clicked on Harley's texts.
Harley: hey.
Harley: u picking me up, right?
I began texting back.
Me: yes.
I immediately got a reply.
Harley: u know my address?
Me: yeah, I'm coming.
Harley: rn?
Me: i'll be over in ten min.
Harley: k.
I let out a tired sigh and walked out of the house.
***
Hey,
Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Lemme know what you think.
Love you,
queenred