Filed to story: Help! I’m Falling for My Dad’s Best Friend Novel Free
I hadn’t heard Brandon sneak up behind me. “Yeah,” I nod. “I’m fine.”
Brandon looks suspicious and doesn’t seem inclined to let it go. “You look… distraught.”
I cringe. “Girl problems. It’s a bitch. You wouldn’t understand.”
Brandon turns an icky shade of green. “I guess I wouldn’t.”
My mood doesn’t improve over dinner. Dad snagged Angus steaks from Mal’s and grilled them to mouth-watering perfection. Mom makes my favorite garlic mashed potatoes and baked Mac-n-cheese. I’m surrounded by the comfort food I crave, and all I want to do is fling a giant glob of my dinner at Carolyn Somersby.
The bitch.
I don’t know if she’s aware my mom is trying her hand matchmaking, but Carolyn is on Mr. Collins like white on rice. Hell, she doesn’t even try to be subtle.
At least my “come hither” game had been smooth, slick, seductive.
She’s dressed like a two-bit whore, face painted like a clown and she’s bombarding Mr. Collins with stupid ass questions. She brays like a mule with every answer. I’m tempted to slam a fist on the table and yell at my secret lover, “Vegas, now”.
But Mr. Collins is being himself, quiet and polite. He’s reserved while Carolyn comes on to him so hard it’s embarrassing.
Hell, even her son notices. Poor guy looks uncomfortable while my parents turn a blind eye.
I unleash my anger on the food and hope my jealousy isn’t visible. I pile a steak, mashed potatoes and Mac-n-cheese high on my plate and shove more into my mouth the moment I swallow each mouthful.
If I’ve got my face stuffed, I won’t be able to say anything nasty.
“Christ, Harper,” my Dad’s gruff voice cuts through yet another of Carolyn’s questions. “You hungry?”
“Not really, but it’s eat or kill the bitch next to my boyfriend.” Luckily, my words are muffled by the food in my mouth and all they hear is incoherent babbling.
My mom shakes her head. “Manners, Harper.”
Brandon, strangely, isn’t turned off by my actions. “I like girls with healthy appetites.”
I stab a large chunk of steak and wolf it down. “f**k you,” I reply, but it probably sounds like “uh huh” to everyone else.
By the time dessert has rolled around I’m able to keep my anger in check, masking my emotions with a typical teenager’s expression. The one that says I’m-Bored-Life-Sucks-And-I’d-Rather-Not-Be-Here-So-f**k-You.
Ahem.
I dig into the German chocolate cake Mom snagged at the store while my dad uncorks a few bottles of wine and distributes the liquid generously. Brandon and I are passed up since we’re not twenty-one. We have to suffer with grape juice instead.
Ugh.
Carolyn, nice and tipsy now, gets even louder and more annoying. I eat my dessert slowly, not giving myself a reason to leave the table just yet. It’s not that I don’t trust him… I just can’t bear the thought of some bitch in heat shaking her ass around my man. Right in front of my eyes, and there’s nothing I can do about the situation.
Or maybe… I can.
Seeing I’ve calmed down and mellowed out, my mom chuckles over her glass of Pinot. “Feeling better?”
I answer around a mouthful of cake. “Whut-e-vuh.”
“Oh, what happened?” Carolyn chimes in, but her sugary tone doesn’t hold an ounce of sincerity. She’s just talking in an attempt to dominate the conversation.
“Girls.” My mom rolls her eyes. “Harper just broke up with her boyfriend.”
“Ooh.” The woman responds, but it sounds a bit more like a person’s response to an LOLCat and not to someone losing a lover. “I’m so sorry. I bet you liked him a lot, yeah?”
I blurt out another handful of obscenities masked by chocolate cake.
“Harper, don’t talk with your mouth full.” My mom’s voice is chiding, a single eye narrowed.
“That’s okay, LeAnn, I remember being her age. Ooh, how fun it was…” The Queen of Slutastica proceeds to bore everyone out of their minds with the story of a gorgeous eighteen-year-old girl whose beauty was so great boys fought to win her affections. (Which means, she’s talking about herself.)
Even though she was constantly tempted by her numerous paramours, her heart always belonged to one man: Brandon’s dad. Since they had both been young they’d had their ups and downs, trials and tribulations; but in the end, they got married. Then the adorableness that is Brandon was born.
Life was a fairy tale until Brandon’s father was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer.
Now, I am not an ?ber-die-in-hell bitch. Really.
It’s just that we’ve heard this story three times since we’d arrived. I don’t think it’s been more than five hours.
This woe-is-me whining is annoying. Anyone can listen to my thoughts and tell me I’m evil and not nice and whatever, but I can’t stand the “feel sorry for me” shtick.
And right about now I realize Carolyn Somersby is no longer a threat. She’s a ditz.