11. the roof, the stars, and you

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"Who's your plus one?"

"It's, uhm, my boyfriend."

"How did I not know you have a boyfriend?"

I bite my lip. Because we never talk. "I don't know, it's new I guess."

"Okay, well," my mother pauses, "I can put you guys into the same room, right? I feel your old enough that I can't separate you two."

"Do whatever you want," I say. "We don't really care."

"God, Elle. I wish everybody was like you, everybody's always complaining and asking for so much but you're always so content. More people should be like you. Right before this, I had a call with David's sister and she went ballistic on me. She was going on about how . . ."



The day had to come eventually when James would finally meet my dad

It's also the day I realise my dad cannot live alone because the house gets far too messy, and he's always too busy to even realise it. 

I'm sorting through the CDs and vinyls he's left all over the living room floor. They're all in their covers thankfully but not put back into their actual place in the little music bookshelf we've created. My dad sometimes reminds me of Jason Bateman's character in Juno, minus all the creepy parts when he's with Juno and seems like an absolute predator.

He walks into the living room with a face full of stubble (I've told him to shave too many times today) and is holding up two shirts. "Do I wear my fancy Kings of Leon shirt," he asks, holding up the new white shirt, "or my classic Korn shirt but I put a flannel on top. I feel the first makes me look polished but the second makes me look inviting."

I squint my eyes, "Where are you getting the idea the first one makes you look polished? Wear the second one."

My dad nods and leaves to go upstairs.

Morgan and my dad never really hit it off, they could eat dinner together and make small talk, but they never clicked. Didn't really have similar interests or the same type of humour, if I wasn't in the room with them it'd be dead silent most of the time.

He's the most important person in my life and I always want everyone I know to be approved by him. If they could be friends, that's even better.

My dad's added some Lana Del Ray into his collection while I've been away, it's Born To Die and I'm wondering I can convert him into being an absolute whore for her like I am. I'm guessing with his sentimental emo side, he probably likes Video Games and Dark Paradise.

The door bell rings, and I'm springing up, discarding Lana on the floor.

"He's here," I yell, so my dad knows to hurry up. I'm rushing to the door and stop at the mirror in the entrance for a moment, smoothing down my hair and adjusting the loose cardigan I've thrown around my dress--

Why am I trying to look nice? It's just James. Oh, Merlin, this fake dating thing is getting to my touch-starved self.

I open the door and am greeted by a very nervous James. He's holding flowers in one hand and a . . .

"Elle, this is a man after my heart."

My dads ran downstairs and is standing beside me, he has the biggest smile I've seen in a while. His eyes are trained on the Pearl Jam vinyl in James's arm. I'd mentioned it was his favourite band to James once, and he'd remembered.

"It's a special edition," James adds, "so it's a purple vinyl."

I'm getting pushed to the side and my dad's inviting James in, telling him how much he appreciates a Peal Jam man. He's showing James where to put his jacket and going on about Pearl Jam and . . . maybe this is it.

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