A year after losing her older sister in a tragic accident, Charlie's Mom marries the father of the most popular boys in school. Still grieving, Charlie struggles to accept her new family and gets involved with her stepbrothers worst enemy, the capta...
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I almost dropped my coffee as I took in his appearance.
I stood still, watching him as he rummaged through his pocket, without noticing me. I was in awe, but not out of admiration or intrigue. I was in awe that I was stood in front of someone who had confined themselves to only exist in my memory.
My Dad pulled out an old familiar beaten up wallet. I was pretty sure he'd had it for over twenty years. From where I was standing I could even see the picture he kept in it. It was a picture I had almost forgotten was taken until it was right in front of me once again.
It didn't take him long to notice a teenage girl staring at him. I watched him as he lifted up a pair of sunglasses, which covered his eyes. His familiar green eyes widened as recognition washed over his face. Familiar green eyes took me in, widening like he was gazing at a storm he wasn't expecting. I knew then he hadn't expected to run into me here. Yet, here we both were.
"Charlie?" He said, his voice exasperated with shock.
The familiar voice struck me like an insult on my middle school playgrounds. The difference was the people who'd usually comfort me over the trivial things that made me want to run and hide, had disappeared from my life.
His face still seemed kind, making you feel like you could tell him anything and no one in the world would find out. And from experience I knew that was true. When I was little and come home in a mood, he'd let me have an extra cookie after dinner if I let him on the big secret as to why I was upset. Cookie's weren't enough for me anymore.
His skin was more tanned than it used to be and the lines by his eyes were more visible. His usual chocolate brown hair was now specked with strands of grey hair.
"How... how have you been?" He asked me, his signature confident tone of voice not quite up to standard.
I felt my lips pull back slightly as I looked at him. My mind had a million things to say to him, but I couldn't seem to get the words out. There were too many things to say. Too many.
I glanced at Billy in an attempt to distract myself from the person who was stood in front of me. I couldn't do this right now. I didn't want to do this right now. I wasn't sure I'd ever want to do it.
"You know him?" Billy asked me, meeting my eyes as I managed a slight nod.
I could feel my eyes widening as I looked at Billy and then back at him. "He's my Dad." I choked out, forcing my body to face my father once again. "What are you doing here?"
My Dad looked like he wanted to ask who Billy was and introduce himself as Mark, but he didn't. He seemed more interested in answering my questions. "I came to see you. I've been trying to call you. Did you get my voicemails or texts? I left a few."
I narrowed my eyes at him. I knew I'd been ignoring his texts and phone calls, but I hadn't checked to see if voicemails accompanied them. Apparently they did. I never listened to voicemails.
