42 • Perspective • 42

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The Beachforde hotel looked even more elegant than when I was here last

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The Beachforde hotel looked even more elegant than when I was here last. Amongst the rows of candlelit tables, individuals dressed in formal attire and waiters rushed around to meet their every command.

My Dad caught sight of me as I walked toward his table. He was sitting in the corner of the room looking at his phone, but he put it away and offered me a kind smile. I took him in as I approached him, and much like the other customers, he was wearing an expensive-looking shirt, and I caught a hint of his musky cologne.

If things were different, I would have hugged him thoughtlessly, but instead, I had to ignore how the look in my Dad's green eyes was telling me he wanted to wrap his arms around me. We weren't good right now, and inviting me to some over-priced dinner wouldn't make up for what he did.

I sat down quickly, dodging any opportunity for him to hug me. I didn't even want to be sat across from him. I didn't want to be at dinner with him. I didn't want to speak to him.

"Charlie, you look gorgeous." My Dad said, smiling at me as I awkwardly put a strand of hair behind my ear.

I felt my shoulders lift impassively before shrugging back down in response. Did he really think complimenting my appearance was going to win me over?

"I'm really glad you came." My Dad continued, ignoring the way I averted my gaze from his.

The guests at other tables weren't having the most exciting time, but I was sure they were having a better time than me.

"I'm not," I mumbled, looking at the time on my phone as I wondered what I could have been doing with my friends tonight instead. I could have snuck out of my window and run to Taylor or Joe. I could have stayed at there's until he left town again. I could have avoided this all together. Why didn't I?

My Dad was about to say something again when the waitress came over asking us what we wanted for dinner. I'd barely looked at the menu, but I answered quickly that I'd just have their seafood risotto and a glass of water. My Dad looked surprised by my quick response, but ordered bolognese and a glass of red wine for himself.

"I still can't believe you can eat seafood." My Dad said, shaking his head.

My Mom loved fish, but was impassive to seafood. My Dad and Alice hated seafood. I had more of my Moms taste in food than I did his.

"I like it," I stated.

My Dad nodded and glanced at the other customers having dinner as if he was trying to buy himself some time before he continued to try and talk to me.

"You seem to have settled into the new house." He said. "Those boys seem like they're good with you."

I felt the corner of my lip pulls back in irritation. "Mostly."

"They're the same age as you, aren't they?"

"Sort of," I nodded. "Sebastian's a senior, and the way our birthdays work out, he's almost two years older than me. Harry and Tommy are juniors like me. Harry's also almost a year older than me, but Tommy's just a couple months older than me."

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