My Hired Boyfriend (Completed)

13. Flour Power and Guilt

13.

            “Hazel!” Coda roars, throwing his hands up in front of him. The car radio is on full blast, the windshield wipers, turn signal, alarm and air condition all on full throttle high.

            Coda fumbles with his seatbelt, struggling to turn off all the buttons that I had switched onto high.

            And then he’s stumbling out of the car, disorientated.

           Holdng up the water hose, I aim, a small smirk on my face.

            “Prepare to get wrecked,” I say wickedly, pushing the water gun trigger.

            ~*~

            Several hours earlier.

            “She hates me doesn’t she?” I ask glumly, pulling my knees to my chest. Coda crashes onto the couch beside me, making a loud thud.

            “Well, she doesn’t particularly like you. But I highly doubt she hates you,” Coda says, hiding a laugh.

            I frown, sighing. “I practically flooded her laundry room.”

            “That, you did do,” Coda agrees, his side pressing against mine.

            I turn to glare at him and Coda holds his hands up in surrender. “Just saying. Plus, I told her you were really tired and not really yourself.”

            “That makes me sound like I’m stupid,” I protest.

            “Is that wrong?” Coda asks me, enjoying this too much.

            Growling in frustration, I unwind my legs from my curled up position and stand up.

            “I’m making a phone call,” I grumble, snatching his phone off the counter.

            I can still hear Coda’s laughter- even outside the small hotel room.

            Dialing the number engrained in my brain, I lean against the wall and wait.

            “Hello?” My dad answers on the fourth ring.

            “Daddy?” I ask. “it’s me Hazel.”

            “Sweetie, How are you? Are you hurt?” He asks me, sounding worried.

            I smile softly. “No, I’m fine, we just ran into some bad weather-“

            “Was it thundering?” my dad asks quietly, knowingly.

            I look down at my feet, unable to produce the words to tell him everything Coda and I have been through.

            “Yeah, but Coda was there and he-he was-“ I stumble over my words.

            “-Does he know?” My dad asks gently.

            “No, he doesn’t really know the backstory. I was too scared to tell him,” I choke out, not even understanding where all this emotion was coming out.

            My dad makes a small noise of understanding.

            “Well, sweetheart, it’s up to you whether or not you want to tell him. Being in a relationship requires trust and I may be biased, but I’ve known Coda for a while. He’s impulsive and hot-tempered most of the time, but he’s a good kid. I wouldn’t just let anyone off the street take care of you so I hope you trust me when I say that you can trust him,” my dad says.