Tell Me You'll Miss Me | ✓

6. smart mouth

"I'm home, kiddo!"

Dad's voice echoed down the hall, reaching my sacred spot on the couch. I was so comfortably slouched down against the cushions that I might as well have been in bed. The couch was doing its best to swallow me whole, but the oversized mustard hoodie I was drowning in had first dibs.

Summer had left after a phone call from her parents had involved a let's go out for pizza bribe. She'd figured it was probably for the best because I still had Martinez's assignment to finish, and for a second I'd totally forgotten that I'd lied to her about that so I could ditch out on sitting with her at lunch. Sitting under the oak tree from my dreams had not been worth it, so it hadn't really stuck in my mind. I'd nearly given myself away for the hopeless romantic I grossly, truly was - but remembered myself at the last minute. Martinez's assignment, right. Totally.

Instead of working on the assignment I'd secretly already finished two days ago, I'd spent the time more wisely: binge-watching trash on TV.

Dad wandered into the living room, following the sound of the latest episode of my favorite reality cooking show. The ice-cream machine was malfunctioning and it was causing chaos. I turned my head to look at him and say hi, but instead just dumbly blinked at the inner side of my hoodie's hood for a moment before brushing it back off my hair.

"Good day at work, old man?"

"Same as ever. Sharon was highly disappointed to hear I'd made cupcakes but that they weren't for the office." He grinned, ditching his jacket and bag on the two-seater.

I snorted. "She's flirting. There's no way anyone's that excited about your cooking, Dad." He crossed over to where I was sat to kiss the top of my hair and then shove my head away gently.

"Can you believe this?" Dad said, chuckling and looking around the room and then looking up at the sky. "This ungrateful daughter of ours and her smart mouth. What did I do to deserve this, huh?"

I laughed and pushed myself back up on the couch, reaching for the TV remote and turning down the volume on the drama just as one of the contestants got brutally eliminated. I pulled my legs up to sit cross-legged and peered over at Dad as he pottered around in the kitchen, making himself a snack.

I was wondering how to tell Dad about the strangeness that'd gone down. I wondered if maybe he knew who - to quote Summer - the very berry smoothie babe was, but I figured if I didn't know, there was no way he would. I started thinking I should open with the Cynthia thing - interior design. She does interior design. Her husband's a talent agent. They have a daughter.

All totally normal. Don't be weird about it. Just don't be weird about it. Please, me, don't be weird about it.

"So, I met the neighbors."

Good start. Not weird.

"Oh! Great. What are they like? Did they like the cupcakes?"

I nodded. "They seem-- nice. Really nice. Cynthia says she likes boats," I teased.

"You asked her that?" Dad laughed, shaking his head. "At least we'll have something to talk about when we eventually meet," he said.

"Exactly." A pause. Keep it normal, Jess. You can do this. "Her husband's a talent agent," I said, measuredly. I was trying to keep everything as neutral as possible, but Dad had other plans.

"Whoah, a talent agent?" He blew out a low whistle. "That's interesting. Who does he represent? Anyone really famous? Can he get Kanye to come to my birthday party?" Dad grinned, wandering back over to the couch with a decaf coffee and a plate with half a baguette on it, the insides loaded up with all kinds of junk that needed eating from the fridge. He never let anything go bad.

I shrugged and stalled with an eloquent "Um," that dragged out about three seconds too long.

"You didn't ask?" He sounded almost hurt.

"Well-- I mean, definitely not about the Kanye thing," I smirked, suppressing a laugh when he clicked his fingers as if to say darn in response. "But, um. He represents their daughter. She's a model. She does commercials? Summer knows more about it than I do."

That had to do, right? He couldn't expect me to have given them the third degree on their first day in the neighborhood.

"You took Summer? How many cupcakes did she eat?"

I gave Dad a scandalised look, as if I couldn't believe he'd dare jump to the conclusion that she'd take cupcakes away from their intended recipients. In reality? He and Summer were tight enough that she probably could've been his adopted daughter, easily. He cracked up quick, slurping his coffee with a smirk.

I made a little noise of disdain, shaking my head. "That is just-- so rude? I can't believe you would even-- like, that's just-- two. She stole two," I admitted, cackling a laugh that almost mirrored Summer's own bubbly, happy cackle.

"And their daughter," Dad continued, "is she about your age? Will she be in your classes?"

My stomach flipped. Oh, God. Would she? How was I supposed to concentrate if being in class I felt like I was back in my hazy, rose-tinted dreams? Nora would ruin everything.

"Um. I don't know. Probably? She's-- she looks-- she's like... around my age, maybe," I stammered out.

Dad quirked an eyebrow but took another sip of his drink instead of chasing me down on how I suddenly couldn't get a word out. Nora had me tongue-tied, and I'd barely even had the chance to meet her.