Tell Me You'll Miss Me | ✓

15. hot goss

I forced my feet into action after waving Nora a half-hearted goodbye. I was dreading the run-down I was going to have to give Dad and, worse, Summer about the deflating end I'd had to my fake-date. 

I guess I'd thought that because Nora believed our date was just to make Summer (and David) feel more comfortable, anything extra on top of her presence would be real. Obviously, I'd been wrong, and now my insides felt all yucky. How had I been totally played by my own scheme? 

I headed up to my front door and steeled myself for the grilling I was about to get. I opened the door as quietly as I could and tried to shut it just the same, but unfortunately Dad was in the living room and heard the faint click of the door. 

"There's my girl! How'd it go?" Dad called through, the volume of the TV dimming letting me know I couldn't get away with sneaking off upstairs without talking to him first. 

I winced as I crouched and fumbled with the fiddly little fasteners on my heels, before kicking them off violently and becoming a good few inches shorter than I had been all evening.

"Oh, um, you know," I said, sure that he didn't know at all.

My feet were thankful for their release, and I padded into the living room feeling like I was walking on air, even if my head was still somewhere down in my own personal hell. Dad was camped out on the couch with a bowl of popcorn larger than his head and some army-war-action film playing out on the TV in front of him. The volume was too low now to make out what any of the soliders were yelling about.

"I want all the hot goss," he said, emphasising his words with a raise of the eyebrows and flash of the eyes. He was grinning, knowing he was annoying me by being his usual extra self. "Gimme the low-down, the juicy deets--"

"Dad," I interrupted, upset that he'd managed to make me smile. Couldn't he tell things hadn't gone well? I wanted to wallow with a bucket of ice-cream, not get cheered up by him. 

"What? I just want to know how it went," he said, smiling more softly and patting the space on the couch beside him.

I moved closer, but didn't sit next to him, instead taking a seat up on the arm of the couch, feet on the cushion. "It-- um. It did not go well," I admitted.

Dad blinked, taken aback. "Really? Because Summer sent me a text that--"

I groaned loudly, but I was still smiling when I looked back at him. "Why does she still text you? You two are so embarrassing," I complained. Ever since Dad had given her his number in case of emergency, Summer had checked in with him and updated him on things. It was the worst, and that was putting it lightly. I mean, why was my best friend also best friends with my dad? Gross.

"Hey, I can't help that I'm a cool dad," he said, while launching a small fistful of popcorn in my direction.

I tried to catch some of it in my mouth, but the nearest piece of popcorn merely collided with my cheek and bounced off. 

"A bad miss," I said, using my best sports reporter voice. "Just like my date," I joked.

"What happened? Summer said it went so well! The text I got from her said something like, love-heart eyes emoji, sparkle emoji, little gray box, red heart emoji, then two more little gray boxes," he paused and shrugged, throwing more popcorn into his mouth. "Sounds pretty good, Jess."

I rolled my eyes. "Summer thinks it went well, but Nora totally friendzoned me after they left. We're not a thing. Like, super not a thing. She's so out of my league, I don't think she even thought about how I might like her for real, you know?"

"And do you?" Dad asked.

I cocked my head. "Do I, what?"

"Like her for real?" Dad repeated back at me.

I scoffed a little, because it was weird hearing those words come out of his mouth. It made me realise how childish I sounded, talking about my gross feelings. But it was a good question. Did I like her for real?

When I hadn't replied for a few moments, Dad took over. "You haven't known her very long, that's all. Plenty of cute girl-fish in the sea, you know," he said, wiggling his eyebrows at me. "Even if the other ones aren't very berry flavored," he teased, and I groaned again.

"You are beyond embarrassing, like, that doesn't even make sense," I said, shaking my head and smirking. 

Maybe he was right, though. Just because Nora was my dream girl, it didn't mean she actually was my Dream Girl. What did I even know about her besides the ad campaign that'd made her haunt my dreams? Also, side note: whoever designed that campaign deserved a serious raise. It'd been lodged in my subconscious for months, playing tricks on me.

The dreams had pretty much stopped, however, since I'd actually met Nora. I still had dreams from time to time, but not about anything so romantic or hazy. It was kind of a shame, but I'd hoped that it was a symptom of my real life making up for lost time, giving me my dream in reality, but... maybe my life wasn't supposed to be a dream. Or at least, not that dream.

"I don't know," I finally admitted. "I should get to know her better. My hopes were just... sky-high for tonight, I think."

"Easiest way to be disappointed," Dad tutted.

"Mm," I replied, shuffling off the arm of the couch to slump down and sit beside him properly. "I'll just live my life with middling aspirations, never daring to dream..." I sighed, my words laced with sarcasm.

"Attagirl," Dad smiled, chuckling, and when I turned to look at the boring war film he was watching, he bumped the volume up and pressed a reassuring kiss to the top of my head.