Chapter 43: The Rest of Our Lives

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(That title right there ^^^ is awesome. Would you read a book with that title?)

Speaking of books, I published the new book, the one i was talking about a while ago, earlier today. Really appreciate it if you'd check it out! Just head on over to my profile and you'll find it there. Do you think we can get it as popular as this one?

Speaking of popularity (sorry) 24K reads, over 700 votes, and over 1K comments! All of you guys are awesome and I love each and every one of you <3<3

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"Cass," Dad says seriously from where he's sitting at the dining room table across from me, our arms resting on the table in a similar manner.

He's already talked to Aaron, and when Aaron came up to my room to tell me Dad wanted to talk to me, he had a traumatized look on his face. He had also taken the opportunity to wrap me in a tight hug, his face buried in my neck.

I shake my head slightly to remove myself from thoughts about Aaron, remembering where I am and what I'm supposed to be doing.

"Dad," I reply.

His eyes twitches.

I really need to stop doing that; apparently, it's irritating. Well, not to me, but it irritated Kyle enough to the point where he broke my fucking leg, so...yeah, maybe I should stop.

Dad clears his throat and I remove myself from my thoughts to focus my attention back on him.

"Cass," he says again, in the same serious tone. "You're eighteen now, and that means that you have matured into a young lady." He pauses, obviously assuming I know where he's trying to go with this.

Doesn't he know I'm an idiot?

"A very beautiful young lady," he prompts after I raise my eyebrows.

I barely hold in my scoff.

"Alright, Dad, thanks for the compliment, I guess. Can I go now?"

"As you are a beautiful young lady," he continues, as if I'd never spoken. "And you are more mature than you were a couple of years ago, I have deemed it the appropriate time to have the talk with you."

What the fuck is the talk?

Dad gives me a meaningful look from across the table and my face pales.

Oh. That talk.

"Ew, Dad," I say, my face scrunched up in disgust. "I'm not doing anything like that for you to be giving me the talk."

Technically, I'm lying, but technically I'm not. Making out doesn't count as baby-making does it?

He holds up a hand, silencing me. "I've already talked to Aaron about this, and he's over at his house while his parents are giving him their expectations."

"Dad," I groan, dropping my face into my hands as I'm overcome with embarrassment. "Please don't."

I'm ignored, just like I thought I'd be.

"Do you know how to put a condom on a male's appendage?"

A series of fake gags leave my mouth.

Why is this happening to me?

And why do I want to cry?

"No, Dad, I do not."

What kind of question is that?

I feel myself shudder in disgust, and Dad stares off into space, thinking.

His eyes shift back to mine. "I'll call Aaron back over here and he can help show you."

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