Claire's POV
In the library, the air smelled like printers working overtime and energy drinks. I was hunched over my textbook, my notes scattered like a battlefield.
I tried absorbing as much information as possible with a whole brain. Exam week was here in full swing, and it wasn't just the test that made me feel like I was drowning.
I tried talking to Vanessa again, but she kept avoiding me. I tried catching her in the hallway earlier between classes. I was desperate for a word, contact, or clue, but I missed a ghost.
She had spotted me from across the room and turned to make that sharp left into the bathroom, swinging her blue backpack over one shoulder.
I sprinted after her. Heck, I should have seen it all coming long ago, but it seemed I wasn't the quickest.
It was that feeling of being pushed against a wall to work out your way from the shadow and, worse, being disregarded.
I missed her so much, and I was ready for just about anything to regain her trust if she could give me another chance.
I shouted after her, "Vanessa!", but she did not even look back.
I stood waiting outside the restroom for ten minutes, maybe more.
The bell eventually rang, and I had to leave. She was making herself invisible, and damn, she was good at it. I can't blame her completely, though. After what she found out.
She probably thought it was too much to bear. When I finally got home that evening, the tension was building as I closed the door and threw my bag on the floor in the living room.
"Claire, is that you?" Dad called from the kitchen.
"Yeah," I said, trying to sound happy but not really pulling it off.
The smell was sharp and familiar, mixing with garlic sizzling on the stove. Cooking was his way to relax after work.
Tonight, he was really going for it. "Grab that parsley, will you?" he asked, nodding at the counter.
I picked it up and rinsed it under the tap, glad to be done. He came over while I was chopping and said,
"You look like a truck hit you." He kept his eyes on the cutting board. "Long day?"
"Exams," I said with a shrug, "Just stressful."
He stopped chopping and looked up, his brow furrowed. "Stressful enough to keep Vanessa away? She hasn't been over in a while. Or called, for that matter."
My stomach dropped.
Of course, he noticed. Vanessa had almost lived at our house since we were kids. Her absence was like a glaring neon sign instantly unraveling everything.
"Busy, huh?" Dad asked calmly.
I tried to avoid his gaze, but he noticed.
Why did he have to be so attentive?
Dad gently set the knife down, leaned on the counter, and crossed his arms.
"Yeah," I said, nodding.
"Really?" He asked, looking at me.
"It's nothing," I said, forcing a laugh. "We've both just been busy."
"Claire," he called softly.
I froze, the parsley still in my hands, forgotten. He said, "Look at me."
His voice was soft but firm. "Dad, I'm fine," I said, trying to convince myself.
"Claire," he said again, stepping closer, "that's what's going on."
I clenched my jaw and refused to meet his eyes.
"Claire, what's wrong?" He asked again.
My hands shook as I set the parsley aside. He reached out, his hand gentle on my shoulder.
"Hey," he said quietly. "I'm always here for you. You can tell me whatever it is."
That was it. The dam broke. The words tumbled out wrong whenever I tried to speak, and I drowned in sobs. I couldn't hold them anymore.
Dad pulled me into his arms as I cried into his chest. "I…I don't know what to do. I want her back, Dad," I cried.
"It's okay, honey," he murmured, stroking my hair. "It's okay, I'm here for you. Let it all out."
I wasn't sure how long I stood there crying as he soothed me.
The tears slowed and I gently pulled away. "Here," Dad said, giving me a dish towel to wipe the tears off my cheek.
"Thanks, Dad," I muttered, nodding though my throat still felt raw.
"Feel better?" he asked. I stared at the floor, hesitating. Did I want to talk about it? Could I manage to do it? The process of saying it out loud felt impossible.
"Yes, Dad," I answered and smiled.
"Now, tell me," he stated calmly. "What's really going on with you and Vanessa?"
I hesitated, unsure if I should tell him. "I…I can't," I responded.
"It's okay if you're not ready," he said, stepping back to the stove. "Whenever you're ready, I'm here."
Dad returned to cooking and I sighed. I knew I couldn't hide it from him for long. I wanted to get rid of the pain in my heart and he was there.
I couldn't take it anymore, so I let it out. "Dad," I called softly.
"Yes, darling," I replied.
"I'm in love with Rawl," I said.
The spatula fell from Dad's hand and I gulped.
"Wait…what?" he asked, turning to me, looking like he'd seen a ghost.
"I…I love Vanessa's dad," I stuttered, and the silence became loud.
Dad just stared at me, as if I'd told him I was gonna take it all back, swallow my words, and act like nothing was wrong. But it was too late for that now.
The truth is out now. There was no turning back.
He laughed, but it faded once he noticed my serious expression. "Claire, you're kidding right?" he asked.
"No, Dad. I'm serious," I replied. "I really love him."
Dad continued looking at me, not blinking for a second. The smell of burnt food filled the air and I turned my gaze to the pot.
"Dad, the food's burning!" I yelled and rushed to turn off the pot, but he was faster.
I slowly raised my face to meet his gaze and he rubbed his hand on his face. "Claire, what did you just say about Rawl?" He asked.