Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 107077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
I don’t have time for guys. And certainly not ones like the blond football player.
I mean…come on.
He’s a campus playboy who takes nothing but football seriously.
I almost snort at such a ridiculous notion.
If there’s an upside to the situation, it’s that I’ll get home at a decent hour and can hit the sack earlier than anticipated. A prick of guilt stabs at me for bailing on him the way I did.
Until I remember the gorgeous girl standing at the table, more than eager to help him.
As soon as a flicker of jealousy ignites in the pit of my belly, I ruthlessly stomp it out until there’s nothing left.
“Lola?”
My feet grind to a halt as recognition slams into me. No more than a dozen feet away from where I stand, a man rises from one of the metal benches strategically placed throughout campus.
Tony.
That’s all it takes for air to get wedged in the middle of my throat as I stare at the person I called Papa once upon a time. He doesn’t look all that different. His build is still slim, and, even in the darkness that surrounds us with only lamplight for illumination, I can make out the graying around his temples. The lines bracketing his eyes and mouth have deepened.
Honestly, I never thought I’d see him again. The fact that he stalked me on campus is disturbing. Why would he go to such great lengths when he spent more than a decade ignoring me?
Once the shock wears off and I’ve steeled every bit of emotion, I force my voice to remain calm. “What are you doing here?”
He takes a few steps in my direction, carefully closing the distance between us. “I wanted to talk with you.”
I straighten my shoulders and tilt my head. “Why?”
Something unidentifiable flickers in his dark eyes before he glances away. Instead of answering the question, he points to the bench and asks one of his own. “Do you have a few minutes to sit and talk?”
With him?
No way.
Even though there’s nothing humorous about the situation, laughter rises in my throat and my fingers tighten around the padded strap of my bag, as if that will protect me from the emotional damage this man is capable of inflicting. Over the years, his disinterest and neglect have eroded my self-confidence. It’s always been a thought buzzing around in the back of my brain that if your own father doesn’t have the time or inclination to bother with you, who will?
There are times when I wonder if that’s the reason I never allow anyone too close. Not only guys, but girls as well. I’ve experienced enough rejection and heartache over the years. I don’t need more.
“Sorry, can’t. I’m busy.” When I take a hasty step in retreat, panic flashes across his expression.
It’s an unexpected reaction and piques my curiosity, but not enough to stick around and find out what the reason behind it is.
“Please?” He plows a hand through his thinning hair.
I remember a time when it was thick and full. As shiny and glossy as a raven’s wing. Now, it looks as if it’s been ravaged by the hands of time.
“I’m, ah, sorry for the lack of communication,” he says before glancing away.
Lack of communication?
That’s a joke, right?
How am I supposed to respond to that?
When I remain silent, lips pressed together until they feel bloodless, he shifts his stance, shoving his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. “It was never intentional. I suppose life just got in the way.”
Of seeing his daughter?
I fold my arms tightly across my chest, not bothering to dignify that excuse with a response. “What do you want, Tony?”
I can’t bring myself to call this stranger Papa. He hasn’t been one—at least not to me—since he packed up his bags and walked out the door.
“To sit down and have a conversation. That’s it.”
“Sorry, we don’t have anything to talk about.” That being said, I swing around and turn my back to him.
I don’t care if I have to take an alternate route to the parking lot. I just need to get away as quickly as possible. My heart is jackhammering against my ribcage with so much force that it’s actually painful. Part of me wonders if it’ll explode from my chest.
There were so many nights after he abandoned us that I cried myself to sleep because I had no idea how to handle the situation I’d been thrusted into. Those were the times when I needed this man to step up and be my parent. Even if they were divorced, he could have remained in my life and offered support. Anything would have been appreciated. But there was nothing.
So…if he’s delusional enough to think he can crash into my life now, he’s in for a rude awakening. As far as I’m concerned, it’s too little, too late.