Tie My Heartstring's ❦

charming

Katie

It's a warm afternoon as I walk home from New York University. I breathe the breeze in, as my long brown hair lifts in the wind. I am nineteen years old, and in my first year in college. While the experience is exhilarating, it echoes the familiar rhythm of high school. That reason is because, I commute from my dad's home.

We live on the upper east side, close enough to my schools campus. I'm lucky—I pay nothing for rent. Though I escape the dorm life, I can't escape my father. My father is an asshole. Plain and simple. He's always had a chip on his shoulder, and for the life of me, I can't figure out why. If it's not one thing, it's the other. He always manages to find something to complain about.

My parents had me when they were eighteen. Young love. My mom passed away when I was about five. My father never shares stories about her, he usually prefers to keep those memories tucked away. Since then, he hasn't tried to make what we have feel like a real relationship. When we spend time together which is often, it feels like he isn't really there. We are stuck in a silent agreement to coexist rather than connect.

I don't have many friends. The first thing I should probably clarify is that my lack of friends hasn't ever been about me being unlikable. People tried—some even got close. But my dad had a way of scaring everyone off before anything real could stick. That was high school. A small, private place where word traveled fast and reputations stuck harder. Since then, now in college, I've mostly kept to myself. The ironic part? Now he's constantly telling me I should branch out, make connections, find my people. As if he wasn't the reason I never learned how.

I turn onto our street, focusing on the sleek black car parked outside. The one that belongs to Hudson Rhodes, my dad's work partner. He has known my dad since college, and is thirty seven years old. He's eighteen years older than me, and the most handsome man i've ever seen. Tall, lean but broad-shouldered, he carries himself like he's always in control. His hair is a tousled, intentional kind of perfect. His jaw is sharp, always clenched a little too tight. And when he looks at me... it's like I'm being studied. It's overwhelming, but comfortable in a weird way.

I remember being a child and thinking he was the most sweet, warm, and kind man-alive. As I've grown older, he's become so serious. Never joking, the way he used to. The anticipation swirling around in my stomach is a clear signal that I care a lot about the opinion of Hudson Rhodes, as much as I can try and convince myself that I don't. I hate that things are weird between us, even though nothing has
happened.

Except the way he avoids me, making it feel like we've had issues in the past. When really, we've had no important interactions at all. As much as I wish I didn't care to know anything about him, it's hard not to want attention from him. Because he's unique. And so cute. I just don't understand why he acts like another strict dad—always telling me what I can't do and can do. I am not some child he can boss around whenever he so pleases. Yet for some pathetic unsaid reason, I allow him to anyways.

To be quite truthful I rather have a meaningless crush on my dad's friend, than someone at my college. I want nothing to do with boys my own age, their body odor and acne, how immature they can be. I am just simply not made for them. I push the door open, and the familiar sounds of my dad and Hudson working fill the air.
I smile remembering that my dad is leaving for a work trip in two days. He's heading to California to meet with important producers. That means Hudson will stay behind to 'house-sit.'

I take a deep breath and walk toward their studio, the door slightly ajar. "Hey, Dad, Hudson." The music abruptly stops, and both men snap their heads to me. My heart races as Hudson's dark eyes meet mine, an intensity there that makes me momentarily forget how to breathe. My dad breaks the tension, pausing the music that had filled the room. "Hi, flower, how was class today?" he suspiciously eyes me. I feel my cheeks heat up, at the ridiculous patronizing nickname. "Good," I mutter, my gaze darting back to Hudson. He chuckles softly under his breath, but his smile doesn't reach his eyes. "Something funny, Hudson?" I challenge, crossing my arms to keep my tone light, yet playful.