Fly Away

27 - daddy issues

Song: The Neighbourhood - Daddy Issues (Slowed + Reverb)

Mia

The car ride is silent.

We're in a fancy vehicle that I don't know the name of, and Rocco isn't driving.

He's sitting next to me in the backseat, staring straight ahead at the back of the passenger seat head rest. I take the time to admire his side profile, not caring that I'm staring.

Dark hair perfect against his light skin, eyebrows slightly furrowed in concentration. His plump
lips are in a firm, straight line and the angle of his jaw is strong and sharp against the minimal light shining through the window next to him.

I feel lucky that I get to look at him. Hell, anyone is because I have no idea how someone can be so imperfectly perfect.

It's kind of overwhelming to be honest, and I look away because I'm reminded of my situation.

I squeeze my hands together to stop them from shaking in anticipation from seeing my father. A huge chunk of me wants to tell the driver to stop the car and turn back to the apartment, but another more firmer part of me wants to get this done.

See what my father has to say to me and get it over with so I can maybe enjoy my time at this charity event.

The nerves won't subside, but only increase as I think about all of the people who will be there. I've heard about events like this where almost everyone and all clans are invited, and I can't help but feel a tiny bit scared at the prospect.

My inexperience in this life will surely show and I wrack my brain for potential conversation starters if I need them.

We pull up outside of a large stone building with golden framed glass doors and a very regal air about it.

It's an intimidating structure, and I stare up at it, looking through the glass doors to see a few crowds of people hovering around inside.

A door shuts beside me and a passing thought of locking the doors from the inside catches me of guard.

I breathe once to calm my racing heart but it doesn't do much to quench the nervousness that is almost consuming.

Someone opens my door and a tattooed hand enters my field of vision. I look up and meet those hazel eyes, my racing heart calming slightly as I focus in on that face.

He seems to see something on mine and bends down against the open car door, his eyes flickering all over my face like he's trying to gauge what's wrong with me.

I contemplate telling him that my father wants to speak to me and that I'm scared of what will happen if something goes wrong, but his voice breaks me out of my overthinking.

"Stay by my side, okay?" He doesn't ask me if I'm okay or tell me that everything will be fine, and somehow I'm thankful that he doesn't because I probably would have broken down right there and then if he had.

I breathe in once more and take his still outstretched hand, his large callused palm enveloping mine in a firm grip as he helps me out of the car.

The feel of his fingertips on my knuckles grounds me and sends a flurry of butterflies swarming to the pit of my stomach.

He doesn't let my hand go when the car door shuts behind us, but instead takes it with his other hand and places it on his arm, tucking both his hands in his pocket.