The New Student

Chapter 34

Naomi's POV

Dylan and I sat on the couch while his father sat the opposite of us. He stared at us deeply, unknown expressions flowing through his eyes. But anyone could tell, they weren't good ones. 

As we sat in silence, I took the time to realize how much Dylan looked like his dad. Sharp jawline that could slice diamonds, tan skin, the almond-shaped eyes that crested perfectly in the corners. But the only thing that didn't line up, was the dark brown eyes that he had, unlike Dylan's- who were green with a dash of hazel. I'm guessing he got it from his mother. 

Dylan's dad had on a dark blue navy suit that squeezed his muscles, obviously showing that he worked out. I looked down to his polished shoes, not a single mark on them. Looking along his hands, I could tell there were tattoos going up his arms from the way ink decorated his hands, disappearing under his suit jacket. 

His hair was shorter than Dylan's. It was neatly combed back with a few streaks of gray here and there. There was not one strand hair, all of them stayed in their huddle, like they were molded there forever.

I continued to look him up and down, trying to find if he was hiding something, but something caught my eye- he still wore his ring. I studied the shining golden band that sat perfectly around his left ring finger. Not once did I see a dull spot. I guess sometimes, it's too painful to let go of the things we still cherish.  

It felt like we had been sitting there for hours, just him staring back and forth between us, eyeing our matching outfits. To be honest, I wasn't at all nervous, even though I felt like I should be. I actually was angry, full with rage in fact. The fact that he came without telling us before hand, like we didn't already  have plans. 

And on top of that, he hasn't even thought to text nor call his son within a month. No one should ever go that long without talking to their child. But yet, he just waltzed in here, with no guilt but with pure pride and cockiness. Thinking he was something, something that held more power than everyone in the room. Which he wasn't wrong, but just because he has power doesn't make him right. 

After what felt like forever, Dylan finally spoke up. 

"Why are you here?" he questioned, I could sense the anger in his tone that he was trying to control. 

"I just wanted to see how my son is doing. Can I not do that?" he responded with a question, his strong Chinese accent shining through as he raised an eyebrow in the process with an innocent look on his face.

"No, you cannot. Especially after a month, a month, of not saying a word to me, not even a single text and you think you can just come in here without even telling me before hand and just say nothing? With no reason?" Dylan question more.

Dylan's father seemed to ponder his response before responding. 

"I don't have to come here with a reason or need to tell you when I'm coming. This is my house after all. You're just living in it." he tried to justify. Dylan just scoffed and then smirked. 

"Actually, that's where you're wrong. This is not your house. It is our  house." Dylan corrected. His father raised an eyebrow at this statement. 

"Perhaps you have forgotten father, but after mom died, you fell apart. We both did. You resorted to just drinking and never gave a care about anything in the world after that. You put the house up for sale but we didn't have anywhere else to go. I had to handle all the finances, I had to find the house and pay for it because you gambled all your money away for alcohol and drugs. I did it all, by, my, self." Dylan finalized, his voice cracking at the end. He was leaned forward now, with his finger slamming on the table in front of us with every word he had said. 

"So don't you dare come in here, unannounced, and tell me this is your house. " he ordered, anger radiating through his tone. 

Silence was the next sound to greet us, well along with the tension in the room. Dylan's father's face showed more than anger, but almost a hint of shock and proudness. And the last thing that Dylan and I expected for him to do, was start laughing. 

He was laughing. Fucking laughing. I fully wholehearted one at that. 

His laughed echoed throughout the house. The next thing that followed was the loud claps coming from his hands. I looked at Dylan with shock to see him staring his father down, with anger and no surprise was shown on his face, seeming like he was almost used to it. 

Once his father had finally stopped, he looked at Dylan. 

"Oh, that was good. That was really good." he said, wiping a non-existent tear from his eye. 

The fuck? What's his issue?

"I haven't laughed like that in ages. Thank you for that." he continued. "Okay, but enough with the jokes." he said with a cold tone, his face suddenly going expressionless. 

Bipolar much?

"I think we all know why I'm really here." he stated sitting up straight, hands clasped together, and one leg over another, in a business-like stance. It was silent as we waited for him to continue. But he never did. 

Instead, his eyes were right on me. Emotionless as he studied me. I put my walls up, making sure not a single expression was shown through my face, even though he was intimidating as shit. 

"Can I help you?" I ask, tired of his staring. The words flew out my mouth before I could stop them, but I didn't regret it. 

"Oh wow, she speaks." Dylan's dad said in fake shock. I smirk grew across my face. 

"Surprise!" I retorted with jazz hands. I watched Dylan grin from the corner of his eye, knowing I wasn't going to let him talk to me any way. 

"Well, as you can see my son and I have some important information to talk about so, you can leave now." Dylan's dad said, ignoring my earlier statement. I covered the shock that wanted to show on my face.

"I'll pass." I retort, sitting back on the couch, allowing my tense muscles to slightly relax before crossing a leg over another and grasping my hands within each other, mocking his exact stance. 

Want to be petty? Two can play at that game. This seemed to annoy him, which made me laugh. 

"I don't know what you think of me, Mr. Lee. I honestly don't care. But let me tell you this," I say leaning towards him. "You can hate me, you can throw all the disrespectful words and phrases that you would like my way but I'm not leaving your son's side like you did." I finish, forgetting all about his position that he held and exactly who I was talking to. But naturally, I didn't give a shit. 

Mr. Lee seemed shocked with the ending of my sentence by the way his face went stern and his fist balled up. He looked like he had so much to say, but never said anything. I looked at Dylan to see him already staring at me with so much love and lust in his eyes, it made me smile. 

"Yeah," Dylan started, turning his glance to his father. 

"What she said."