TWO - THE PINK FLOWER

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The cafe her father had chosen was quaint.

Not too far off campus, she was left to simmer in silence as he skimmed over the menu.

He had always been this way. The only conversation he could carry was the disappointment in why she had chosen Oxford over Cambridge. It had been the same conversation for the last six months.

His connections to Cambridge had garnered her a full-ride opportunity at the University. It was closer to home and safer with the idea of him being on campus. He knew the school like the back of his hand, and everything in relation to Cambridge fared better.

She had a suspicion that the conversation would take place again today. She didn't know if there was a day when he did bring it up in some form when they met up.

Gemma leaned back into the booth of the cafe, appetite gone before she had even looked over the menu.

Mr. Syles had placed down the paper at the arrival of the waitress.

"What'll it be for you two?"

"Peppermint tea, thank you."

Her dad eyed her warily before smiling back at the waitress, her smile radiant as she awaited his order.

"A cheese sandwich with a piece of fruit and a cuppa green tea will do, darling. Thank you."

The waitress nodded, taking the menus away and leaving them to each other's company. Only Gemma wished the waitress had stayed. She was a good buffer.

"You're not eating?" He asked, staring at her pointedly.

"Not hungry."

He breathed through his nose. She knew what was coming.

"What were you doing hanging around with that Tom Bennett?"

Gemma scoffed. "I'd hardly call it hanging around. He asked if I'd like to chip in on a bet. I declined, then you showed up shortly after."

He let out what sounded like a laugh, but there was no humor behind his eyes.

"Him being at Oxford is exactly a big reason why Cambridge would've been the better option. Even if your mother went to Oxford, it doesn't mean you can't have the same experiences or choices. Gem, it would be better in every way."

Her shoulders deflated.

He didn't talk about her mother often. He refused every opportunity to speak of her if possible.

Him bringing her up meant he had exhausted all other options to convince her to transfer to Cambridge.

Her tea arrived, and the conversation paused, the silence bubbling up around them as it sucked out the oxygen from her lungs. She could feel herself suffocating already, and they had not been here ten minutes.

Once his tea had arrived, he had taken a sip, eyeing her over the rim of the cup. She had kept her gaze set on the table.

"I want you to transfer to Cambridge next term."

Her jaw dropped.

"No. I'm happy at Oxford. I've made friends and–"

"What friends? Tom Bennett isn't the friendly type."

"Why do you care so much about this, Tom Bennett? He has nothing to do with my studies. We barely met each other today."

His exhale had revealed his exhaustion with this conversation. If he pushed, it would just be them arguing back and forth about the eighteen-year-old juvenile.

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