speak now | jack hughes DISCONTINUED

chapter six

Bailey Cameron

Once I got back to my dorm and relaxed a bit, I decided I'd talk to Jack when he came back from his away game. For now, however, my dad was heading through Newark on the way to a conference or something for his work, and brought up getting together for lunch to catch up.

"Hey Lia, I'm meeting dad for lunch, I'll be back in a few hours," I called, grabbing my keys from the small kitchen counter and heading towards the door. I saw Amelia's head pop out of the bathroom. I had already told caught her up on everything with Jack and that stuff, which she had taken surprisingly well. Or, better than expected, since it was Amelia, I should say.

"Can I come? I love your dad! He's so cool," She exclaimed. "Remember last summer at the river house when he took us tubing, and he drove the boat around in circles, so we hit a really big wave and got thrown, like, seven feet into the air? And then he did it again?"

I laughed, "Yes! I landed on my back and had the biggest bruise for ages after." My dad and I have this little house along the Colorado River in California, and we go there for a week or two every summer. Last year, we brought some of our family and friends up for the week of Fourth of July.

It was very interesting, to say the least.

"Or when my dad and Uncle Benny got super drunk and crashed the golfcart into the tree in the backyard?"

"Oh my God! Didn't they bail out before it actually crashed? Their faces were priceless though," Amelia said as she came out of the bathroom. Steam and that post-hot shower smell billowed out into the rest of the dorm.

"Yep. That trip was such a shitshow, but it was so fun," I chuckled, shaking my head. So much had happened that week.

"It was. Oh! And the food," Amelia did a little chefs' kiss, "that was to die for. Your dad makes the best burgers."

"I hope you never tell him you said that. That'll boost his cooking ego, by like, a million. He thinks he's the next Gordon Ramsey or something. Y'know, he used to binge-watch Hell's Kitchen. Probably still does, too," I said, checking my phone for time. I'd leave in a minute.

Dad always had a knack for cooking. He taught me how to cook when I was little. I wasn't too bad myself, but definitely not as good as dad. He could make anything you asked, even if he'd never made it before, perfectly.

"I'd pay millions to see him get his own cooking show," Amelia joked as she brushed out her wet hair and hopped up on the counter.

"That'd be the true Hell's Kitchen," I shuddered. As good as dad's food was, he's the messiest cook—or just person in general—that I know.

"It'd be amazing."

I was about to respond, but realized I had began to run late. "It totally would. I gotta go, though, because you've officially caused me to run behind. See you later?" I backed out the door, waiting for Amelia to respond.

"Uh, maybe. Probably," She nodded, giving me a thumbs up. I returned it before shutting the door.

-

I as soon as I stepped into the restaurant that Dad and I had agreed to meet at, I was greeted with a huge bear hug. I only knew one person who gave hugs like that one.

"Dad!" I laughed as he practically picked me up off the ground. It immediately made me realize how much I had missed him. Missed this.

"Hey, kiddo!" He released his hold on me and ruffled my hair. I didn't mind, even if the action had messed it up slightly, he'd been doing that for as long as I could remember. It was probably natural for him. "C'mon, I got a table over here already."