the kink club • luke hemmings ✔️

31. the one where her dad is delusional.

chapter thirty-one:
the one where her dad is delusional.

"Hi." I say, awkwardly fumbling with the silk band of my corsage, an equally as awkward look on my face. It seems to me that practically everything is awkward, so it's no mystery as to why I want to go home.

"Hello," my father says back, blinking at me with a blank expression.

I let a small silence pass, unsure of what to say exactly, or even what to say next. Nothing seems suitable; nothing at all. "So," I begin, or at least attemp to. "You... you came."

"As did you."

"Right." I fidget in my seat, uncomfortable, before staring back down at my fingers. I wouldn't be here right now if it wasn't for Poppy and her guilt-tripping abilities, making me loathe the girl even more. "How have you been?"

"Business is booming," he replies monotonously, tapping on the handle of his leather briefcase. I had seen it so much as a child that now, the mere sight of it makes my stomach twist. "And yourself?"

"The tips are great," I respond optimistically, wanting nothing more than to pluck the tension out of the cold air. When he doesn't laugh and his face stays absolutely expressionless, however, I know that's not an option.

"The tips," my father nods slowly. "From working in that..."

"Café."

"Right. The coffee shop." he drags out, each and every syllable sounding like bittem-back venom seeping through the tip of his tongue. If anyone has a spiteful way with words, it's my old man. You almost always feel like re-evaluating your life decisions after one solid conversation with him, and that's a promise.

Another silence washes over us- this time, more uncomfortable than the last. I consider breaking it. But then I remember how quiet is always better than conflict, so I keep my mouth zipped shut.

"Any... men?" I snap my head in my father's direction, almost laughing at his hesitance. "Because you know better than anyone not to do any of that, Sophie. I didn't raise you in that manner. You are not to procrastinate your life away for some one-off. Studies first, you know that."

"Okay."

"Where do you live, now?" he asks again, and I straighten my posture. Last time he had checked, I was rooming with a straight-A student, aspirations of becoming a developing researcher someday drilled into her head every night as we tidied our campus dorms. Now, I live with three other girls and (technically, since it's rare that they ever stay at their own apartment) three other guys- all of whom have zero aspirations, zero goals, and evidently, not enough life ambitions to please the man that I call my father.

"New York."

"I know that. Where in the Big Apple?" he grunts, obviously not pleased with my answer.

"I don't know, Dad."

"What do you mean you don't know?"

"It's an apartment block, but I can't tell you where because the city's pretty big." I deadpan, readying myself for the lecture that's about to come.

We may not have seen each other in a while, but I know that won't stop him. Once he gets started, he rambles on, about how I'm wasting my life and how my old friends back in High School have had much better turn-outs than me, how even Poppy's found herself someone stable to live off of. I know it all, and when the sudden splurge falls from his lips, it's obvious he hasn't changed.