A Stupid, Hopeless Crush

Chapter-22 You Like Me?

I sit out in the balcony of my bedroom early next morning, studying for my Psychology test tomorrow, when there’s a knock on my door. “Come in,” I exclaim, not looking up from my notes.

“Hey, there, kiddo,” says an extremely familiar voice, and I look up to see Dad smiling down at me. I grin at him, surprised. “Hey, Dad! How come you’re up so early on a Sunday? It’s seven in the morning.”

“Kylee, I always wake up this early,” he says, taking a seat on the chair in front of me. “You usually wake up after nine. Who do you think cooks breakfast on Sundays?”

My eyes widen. “I thought Mom did! How have I not known this for almost eighteen years?!”

He chuckles. “Anyway, I saw you sitting out in the balcony when I was coming back from my jog, so I thought we should have some father-daughter time.”

“Well, I’m glad you came,” I say with a warm smile. “I haven’t been able to properly sit with you in such a long time.”

“I know. Hey, in fact, screw studying. Come with me, and we’ll go out and play soccer or something,” Dad suggests eagerly, his eyes sparkling like a little kid’s.

My father, ladies and gentlemen. A man of many wonders is he.

I grin, shut my books, and say, “Okay, old man. Get ready to get your butt kicked.”

“Oh, really? Sweetheart, I played varsity soccer. You’re going to be eating dust soon.” He narrows his eyes at me. I lean forward and narrow my eyes at him. “We’ll see.”

We dash out of the room, grabbing my ball and jacket on the way, and we get into Dad’s car quickly, driving to a nearby park with a large open ground surrounded by a jogging track. Fortunately, there’s no one on the ground so early, except for a few joggers jogging on the track, so we have the whole area to ourselves.

“Okay, see those two trees there?” Dad says, and I nod. “The space between that is your goalpost. Mine is right here where I’m standing. Whoever scores two goals first wins.”
I nod and move back. Dad places the ball on the ground in front of him, and looks at me. “Are you ready?”

“I’m ready.”

“Ready steady?”

“Yes!”

“Are you completely sure?” he asks, dragging out his sentences. This irks me.

“Just kick the ball, old man!” I yell out, and he shrugs. “Well, you asked for it.” He moves back a bit, and kicks the ball hard, sending it flying in the air.

Uh-oh.

I move back and intercept it with my head, which, I admit, makes me see stars for a second. I shake off the pain and start moving towards the goalpost.

“Not so fast, kiddo.” Out of nowhere, Dad appears and effortlessly takes the ball, kicking it in the direction of his goalpost.

Okay, he is actually really good.

I run as fast as I can and slide on the grass at the last moment, kicking the ball away from his legs. I stand up quickly and run towards the ball, taking it and veering it to the direction of my goalpost. I sense Dad gaining onto me, so I kick the ball hard, sending it flying through the air and swooshing through the post.

“YESSS!! Goal one is mine, Hahaha!” I dance around, shimmying my hips. Dad, though panting, bursts out laughing when he sees my dance. “Alright, come on, nobody likes a sore winner,” he says, getting the ball and throwing it to me. I grin and catch it, placing it in front of me. “Are you ready now?” I mock him with a cheeky grin.