Waiting For You

Chapter Three

"We don't pick who we fall in love with. And it never happens as it should."                            

~Anonymous

Hunter 

"'Finally, I see you' the young princess said. The charming prince smiled and pressed a sweet kiss on her lips.

'You're as beautiful as I imagined' the prince said back. And like that the two soulmates lived happily ever after," I finished saying as my little sister's eyes started getting heavy.

"I can't wait to meet my prince charming," she muttered, voice soft and tired. "Have you?" I almost didn't hear her question. I set the book on her nightstand and ruffled her blonde hair.

"I think I have," I said and kissed her forehead. "Goodnight, princess," I added and headed out of her room. She beamed at me and huddled up under the covers. Her room was lit up light green, from her night lamp, that created shadows on her walls, looking like trees.

I drew her door closed and turned around only to see my father leaning against the wall next to me. I jumped, not expecting him there, muttering a curse word under my breath.

"So... you met your prince," he started folding his arms before his chest. My eyes bugged and I felt my voice go weak. "What's his name?" he asked a few seconds later, his face splitting up by a smile. Color rose to my cheeks and I lowered my gaze.

"Dad, I'm tired, can I go to bed?" I said awkwardly, running my hand through my hair.

"Oh ho ho, hell no. You're going to tell me all about this little soulmate of yours," he replied and draped an arm over my shoulders.

"Dad!" I pressed, but I knew there was no way of getting out of this. My father may have been a little pushy but he did it with good intentions. He knew where to draw the line.

"Come on, I'll make the coffee," he dismissed, patting my shoulder with his other hand. Ten minutes later we were sitting on the sofa, the clock next to the fireplace showing it was ten minutes before eleven o'clock. "So, his name?" he repeated taking a gulp of his coffee.

"His name is Alexander... well, Alex Clifford Richardson," I said with a small voice.

"Alexander Clifford Richardson? That's a mouthful of a name," he noted. I gave a small laugh and in my mind, an image of a six-year-old Alex formed, him trying to spell his name. Hell, my sister too had a problem trying to spell Aurora Anderson. "Richardson... Anderson... that's a little on the nose, huh?" my father went on and at this point, I knew he was babbling until I went on talking.

"Yeah. So, he goes to the same school as me, but we have never hung out. His group of friends is not the kind of crowd I like hanging out with".

"Meaning? What are they like?" Here it comes...

"They're homophobic".

My father was the kind of person that seemed angry and mean to strangers, yet in reality, he was anything but that. Truth be told he was very, very chill. He barely freaked out with anything, he completely understood the word boundaries and at the end of the day, he was there for me and Aurora. Calla said that he seemed mean due to his bone structure, or whatnot. His expression kind of always had a frown, even when relaxed. I was used to it, but others weren't. So, when my father, was angry he got scary. Crazy scary. And now was one of those times.

"Homophobic? Why would Alex hang out with them then?" he inquired.

"He, um, he is in the closet. And he's bisexual, though, I'm pretty sure they are also biphobic," I started mumbling, rubbing the back of my neck.