It's A Gay Thing

7 //

7 // Pris

I hang up from my two minute conversation with my dad. Like most fathers I hear, he doesn’t say much on the phone. He’s more talkative in person. It was the common themes: how is school? How’s your mom? Are you okay? And when will see each other next time?

I wish he wasn’t three states away, but my next door neighbor. Hell, I wish I lived with him, not my mom.

Dani hasn’t texted me today. Not even a good morning or anything. Maybe I just went overboard with this whole thing. Maybe she really wanted just for me to be her ‘bitch’ and nothing more. Well, me being taken for granted isn’t anything new. Moving on.

 My conscience wants me to think about something else, but Dani remains in my mind. It hurts more than I’m willing to admit.

I grab my phone from my nightstand and lay on my bed, scrolling through my social media. It rarely involves me. I mostly do it for investigative matters.

As I refresh the pages of various apps, I finally fall on the picture that breaks my heart. It’s Dani. In a club.

I sit back up and take a deep breath. At a glance, it really doesn’t seem like a big deal. She’s allowed to go out and dance all night if she desires. The problem is the connotation behind the club scene. It’s for single people who want to hook up and drink and screw in the bathrooms. That or you go dancing with your girlfriend. I’m not the second option, thus I can reasonably conclude that she’s there for the first one.

I’ve mentally collapsed. It was almost too good to be true. As if someone as hot as Dani would really care about someone as average as I am. I don’t want to seem weak and fragile but it’s stronger than I can handle. I start crying. Even though it wasn’t anything serious, it felt like everything was starting to fall into place and then, it was just a joke all along. Some things just aren’t fair.

Someone knocks on my door. It busts open and Neil reveals himself, “Dinner’s ready.”

His bright smile turns concerned when he sees the state I’m in.

“What’s wrong princess?” he asks, faking to be laughing but I know he’s truly curious.

I wipe off the tears with the back of my hand and rake my hair back with the other. I don’t even glance at him. I don’t want to explain what’s wrong.

“It’s nothing,” I tell him the biggest lie.

“It’s enough to make you cry,” he replies, sitting on the foot of my bed. “Nothing makes Pristina Lockhart break down.”

I shrug, “Clearly some things do.”

“Such as?”

Before I can answer him, he adds, “Does it have to do with that boy you saw yesterday?”

I look up at him. I don’t feel like dancing around the subject, “About that –”

“What did he do?” he asks, extremely protective all of a sudden.

I chuckle, “I wasn’t raped or anything.”

He seems a bit more relieved, “Then what it is?”

“It wasn’t about a boy. It’s about a girl,” I say slowly, staring at his face.

“Like a friend or?”

“Like I got all dressed up to see a girl.”

“Why?” he questions me.

Is he stupid? I’ve given him all the hints necessary to decipher this puzzle. I don’t know if it’s because he doesn’t believe it or if he just wants me to admit without him guessing. The second option would totally be in his style.