The 20 Year Old Virgin | Herophine

Chapter 20: Proper Date

Jo

When the fuck will this dinner ever end?

I've been sitting here, playing with my ridiculously overpriced dinner plate and listening to mum and dad blabber on and on about Katherine and her new project and the studio she's planning to setup in her house in LA.

Seriously, who's fucking birthday is it today?

It would have been better had they not come to visit me at all if this is how they are going to act the entire time. But of course they had to fly all the way here for my birthday. After all, I am still their daughter. It's all for show though. All for their motherfucking image of the perfect family. I don't even know who they're trying to impress here. It's not like people here in Atlanta know who they are.

"Josephine, that gentleman from earlier. Hero, was he?" Dad asks and for the first time in the last hour, I pay attention from the mere mention of Hero's name.

I know, pathetic aren't I?

"Yeah? What about him dad?" I ask. I swear if they say something bad about Hero right now, I'm definitely walking out on them before dessert. And I never skip on dessert... ever.

"He's a swell guy. Wouldn't you introduce him to your sister? I'm sure they'll be perfect for each other."

The fuck they are!

My previous annoyance has now mutated into full on rage. I could feel my face heat in anger and my breathing coming in short and shallow as adrenaline pumps into my veins fuelled by my fury. "Katherine can find another man for herself dad. Hero's already taken... by me," I grit before I could stop myself.

The look of disbelief flashes on both my parents' faces and they stare at me, eyes wide and mouths agape. "Then why didn't you introduce him to us as your boyfriend earlier this morning?" Mum challenges, unconvinced. Of course they'd think I'm making this shit up. Never have I once dated anyone remotely close to Hero-the decent, conservative, comes-from-a-good-family type of guy.

"We just got together very recently, I didn't think it was appropriate to introduce him this early in our relationship," I shrug nonchalantly.

Liar.

"None sense. You once brought a guy you just met at some club the night before in our house and that guys isn't even half as decent as Hero," dad interjects with a scowl. See what I mean?

"It's just... whatever. He's busy. Can we have dessert now please?" I deliberately change the topic. Huffing, mum calls for the hostess to serve the itty bitty cake they ordered for me which for sure costs more than a new pair of Converse.

Finally, the dinner from hell comes to an end and I book my parents an Uber to take them to the airport, not even bothering to take them there myself. I'm so over them being here and disturbing my peace. Well, not exactly peace, I think as images of my fight with Hero last night flashes through my mind. I'd gladly take arguing with Hero than spending an entire day with my parents though, in a fucking heartbeat.

I decide to walk the way back to the hotel to destress. My parents tend to have that effect on me. If only I weren't wearing this goddamn heels, I'd run the way back just to feel the wind whipping through me. I've always loved the feeling of running towards one goal, a finish line. The run itself is liberating; it frees my spirit from all the unnecessary noises around me and all I hear is the wind and the sound of my steady breathing in sync with my every step. And then I see the finish line and I feel the rush of the last of my adrenaline pump through my veins, pushing me to somehow go faster despite the exhaustion until finally... I cross that line. That single line that holds more meaning than just being a mere line. The self gratification I feel after crossing it, the satisfaction of accomplishing something using nothing but my tiny body and nothing else.