Baby Love ── RICKY BOWEN¹

twenty-one. the promise

.·゜゜·　　·゜゜·．

Not to be dramatic, but I really want to hop into a hole and die. I've been thinking and thinking and thinking, and I've come to the conclusion that I'm just a big old' idiot. I haven't spoken to Ricky, nor have I spoken to anybody else from the drama department, especially after I ran out of the theater the way I did. Amy texted me an update, of course, before thoroughly apologizing for trapping me in a room with Ricky, assuming that my reason for running was claustrophobic. 

I wish it were that.

If I was just claustrophobic, maybe I would have passed out way before I ever got the chance to feel Ricky's lips on mine. Maybe I'd be saner if I never got to feel that feeling. But no, I'm a big dumbass and had to kiss my best friend to calm the ache I felt for him. And to make matters worse, it didn't even ease the feeling down, if anything it intensified. Now I want nothing more than to grab Ricky by his stupid face and just-

"Maritza." I turn my head, tearing my eyes away from the dull stars on my ceiling to the man in my doorway. My dad stands there, his button-up shirt pristine as always, hands tucked into his pockets. What catches me off guard, though, is the look on his face. My dad didn't speak much, but that didn't mean he wasn't expressive. When my mom isn't around, he's very expressive, from broad smiles to furrowed brows. But now, he stands at my door with a deep frown, and he's fidgeting. I've never seen him fidget before.

I quickly sit up in my bed, patting the spot in front of me. "What happened, Pa?"

He steps into my room, shutting the door behind him. Then he slowly makes his way to my bed, settling down in front of me. I can feel my heart beginning to race as anxiety radiates off of him, his fidgety behavior continuing as his fingers tap against his thigh. "You know I love you, right?" He says, only further concerning me.

I nod quickly, straightening up my posture. "Of course I do, Pa." His tenseness eases only slightly as he nods to me. "What's going on?"

Silence hangs between us for a brief moment, and I desperately want to break it with another question. But I stay silent. If I've learned anything, it's that it's best to give people the time they need to open up, not force them to do it. Even if it's my own father.

He breaks the silence with a sigh, and his fidgeting hand moves to pick up my own. I watch with a frown as he laces his fingers through mine, before placing it on his lap. Then he meets my eyes, deep regret evident in them. "I'm gonna divorce your mother, beba."

My breath hitched, my heart stopping for a brief moment. Divorce. I have so many questions. Way more than he's gonna wanna answer. Do I even want to ask them? Like, is he telling my mom soon, or have they already discussed it? Does Ben know? Do the twins know? Definitely not. They make a big deal out of small stuff like spilled cheerios, there's no way they'd be cute about a freaking divorce. I can't believe I'm gonna be a child of divorce. Does this automatically give me an excuse for being damaged?