Belonging to the Bad Boy

Chapter 20

My dad had dragged Ranger by the collar of his leather jacket through the house, literally throwing him out and locking the door. To say he was angry was an understatement. His face was beetroot red, his eyes bulging as he yelled at me. The vein in his head looked as though it was going to pop, and the one in his throat as if it were to snap any second from the constant, overbearing tension of the strain from yelling.

The walls of the house shook and echoed, bouncing both the yells of mine and my dads voices around the house. I'm sure the neighbours heard every word we said, but that stopped neither of us. I was told I was irresponsible, childish and stupid. It hurt, truly it did. My dad and I had a relationship mostly as friends rather than parent and child, so to not only have him in parent mode but telling me I was stupid hit a nerve.

I told him that he was ridiculous, ignorant and awful. I regret most of what I said, but ignorant was like hitting a nail square on the head. He wouldn't listen, never gave me a chance to explain who Ranger was, what he was doing here in the first place, and the things he had done for me.

I locked myself in my room after our argument, and good that I did as he tried to follow me in to continue to argue. I don't care what anyone says about 'sticks and stones', I would get into a hundred physical fights before saying something that could damage a person or relationship.

It's been a fair few hours now since our argument, and if I had to guess I would say about three hours as it's now nine at night. I'm curled into my window seat, a blanket wrapped tightly around my shoulders as I watch the leaves flutter around on the ground outside. I'm deep in nothingness, just a world of my own, when I hear a gentle rapping against the door.

"Hey, Alessandra," I hear my dad's quiet voice through the door. I bury my chin into my knees, pulling them closer as I stare at the door, waiting to find out what he wants. When I don't get up to answer he sighs, and from the weird sound of the air leaving his mouth I can tell he's rubbing his face with his hand. "I bought pizza." I sigh, about to stand up. "Please, come eat." His voice is pleading and it breaks my heart.

It takes a couple of seconds and I make it to the door, opening it without hesitation. My dad is standing there, awkwardly holding a plate with two slices of pizza placed atop it. I look at his face and I can tell he's been crying, his eyes red and puffy and tear streak stains down his cheeks. He looked tired. I simply walk back into my room, sitting back on my window seat, pulling the blanket around me as I waited for him to follow me in.

He places the plate on my desk, making his way over and sitting on the opposite side, looking at me. "I'm sorry," we both mumble, chuckling sadly when we realise what we did.

"I am sorry, Alex. I don't like fighting with you," he says, rubbing his eyes with one hand. "And I'm sorry for the things I said."

I nod, sighing. "I'm sorry too. I didn't mean to say the things I did. It's just frustrating when you refuse to listen," I reply honestly, playing the with hem of the blanket.

He nods in response. "I know, you're right. I just... It's hard, you know? I had no idea who this tall, trouble making looking boy was, and without... without your mother here I didn't know what to do."

I instinctively reach up to my neck, playing with the small diamond laid against my chest when she's bought up. "I miss her," I say, the words flowing before I had a chance to stop them. "I-"

"Don't. Don't apologise. I know you do, and I do too. It's like she's been whispering in my ear that I was a dickhead after our argument." I laugh, knowing she would have said something like that. "I love you, and so does she."

"I love you too, dad. I really am sorry." We hug for a while, and for the next hour we talk. I tell him about Ranger, about how close George and I have become, how Damon is still my favourite pain in the arse. I tell him how much I miss my mother and we cry together. We eat pizza, and he struggles to come to terms with who I've decided to date. I don't argue, knowing any parent would feel the same. At some point I fall asleep, and my dad leaves me in peace, wrapping the blanket further around my shoulders and taking the mess we'd made out with him.