Perfectly Imperfect

5

An annoying song played on my phone. I groaned, pulling the covers to duck under them, closing my eyes and trying to pretend that the noise wasn't there. It didn't work. It never did, but that was the exact reason I'd put up that song as my alarm to wake up.

Huffing out, I dragged myself out of bed to the desk where I'd left my phone to charge. It was fully charged now, I unplugged it and hopped on the bed again. I checked my email and Facebook feed before answering the couple of messages I had from friends back in California. I also commented a few pictures before I jumped out of bed and got my clothes from my suitcase. Haley was supposed to free some space from her closet, but I had a feeling she was still mad at me and that was her own way of acting out in protest.

Thankfully, I didn't have to fight anyone for the bathroom. That's why I'd set up my alarm earlier today. I took a quick shower and dressed up before putting my contact lenses and applying some makeup. The weather was getting warmer, so I figured a nice denim skirt and a white tank top would be in order.

Ever since I moved to the sunny California, I'd found a newfound love for skirts. I had several in different colors and length. I didn't do the short-short like many girls did, though. I didn't think I could pull them out since I had an average weight and I always thought that those were for super skinny girls.

Brushing my hair, I stepped down to the kitchen. The aroma of coffee had already filled up the house. Dad was sipping from his mug when I came in. "Hello, princess."

My lips instantly tugged up. I was a total Daddy's girl. Both my parents were doting, but I had a slight preference over Dad. Mom's favorites were the twins, although she would never admit it out loud, because they were the little ones. Yet, my father and I had a special connection. We both loved sports, even though I absolutely sucked at playing them, and we used to watch a few games on the TV as my sisters and Mom made a mess in the kitchen baking cookies and such.

I had a complete aversion to the kitchen.

I couldn't cook properly, even if I tried. I loved helping him out in the grill, something that he relished on. I could cut veggies and such. That was my only culinary talent. Then again, we always had the deepest talks whilst he grilled. It was our alone time.

I padded to him and kissed him on the cheek. "Hi Dad."

"Coffee?" he didn't wait for me to answer, as he stood up and grabbed another mug from one of the cabinets.

"Thanks." I sat down on the stool next to him. He'd been reading through some files from work. As he placed the mug on the table, he closed the file before seating next to me.

His brown-dark hair had a few streaks of gray that hadn't been there a year ago. There were also new crinkles around his eyes. "How are you?" He asked as his gaze was soft and condescending.

Meaning that Mom had already talked to him.

There is no way out of this but being honest.

I glanced at my coffee for a moment. "I'm adjusting," I murmured still not gazing at him.

"Are you angry?"

My eyes cut to him. I'm not. I feel cheated. Call me immature, but that was exactly how I felt. "I'm not." I frowned, before hugging the mug with my right hand. I loved the warmness that seeped through it. "I'm disappointed?" I shook my head. "I don't know. I'm being childish," I shrugged.

Dad pursed his lips. "I'm sorry you feel that way." He took a sip of his coffee. "We never said anything because we didn't feel it was important."

I sighed before bringing the mug to my lips. The bitter taste of dark coffee felt like heaven. "Well, I feel like you guys lied to me. So it's a big deal for me." I confessed softly, my voice laced with honesty. "I might be blowing things out of proportion, though." I added after a moment of thick silence.