The check is delivered just in time. Dad hands over his credit card, then signs the receipt, and we both stand. He speaks loud enough for everyone near us to hear. “We’ll have to get together again soon, son.”
He pulls me into a tight hug but shows no emotion. It’s just an action for him without any meaning behind it. I force a smile and get the hell out of there as quickly as I can. He doesn’t follow me.
Once I’m in my truck, I pull out of the parking lot and head toward the gym to work off some of my frustrations. Keeping an extra bag of clean clothes with me comes in handy at times like this. The lunch itself didn’t go terribly bad, but too much unspoken tension has lingered between us for years. To my father, I’m a failure, or at least that’s how he makes me feel. What sucks is, even after all this time, a part of me still wants to make him proud.
It doesn’t take me long to park, go inside the gym, and change. I grab some gloves and put them on, then enter one of the training areas. With everything I have, I work out all of my pent-up annoyance. I’m gasping for air as I push myself to the limit. It doesn’t take long for exhaustion to hit, and I’m thankful I found this escape after graduation. While getting my undergrad degree, I kept busy training and playing football. It helped me cope, and I needed that when I left. Boxing keeps me sane.
My arms feel like Jell-O, and I suck in deep breaths, trying to cool down as I grab my bag and go back to the truck. I pull out my cell phone and text all my friends to see if they want to go out tonight. Considering I’m gonna be forced to work with dead people for the next six months to a year, I need to be with the living while I can. Before I reverse, text messages come like crazy. Brandon has plans with Lennon, but Liam and Hunter are down. The three of us together only means one thing—trouble. I grin because that’s exactly what I need. Tonight, we’re gonna relive our frat days. Fuck, I can’t wait.
I go home and put my dirty clothes in the wash, then hop in the shower. After I’m dressed, I decide to head to the bar and pre-game. Even though that’s probably a bad idea, I don’t give a damn. By the time Hunter and Liam arrive, I’m three shots and a beer in.
“Dude, are you already fucking drunk?” Hunter asks with a smirk.
“Not yet!” I yell over the music.
Liam places his hand on my shoulder. “Ready to get this party started?”
“Fuck yeah!” I tell him as he orders double shots of tequila for the three of us. We’re the loud, annoying guys at the bar, but I give no fucks. We take our shots, and Hunter orders another round. I’m tempted to text our other roommate to come hang out with us, but she’s been so busy with work that I’m sure she’s already in bed.
“How’d it go today with your dad?” Liam asks before we shoot down the alcohol. I’ve already gotten to the point in the night where it all tastes like water, so I just grin like an idiot.
“The same as always. He reminded me of how much of a dick he is and how much of a disappointment I am.”
“Fuck him!” Hunter says. “He’s just like my dad. Both assholes.”
“Totally.” I nod and laugh. Since Hunter’s dad is in politics, he grew up in the same type of household as me. Their relationship is just as rocky, but he’s totally written his father off. I wish I could do the same, but since I hope to one day be working as a forensic investigator, and that department reports directly to the DA, he’ll always be in my life in one way or another.
The music blares, and I find myself needing to sit because I’m too wobbly on my feet to stand. Hunter and Liam are both snagged by ladies and led to the dance floor. Instead of trying to follow along, I pull out my phone and start scanning through my contacts and come across Sophie’s name. Sweet Sophie. Just seeing her name programmed in my phone makes my heart pound. Our friendship hasn’t changed much over the last year, and I still think about her kisses and the way she tasted, though I shouldn’t. I don’t want to give her the wrong idea by getting too close, but anytime I’m with the guys and she’s there, it’s hard to take my eyes off her. I know my rejection stung, but I wish she’d believe me when I tell her it’s what’s best for her. That doesn’t mean I don’t wish I were capable of giving her more.