I Don't Want to Fall in Love... With You

Elijah

I had poured my second glass of whiskey when the front door opened and my lovely little pups went for my equally excited daughter.

        She dropped her bag by the door and stood by the archway, petting each boy enthusiastically.

        "How was work?"

        I grunted. After Anika tried cornering me in my office, things didn't get any better. My secretary decided to pile me with a high amount of cases and they never seemed to stop. It honestly felt like client after client, without chance of a break.

        But I smiled fondly anyway.

        "It was fine, hon. How was school?"

        She shrugged, taking a seat next to me on the leather futon. She did it too softly one might wonder if there was something wrong.

        "School-y. Nothing much happened." She rubbed her lips together. I'd seen that look upon my little girl's face a few times. "Dad, how can you tell if a boy is into you?"

        I raised an eyebrow. This was new, at least to me. My Emily had never expressed interest in dating before, she'd always been dedicated to her studies.

        Finally, it was time to be her father, not just any other regular dad.

        "Well... has he asked you out?"

        Her lovely gold irises met mine.

        "I'm not sure. He asked if I was free to hang out and I said yes right away, because not only is he the most popular boy in the entire school but we actually have a good time together."

        I loved Emily to bits, of course I did. She was my little girl and I'd cared after her over the past few years on my own because I had to. I stepped up to the plate because it turned up vacant. Now, she was the only female in my life that I loved unconditionally.

        But she was also clueless. Although she was surely a clever girl, she definitely missed signals. Especially when it came to the opposite sex, it seemed.

        I leaned forward on my knees, touching a hand to hers. Her palms were sweaty.

        "Well, it looks to me that he's asked you out. Will you be flying solo?"

        She sniggered, offering me a smile. She resembled her mother so much when she did that.

        "No, his friends will be around – that's partly why I'm confused! I mean, if he likes me, he's not going to want other people there, intruding on us. Right?" She added, as if in afterthought.

        Things had changed since I was a teenager. When we courted a woman, we let her know then and there that we were interested. None of this "I'll text you when I get the chance" crap. If you had time to be making dates, then you had free time all the time!

        Everything was so backwards these days. People had casual sex and never expected anything to come out of it. I really didn't understand the whole thing.

        I intertwined my index finger with hers, putting on my best grin.

        "If he wants to date you, he needs to be one hundred percent sure. He'll make his intentions clear. Maybe even before your date, he'll call and plans will change, to suit what you want."

        She nodded, then did so again with slightly more resolution.

        "You're right. It's only Tuesday, we have three more days until he changes his mind. Thanks, dad, I appreciate this." Planting a kiss on my cheek, she bounced up to her feet, sliding into the hallway.

        My brows furrowed at her choice of words. Why did I notice that?

        "'We'?"

        She slung her backpack over her and it made the ivory sweater fall from her shoulders. I was immediately drawn to the spot on her skin that held scars, inflicted from when she was just a child.

        I remember picking her up from the mess of the shed, shushing to her that everything was going to be okay and we were getting her to the hospital soon as possible. My wife had drove the car, barely speaking until we were in A&E, where we had to finally admit to staff that we were useless parents and left her unattended, free to walk in to the tool shed and play with the nail gun.

        I hated looking at those scars, but luckily enough for Emily, she didn't recall that day at all. She was four, after all. Obviously, I'm glad she doesn't remember suffering through the pain of the nails and thinking what failures we were as parents.

        Knowing I'd been staring, she covered them up again, eyes going haywire.

        "Um, yeah. Me and Anya."

        I tried to control my falling jaw, but going by the way Emily scrunched up her face, she was perplexed by my reaction.

        "God, save her the talk, please, you can't play daddy to everyone." She smiled softly again. "Ryan invited her, which makes me more nervous – but, in all seriousness... thanks."

        Galloping up the stairs, she didn't allow me any more time to squeeze another word in.

        Suddenly, I was all alone, in a big mansion, with nothing to occupy me except for four furry creatures, my friend, Jack Daniels, and the most destructive thoughts I've ever had.

        So, in the whirlwind of emotions and all else, I grabbed my mobile out my back pocket and quickly found Anya's contact. She was at the top of my list, due to alphabetical and emergency reasons.

        Calling her would be stupid, so instead I began to type. I didn't even read over it, in fear I would end up deleting the whole thing altogether.

        I think it's time we spoke.

        And I hit send. All I could do now was wait.