SKYLAR
“I’ll have to think about it.”
My heart leapt into my throat. I knew that tone. Daddy would let me go, but not until we’d had an eight-hour lecture on the subject. I tried to hide the huge grin that threatened to spread. My dad was playing tough guy, and I was enjoying seeing Cody squirm.
“Skylar tells me that you’re the only one at school who has recognized her. Why do you think that is?”
I kicked my father’s foot and gave him the don’t-go-there stare. He ignored me. My father had expressed his concern about Cody’s intentions, despite my reassurances.
Cody swallowed his food and took a drink, his Adam’s apple moving slowly as he processed the question. “I don’t know, sir. I thought she looked familiar but didn’t put two and two together until I saw she used your wife’s maiden name. Most kids our age don’t get past downloading a song to iTunes, so they wouldn’t make the connection. But I love the history and the people behind a song as much as the music.”
My father pursed his lips and I smirked. Score one for Cody.
“And next year? What are your plans?”
Now my father was just being cliché.
“I’m looking at a few wrestling programs. I’d like to stay close to this area, but I’m open to seeing what happens.” Cody sent me a smile that made my heart flutter.
“Really? That’s good. Skylar’s got big plans too. She just applied to fashion school in Paris. ESMOD has a great program and she’s a shoo-in.”
My dad slid his foot away before I could kick it again, but the damage was done.
Cody set his fork down and focused all his attention my way. “You’re moving to Paris?” His voice didn’t sound right. It was too grainy, too high-pitched.
I opened my mouth to say something, to justify my actions in some way. It wasn’t a serious application. My father made me send in my portfolio. Insisted that I shouldn’t let his illness stop my dreams.
When I didn’t deny it, Cody slowly turned back to my dad. “That’s um…great.”
My father continued his battery of questions for another twenty minutes. No subject was left untouched—school, home life, faith. Cody answered every one, but his posture had shifted and his smile was no longer natural.
When my dad finally decided his interrogation was finished, he stood to clear the table. Cody gathered his plate and silverware and offered to help. I noticed he had eaten very little since my dad dropped the ESMOD bomb.
“It’s a school night,” my dad reminded him. “Best you get on home.”
“Oh, okay. Yes, sir.” Cody’s voice cracked and his ears reddened.
My dad stood between the kitchen and our exit, shoulders square, legs spread, arms crossed. His attempt at intimidation made me want to burst into laughter. I couldn’t believe it was working on Cody, but the constant hands in and out of his pockets spoke volumes.
“Cody. It was good talking to you.” My father’s hand shot out, clasping Cody’s again. “You understand that Skylar is my life. You hurt her and I will personally end yours.”
“Dad!”
Cody’s eyes practically overtook his face as my father squeezed his hand harder. They were close to the same height, my dad having only an inch on Cody, but in that moment, my dad resembled the gun-toting robot from The Terminator.
“I understand, sir. Skylar is an amazing girl, and I would feel exactly the same way if I were her father.”
That seemed to appease my dad and made me want to smother Cody with kisses. With his hand free, Cody nodded toward the foyer. I nudged my dad, getting him to let us pass and then walked Cody to the door.
“When were you going to tell me about Paris?” he whispered, barely touching me.
“I wasn’t. I can’t see past next week let alone next year.”
“Is that how you feel about me, too?”
“What? No. Of course not.” I reached out, put my hand on his arm. The muscles were tense, the bump of a vein hard against my fingertips. I’d never seen Cody so upset. He was generally the epitome of calm and controlled.
“You sure?”
“Yes,” I lengthened the word, wanting to say more, but not in range of my dad’s prying ears.
The tension fell from Cody’s shoulders. “Okay. Let me know what your dad says about Greensboro.” With a platonic squeeze to my arm, he disappeared behind the door.
I spun around to glare at my father. “Was that necessary?”
He walked toward me, concern etched in the lines that spread from his eyes. “Yes. And after seeing the way you two look at each other, this next conversation is necessary too.” He pointed to the formal couch in the great room, the one with claw legs and hard cushions that he knew I hated. “Sit.”
I rolled my eyes but did as he commanded. He took a seat on the coffee table in front of me, studying my face with disappointment. “How serious is this?”
My finger moved to my mouth, my teeth gnawing my recently polished nail. “What do you mean?”
“I mean he practically spit out his food when I said Paris. This kid thinks you two have a future together.”
When he eyed my half-chewed nail, I quickly dropped my hand. “Maybe we do. I like him. A lot.”
He took a deep breath and clasped his hands. “Okaaay.” He said the word as if he was already thinking about his next statement. “In that case, it’s time we have the sex talk.”
The blood drained from my face.
“I know your tutor discussed the mechanics with you, so we won’t do that, but I doubt you understood hormones or desires at that point.”
I wanted to die. I wanted to curl into a ball and hide under the table my father sat on.
“Teenage boys think about sex a lot.”
“Daddy, please stop.” My mortification was met with equal discomfort.
“Do you think this is easy for me, Skylar? You don’t think I wish your mother was here to have this chat? But she isn’t, so I’m what you’ve got.”
I put my head in my hands, shaking it back and forth in hopes of removing the sound of my father’s words as he continued to discuss a boy’s hormonal mind.
“The point is, Skylar, if a boy thinks he can get sex, he will more than likely try to. Especially if he likes a girl as much as Cody obviously likes you. So, it’s important you let him know right away that you have boundaries and what they are. A good guy will respect them, and a guy who doesn’t needs to be dropped.”
“Okay, I got it. Can I go now?”
He went on as if I never spoke. “I know your generation takes sex lightly, thinks the idea of waiting for marriage is archaic. God doesn’t give commands to torture us. He gives them to protect us.”
My father removed my hands from my face, replacing them with his, so he could look into my eyes.
“This is important. I saw the way you touched, the familiarity that’s there. As your closeness grows, you will continue to move forward physically. You need to understand that when sex enters a relationship, the relationship changes, and you can’t take it back.”
Despite my absolute loathing of the conversation, I took pity on father. “I understand. And I do plan to wait ’til I’m married.”
He sighed with relief, looking as if he aged ten years during that conversation. “Good.” One hand fell away. The other stroked my cheek. “You’ve grown into a smart and beautiful woman. You’re almost eighteen, and the truth is, if you wanted to take the next step, there is little I can do or say to stop you. But I do hope you wait.”
“I will. Now can we please stop talking about this?”
He chuckled. “Okay.”
I stood, ready to leave the room.
“Skylar?”
I froze, wincing at what else my father could possibly say to me.
“If you want to go this weekend, you can. Just, please, promise me you won’t put yourself in a situation where you’re alone with no accountability. Hormones tend to trump good intentions.”
I kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you! And I promise. No compromising situations.”
I practically danced up the stairs while I texted.
Me: Get ready to kick some butt. I’m going to Greensboro!