I needed my dad.
My dad’s scent lingers on the couch, cedarwood and spice. My mom makes sure to spray his cologne on this couch for moments like these. When I need the reminder that, even though he’s gone, he is still with me. I bury my face into a pillow and inhale deeply, begging my tears to stay where they belong.
I will not cry over Dawson Sinclair.
I don’t even know why I am feeling all these emotions. Why am I embarrassed? He doesn’t matter, and while, yes, he caused me to act like an unhinged idiot in front of his parents, I am still a strong, confident woman with goals and aspirations. I will conquer! Did my meeting with the Sinclairs go well? In my opinion, no. I think they felt bad for me, pitied the fact that their son flustered me. They were too agreeable, too damn kind, and, ugh, I hate when people feel bad for me.
It’s always been like that. When I was young, my learning disabilities made everyone treat me like I was too dumb to succeed. No one ever celebrated what I overcame, only pointed out what I couldn’t do. Now, that doesn’t apply to my parents ortía. Those three have loved me no matter what and have always praised my accomplishments as if I were winning the Stanley Cup.
But they have to. I’m theirs.
To them, I’m perfect.
To everyone else, I’m not.
I have always been a chunky girl, and while my chunk has turned to curves, I have been told many times that ifonlyI were skinny. I have such a pretty face, too bad I’m too big. Too tall. Too…fucking much. It’s so frustrating and annoying, to say the least. I have gone through life with people continually feeling sorry for me, when I’m not the problem.
They are.
But in this case, Dawson is the fucking problem!
He’s a showboating, full-of-himself, too-damn-hot player, with a one-track mind.
Hockey, football, and pussy.
In no particular order.
Dawson’s antics, his heated looks, and arrogant thoughts about my theory made me look like a fool. I reacted just how he wanted. I played right into his hands. He wanted a reaction from me, and he got it. I just don’t understand why. What is he gaining? He doesn’t know me, and never once has he given me a second glance. What was so different about today?
Pathetically, I wanted him to remember me.
I wanted that night to be as important to him as it was to me.
Not the whole his getting head or even his asking to eat me out, it was him defending me.
I felt seen, I felt heard, and even in the middle of my grief when I’ve thought of that night, I smiled because of the way he’d looked at me, defended me, and told me he’d find me.
Not that he did, but it still felt nice that drunk Dawson wanted to find me.
I let out a tortured scream that I feel from the tip of my toes to the top of my head. My body shakes with anger as I scream into the pillow before inhaling my dad’s scent. If he were here, I know what he’d say.
Ro, haters are like glitter—annoying, hard to get rid of, but proof that you sparkle.
I squeeze my eyes shut, the traitorous tears falling into the pillow. The only reason I’m not mad at myself for letting them fall is the fact that I know I’m not crying because of Dawson or even that I miss my dad and his wise words. It’s from the frustration over how I acted.
Since taking overThe Rowe Report, I promised I would always maintain my dad’s professionalism and make him proud. Dawson brought out a side of me that I don’t let anyone see. People talk about my dad all the time, good and bad, but the fact that Dawson was so unrelenting about my dad’s theory… Damn it, it made me violent.
How could I allow him to have so much control over my emotions?
He is nothing to me. Even when he called me hot before, I knew it was because he was drunk. When he asked me out today, I knew it was because he has never been told no. I’m the one he can’t land, and that’s killing him. I just don’t understand the buzzing I felt when I was under his gaze. When he let those dimples loose, I felt my stomach clench. Of course I’m attracted to him. He’s very appealing to the eye, but I know his type. I know men like that. They are all gorgeous and pretty to look at, and the moment you don’t give them what they want, they dropyou. Or they stay and beat you down. Calling out every single one of your insecurities so that you’ll stay with them and not look for better.
I am not dumb, and I may be wrong for putting Dawson in that category, but come on, his track record speaks for itself. Just look at the comments on all his posts or even in his thirst traps. No one has ever dated Dawson Sinclair.
Never.
Which is why I laughed so hard when he asked me out.
It kept me from crying from how badly I wanted it to be real. To fall back into my old naïve ways and give in to a man like Dawson. Just for fun, just to see what happened, but I’ve been burned so many times. I have seen firsthand how he throws away women. Yes, that was six years ago, and I’m sure he has somewhat matured, but I can’t put myself out there for him to shit on.
