Page 24 of Love Starves

"That's okay. Thank you," I tell him, restarting my climb up, lost in thought. What's the point in this? It's true that they'll check in on any given random day when they remember they've left something like a child behind, but normally, there's a big show about it. We know weeks in advance and have that time to prepare. Makes me wonder if I should be worried.

A text notification comes through as soon as I step foot into my room.

Got any plans for the night?

Ryan. Six words and I know that I don't want to do this stupid parent-dinner thing alone.

Depends. What would you say to a sos dinner with a couple snobs who will talk about themselves all night and won't ever ask you about yourself aka my parents?

The bubbles dance across the screen as he types his response. Planting my ass in the chair in front of my vanity, my leg starts to bounce in anxiety. Too much, too soon. I shouldn't be throwing my parents into this floating pool of uncertainty where the men in my life are concerned. It spells a recipe for disaster of the most epic proportions. But it's too late to take my offer back now.

You had me at sos. I'll be your knight in college kid dregs armor. What time? Should I consider renting a tux for this black-tie affair?

My laugh is loud in the quiet of the room. The Clemontes are going to have a meltdown, knowing I invited a guest and an even bigger one when they meet him. Being as fucked in the head as I am, I can't wait. Quickly typing back a reply to Ryan, I drop my phone on the vanity so that I can go jump in the shower. Dinner is a high-show fanfare in this house, and we've all got our own parts to play.

Later, I'm in the den pouring myself a drink when the front door opens and in swoops a flourish of ruffles and expensive Prada perfume. Oh, mother. Then, of course, my father right on her heels in his hard-pressed suited glory.

I can already taste the disappointment in the air as she gives me a once over with a raised eyebrow. A custom designed dress that costs more than my Mercedes still wouldn't have been enough for her. Small facts that I learned long ago, so I don't take her disdain personally.

The smell of her perfume nearly makes me gag as she swoops into air-kiss both of my cheeks. "Blythe, my dear, you could’ve at least put on something a little more formal. Not every day that your parents are home for dinner."

Ignoring the jab, I press my lips together into some semblance of a smile before replying, "Hello, mother. Great to see you." I'd ask how it was wherever she was to make polite conversation if I'd have actually known where they've been this time, or if I cared.

Father heads straight for the bar to pour himself a drink and toasts me as a way of greeting before he tosses it back and pours another.

Stewart, being the absolute lifesaver he is, chooses this moment to make an appearance and announce, "Dinner will be served shortly."

"Well," mother says with a brush of a hand across her hair, "I changed on the plane, but I think I'll go freshen up a bit."

It's only by a lifetime of training that I hold back my snort of incredulity. Freshen up more than likely amounts to going to do a line of coke in her bathroom out of sight of judgement. Not like I'm one to talk, but I'd say Father would if he could get his head out of the bottom of the liquor bottle long enough. Startling both of us out of our own thoughts, the doorbell chimes.

Father's head whips toward me, "Expecting someone?"

My heels clack on the floor as I try to beat Stewart to my guest for the evening. Not only do I want to escape the questioning glare of my father, but the butterflies are back thinking about Ryan waiting on the other side of the door. Taking a deep breath, I swing it open. It's a damn good thing I sucked that air in beforehand, because what waits on the stoop is breathtaking. Ryan is hot and conveys confidence on a level that most college frat boys strive to achieve their entire lives. Put the man in a suit and he'll break necks from how quickly people stop to look. His hair is styled to the side and pushed back. Those honey eyes smile with his lips as he allows my perusal of his person. The navy-colored suit fits snug around his arms and thighs in a modern style, letting me know that he didn't just borrow it from someone. I can only hope he didn't go out of his way and buy the damn thing in the past few hours because I'll feel like a total ass for making him spend money on what's going to amount to a disastrous date.

So caught up in checking him out, I don't even notice the bouquet of flowers until he pushes them into the space between us. "I was going to bring a bottle of wine or something a little nicer, but once you gave me the address I kind of figured you had a cellar, or something filled with better than what I could find in the corner store."

"They're great," I tell him with a smile while ushering him inside. There's a part of me that wants to warn him that he's walking into the lion's den, but the other part wants to watch in sick fascination how he handles himself with the Clemontes. Who knows, maybe if he can survive the night with no casualties then he might just be a keeper after all.

Of course, it's so much worse than I could've imagined, because for once, they act like they care about someone other than themselves, bombarding Ryan with question after question.

"So, you two met at school?" Father asks, directing it at Ryan. "What are you studying there?"

"I'm trying to get my bachelor's in engineering," he replies easily, setting his fork down to give an answer with undivided attention.

Father nods, dropping his gaze back to his plate and another bite of food he's shoveling in. An odd sensation stirs in my gut. For all his faults, he's never been one to rush through dinner like he's got somewhere better to be, which is exactly what appears to be happening here.

My mother ignores him as per usual and skips over the opening father's made for conversation about school. "Wilson? Is that from the Orange Lake Wilsons? Are you related?"

Ryan's eyes skip to mine, and I swear I can see the question of whether he's supposed to know these people written there. Without giving me a chance to cut in, he answers, "No, ma'am. All my family is from northern Michigan."

"I see," she says in that condescending tone of hers. One I'll no doubt hear later when she decides to jump my ass about dating someone who has no title to their name, making them no better than the help. It makes me hate her just a little more. What's worse is that there was a chance I could've turned out just like her. As jaded and so money-hungry that it doesn't matter if the two people in the world that's supposed to love me the most can't stand to be in the same room with me long enough for something simple as dinner. To watch love starve down to its barest of bones until there's nothing left. It's sad to realize this is the life she lives, and so caught up in herself and own desires that she doesn't even care.

With Father ready to bolt as soon as he's allowed and Mother now turning up her nose toward Ryan, the table is quiet through dessert. Surprise, surprise the moment it's finished, Father stands to excuse himself, but shockingly enough invites Ryan to his office for a cigar.

"Sure," he accepts, laying his napkin on the table with a side glance and grimace at me.

Hiding my hand underneath the table, I shoot him a quick thumbs up that flips his frown over. Once they leave the room, I sit back, resting against the chair not giving a damn if I'm slouching as I prepare for whatever ‘holier than thou’ speech my mother has planned.

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