The Freshman (College Years 1)

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I’m starting to get offended.

“Look at you, Hayden. I know plenty of men who have sons around your age. They’ll take one look at you and ask me how we can hook you up with junior,” he says.

“That’s so gross.” I wrinkle my nose. “I’m not an animal you can barter with for a deal.”

“You’d be surprised how many mergers are made through marriage, still to this day.” He raises a brow. “I’ve already got my sights set on someone for Palmer.”

Yikes. That sounds awful. “Does Palmer know this?”

“She’s aware.”

That’s all he says. She’s aware.

Aware that our father has set her up with someone he hopes she’ll eventually marry? I wonder if he paid off the guy’s dad? So freaking disgusting.

“I’m not going,” I say firmly. “I’ll head back to Fresno tonight.”

I turn on my heel, ready to make my escape from his suddenly stifling office when I hear him speak.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you. I meant what I said about cutting you off.”

His voice is sharp. A tone I haven’t heard him use on me in a long time. Not since I was sixteen and snuck out of the house to go over to a boy’s house for a party, where I got drunk. Oh, my dad was so pissed at me. I was grounded for weeks.

Totally worth it, though. I made out with Chad Radwell that night. He was eighteen and on the varsity baseball team.

I glance over my shoulder, hating how neutral my father’s expression is. Innocent, despite the implied threat in his voice. I’m sure my emotions are written all over my face, because his softens, and his tone changes, turning almost cajoling.

“Come on, Hay. Do this for your dad. I’m not asking you to accept anyone’s engagement offer tonight. Just—see if any of these boys you meet could have…potential.”

“I don’t live here.”

“It doesn’t matter. We live in a modern world. You could have Zoom dates,” he suggests, a chuckle escaping him. “You could come home for the weekend. Lots of sons don’t live here either. They’re scattered all over the country, attending college. Working.”

“I’m not interested in an old fart,” I warn him, and now he flat out laughs.

“Of course you’re not. I wouldn’t pair you up with anyone older than…thirty.”

“Oh. So someone around Lauri’s age then.” That was probably a shitty thing to say, but come on.

It’s the truth.

“Yes, exactly.” His expression is now warm and inviting, and I feel myself start to soften as well. He does this sort of thing sometimes. Emotional blackmail. Bargaining chips to get what he wants.

It’s frustrating.

“I don’t have anything to wear,” I say, which is the truth. I haven’t been to the country club in a long time. It’s something I avoid as much as possible.

“Go shopping. Take Palmer,” he suggests, checking his Rolex. “You still have time. We won’t leave for the club until six-thirty. Seven at the latest.”

I’m not about to turn down a shopping trip. He knows me far too well. “You don’t mind?”

He rises to his feet and stops directly in front of me, reaching out to gently clasp my upper arms and stare into my eyes. Sincere, warm Dad is replacing mean, cold Dad of a few minutes ago. “Of course, I don’t mind. Get whatever you want. Dress. Shoes. New makeup. Jewelry. Whatever.”

My mind races at the possibilities. I like to think I want to change the world as a teacher, one six-year-old at a time, but I also know the truth: sometimes, I’m a materialistic bitch who likes shopping at Chanel and Gucci.

I can’t help it.

“I’ll go get Palmer then,” I say. He pulls me into a brief hug, and just before I break away, I rise up on my tiptoes and drop a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you, Daddy.”