Payback's A Bitch (Awkward Love 6)

I know Mom and Dad were over a long time before she died, but in my irrational mind, he moved on from her death way too fast. But that’s not really what gets to me. It’s the significance of the date he's chosen to marry Paula on, and the fact that he has no fucking idea what it means. That’s what I’m struggling to accept.

I scoop up my phone when it beeps, laughing at Darcy’s reply.

Darcy: Fuck. That’s just mean. My options weren’t painful, at least.

Me: That’s arguable. I’d find it very painful drinking a glass of urine.

Darcy: There’s actually proven health benefits to drinking your own urine. People have been doing it for centuries.

Me: Tell you what. You start doing it, then come talk to me about how those benefits are working for you. Also…let me know if you do start this practice so I can avoid kissing you.

Darcy: Are you one of those guys who refuses to kiss a girl after she swallows your load?

Me: No, actually. I love nothing more than tasting myself on a woman’s tongue.

Darcy: Really?

Me: No. of course I don’t. There’s a reason I chose the urine.

Dad’s name flashes on my screen. He’s not the person I want to be thinking about while discussing the pros and cons of tasting your own cum. I shudder, and then I press ignore. I do the same thing the next two times he tries to ring, because he obviously can’t take a hint.

And then my phone is gone.

I stare at my empty hands then look across at Mack, who’s holding it. I reach over and snatch it back. I’m shocked, because I didn't even notice he’d come out of the water, let alone that he’d sat next to me.

“Hey,” I protest, swatting Mack’s hand away when he attempts to grab it again. I nudge him in the side. “Get your filthy paws off my shit.”

“Who are you texting?” he asks, craning his neck to see. “Is it a girl? Are you seeing someone? Ohhh, Cam’s in love,” he croons, swaying back and forth. “So, when’s the wedding?” he asks, grinning. “Have you had sex yet?” he adds, thrusting his hips into the air. “Oooh, Cammy, yes, yes, yes!”

“Shut up and leave me alone,” I growl at him. He’s a dick sometimes, but I can’t stay mad at him. “You’re an annoying little shit sometimes, you know that?” I say affectionately, tossing a handful of sand at him.

He nods, looking proud of himself.

“You've got no idea how much it means to me just to hear you say that.”After we leave the beach, we head back home, grabbing some lunch on the way. When I walk inside to find Dad standing there, pacing the living room, I panic. Maybe ignoring his phone calls wasn't my smartest idea, but it’s too late now.

“For fuck’s sake, Cameron. Where the hell have you been?” he snaps.

I frown at him because he typically doesn’t use such a hard tone. Or swear. Ever.

“Sorry, we just went out to catch some waves—”

“And what about school?” he demands. He glares at Mack. “Was this your idea?”

“Hey, don't blame him,” I say. “It was my idea. I felt bad about not spending time with him—”

“So, you thought you take him out of school? Do you even realize he is on his final warning? The principal called me. You’ve got no idea how lucky he is that he’s not expelled because of your stupidity.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” I say, frowning at him. “I just want to talk with him and make sure he was going okay.”

“Why wouldn’t he be okay? "Of course he’s okay,” Dad snaps.

I shake my head and laugh. “Yeah, sure he is.”

Dad frowns at me. “What are you talking about, Cameron? Why wouldn’t he be okay?”

I sigh. “Just forget about it.”

“I think I’ll go to my room,” Mack mumbles. He creeps out of the room, leaving the two of us alone.

“I’m sorry,” I say quietly. “Making him skip school was a stupid thing to do and I wasn’t thinking. It won’t happen again.”

“I’ll take him back now.” He looks at me and sighs. “I’m glad you’re making an effort with him, Cameron, I’m just disappointed in you. You don’t think sometimes. And when I got that call from his school, I panicked…”

I nod stiffly and swallow, because the one thing I hate being told more than anything else is that I’m a disappointment. No other word makes me feel like such a failure as that word does. I might act like I don’t care, but the truth is I do. I care a lot. I stare back at Dad, feeling tense and on edge.

“I’m sorry,” I repeat, a hardness to my voice that wasn’t there before. “Next time I’ll think more like you.”

He frowns at me, probably trying to work out if that’s an insult or a compliment. Then he turns around and glances up the stairs.