Page 97 of So This Is War
I can’t deny that stings. That’s not unconditional love. In fact, I doubt I’ve ever had that.
Sandie’s expression softens. “He loves you, Wylie. You know this.”
My eyes well up with tears as I stare at the TV, the camera zooming in on my father yelling at the players to change lines. “I just wish it wasn’t a conditional love.”
Sandie left,and with another Agitators win under their belt, I retreated back to my bedroom after making sure to leave no trace of us hanging out in Levi’s apartment. While in bed, I started looking through different fonts on Creative Market. Dale was right. There’s a vision each artist has when they create their font, and it’s interesting to see what kind of vision they had in mind. Some fonts I would have assumed could be more on the thriller side, but they pair them in a soft background with natural tones, which totally works. Strangely.
It has my brain thinking differently.
Today felt mindless as I ran through task after task. Trying to find Levi a new suit, buying him more underwear, picking out some macaroons from a certain shop that he apparently loves. Makes me wonder, are the macaroons for him or is he going to give them to my father later?
And with every task that I checked off the list, I grew more and more frustrated, especially after Sandie left. I spent a solid hour sorting out pretzels for his snacks because he only wanted whole pretzels, no broken pieces. It was annoying and stupid and just made me realize how infuriating the entire situation is.
It’s not like I told my dad that it’s my life’s calling to be a stripper, and I’m giving up everything for it. I want to work in graphic design, a booming profession in today’s online marketing. Yet he wants me to be some boring executive who doesn’t enjoy life because it’s safe.
Well, nothing is safe.
Not even those jobs. At least with this, I can hopefully determine my own destiny. As long as my designs don’t suck and people love my perspective and aesthetic.
Since I left my bedroom door open, I hear the moment Levi gets home. It’s later than before, and I’m not sure if it’s because he is avoiding me or if he put in a quick leg workout after the game—some of the guys do that. Either way, I’m surprised how long it took him to get home.
But instead of going to see him right at the moment, I have another plan.
Is it diabolical?
Maybe.
But like Sandie said, I can’t let up. I have to keep pushing forward.
It felt like talking to Levi from a year ago during the drive into the arena today, and I got lost in it. In him. And a part of me longed for that moment to carry on, for him to be that guy, not my dad’s puppet.
I need to remember that I’m trying to prove a point to two men, and one of them just got home.
I set my iPad down and move to the floor-length mirror. I’m wearing one of my lingerie sets, but it’s more . . . casual. It’s a silky black camisole top with thin straps and lace around the low neckline. The matching shorts—if you want to call them that—have slits that rise to my hips and of course, naturally, I’m not wearing a bra or underwear. I know he told me to, but it’s clear as day that I’m ready for bed. Makeup is off, hair is up in a messy bun, and I’m wearing my fuzzy slippers as well.
The plan is to walk into his bedroom right before he goes to bed, in this outfit, and ask him a few packing questions. Hopefully the outfit will get him worked up.
We shall see.
I brush my teeth, wanting to give the full effect of bed readiness and, for the hell of it, I put on my blue light glasses that I’ll wear when I have to stare at my screen for a long period.
Yup, this looks perfect.
Satisfied, I move down my dark hallway toward the kitchen, pausing to listen. I don’t hear him moving around in the bathroom, so he must be in bed.
Time to strike.
Carefully, I tiptoe down the hallway to his bedroom, not wanting to make a sound but wanting to be a full surprise. And as I inch closer, I start to hear something coming from the other side of his door.
A woman’s voice.
Oh God.
I still.
A sweat breaks out over my skin.
And my heart hammers because . . .he brought someone home with him.
