Keeping the Distance (I Heart Iloilo Book 1) Read online

  Mr. Ortiz’s words hurt worse, because they were true. Every poisonous syllable.

  “Whether I hurt her or not, has it ever occurred to you that it’s Melissa’s choice to make?” A bitter laugh burst out of Lance’s mouth and exploded between them like dynamite. He scratched the back of his head, making sure that he looked every bit the clueless playboy. “You know what, Mr. Ortiz? You’re wasting your time. There’s no need to have this conversation. I did offer your daughter my heart on a silver platter, but she sliced it nice and thin before giving it back to me.”

  Lance would’ve found the disbelief written all over the principal’s features funny if he wasn’t so goddamn furious. He unclenched his fingers from the seat of his chair and stood up. “Are we done?”

  Mr. Ortiz merely continued to gape at him with wide eyes.

  He decided not to wait for an answer and walked over to the door. With one hand on the doorknob, he stopped and whirled around.

  He wasn’t done with this conversation. Not even close. For what he supposed was the last time, Lance looked Mr. Ortiz in the eye, not as another student, but as the boy who was hopelessly in love with the man’s daughter.

  All the anger drained out of him in one fell swoop. Something burned behind his eyes.

  “Everything you said about Melissa? About her being beautiful, intelligent, and kind?” Lance said, his voice low. “Please say those things to her more often. She needs to hear them from you. You have no idea how important your opinion is to her.”

  With that said, Lance gripped the doorknob and pulled the door open, wondering if maybe it wasn’t too late to transfer to another school.

  ***

  Cola Slurpee in hand, Melissa walked to her usual table at 7-Eleven, the one by the glass walls so she could people watch as much as she wanted. The cup suddenly felt too small in her hands, and she tamped down the urge to hurl it against the wall, watch the Cola goodness splatter and slide down the glass.

  Throughout her seventeen years of existence on the planet, Melissa had felt a variety of emotions where her father was concerned. Annoyance. Anxiety. Regret. Pure, unadulterated hero worship. But it was the first time she hated him, felt the rage churning inside her like an underwater volcano about to explode.

  She sat down at the table and stared at her Slurpee, watched the condensation around the cup slide down to the table surface. Her father had a faculty meeting and wouldn't be home in a few hours, while her mother had left her a note saying she needed to pick up some weekend essentials at the grocery story. So, Melissa had found herself at 7-Eleven, because staying in their house while this ugly anger twisted inside her was unbearable.

  The logical part of Melissa said her father meant well when he asked Lance to step inside his office, that he was only protecting her, but one thought kept running through her mind in an infinite loop: how dare he.

  How dare he use his authority as the principal to interfere in her life as a father. How dare he summon the boy who scooped oysters out of their shells for her and make him feel small the way he so often did to her.

  "The Slurpee didn't do anything wrong, you know." Hunter appeared by her side and took the seat in front of her.

  It was only then that she noticed how tight her grip had become around the Slurpee cup, the condensation pooling between her fingers.

  "I know." Melissa tried for a smile.

  Hunter was the personification of Rocker Boy Cool in a black T-shirt with the twisted smiley Nirvana insignia on it, his hair pointing in a thousand different directions. She almost couldn't believe she found it difficult to form syllables around him only a few months ago. Now, here she was, ready to spill her guts out to him about another boy.

  "Are you okay, Mel?" Hunter cracked his knuckles. "Tell me if there's a pretty boy I need to beat up."

  She shook her head and twirled the Slurpee cup around. "No, the only person who deserves a punch in the eye socket is me."

  "You're saying that, because you know I won't punch you." Hunter smiled and leaned forward on the table. "Come on, tell me what's wrong."

  "Remember when you saw me by the vacant lot?" she said, her fingers continuing to twist the Slurpee cup round and round.

  Hunter raised his eyebrows sardonically, but his tone was kind when he spoke. "With the pretty boy basketball player? How could I forget?"

  "We've been sort of going out, but I wanted to keep the whole thing a secret because of, you know, my father," Melissa said, her voice low and more than a little ashamed. "We went to a party together this weekend, and he asked me to finally tell Papa about us. But I couldn't. I was too scared, and I guess things are over now."

  She expected judgment from Hunter, but he only looked curious. "What’s wrong with your father finding out about him?”

  And that was a question she couldn't even begin to try answering. Melissa sighed. "My father has this idea of me as the perfect daughter, and... Lance doesn't really fit with that idea. Don't get me wrong. He's wonderful once you get to know him, but he presents this stupid, couldn't-care-less player front at school. Especially in front of my father."

  "The way I see things, the situation's pretty simple." Hunter reached forward and pulled the Slurpee away from her, so she'd look him in the eye. "You say Lance is this amazing guy, right?"

  Melissa nodded.

  "Okay, then," Hunter said, clapping his hands together. "So, is he amazing enough for you to ruin this perfect daughter image your father has of you?"

  She stared at Hunter, her jaw dropping open, because he was absolutely, positively right.

  The situation was that simple. She was the one who made things complicated with her insecurities about who her father wanted her to be and who she really was.

  Lance was worth it.

  He was worth everything.

  And she had to let her father know before she lost Lance for good.

  The table wobbled on its legs as Melissa pulled herself up. “Thanks, Hunter. I… I have to go.”

  “That’s what I thought,” Hunter said with a smile, his dimple making a dent in his left cheek.

  “Bye.”

  “Let me know how it turns out, okay?” Hunter grabbed the Slurpee she’d barely even touched and took a sip. He pointed at his temple. “This whole thing seems like a good idea for a song.”

  “I bet.”

  Melissa waved her goodbye as she ran out of 7-Eleven and onto the sidewalk.

  Breath caught in her throat, she ran home, her flip-flops slapping against the pavement with every step. The late afternoon sun began to set and made telling her father more urgent than ever, like the nightfall became a symbolic deadline. Cars sped past her. She couldn’t help stamping one foot in impatience when the light took a little too long to turn red so she could cross the street and get home.

  The words were begging to burst out of her, about Lance and how much she cared about him and how she wasn’t scared.

  Not anymore.

  She was going to fight for him now, tooth and nail and with every other body part in between.

  ***

  Her father’s car was already parked in the garage when she came to a halt in front of their house. She walked through the doorway and found him slipping on a pair of fuzzy house slippers.

  He smiled when he saw her. “There you are, Mel. I bought takeout from your favorite Chinese place for dinner.”

  Melissa’s heart broke even more. She hated her father the second Lance walked out of his office looking like a puppy who’d been kicked in the stomach, but her overwhelming love for him began to war with the rage inside her. He stood in their living room, looking older than she’d ever seen him.

  In the dumb slippers she’d gotten him as a present before the beginning of the school year. Just because.

  How could she hate her father and love him so much at the same time?

  At the sight of the takeout from their go-to restaurant on the kitchen table, tears began to pool in the corners of her eyes. She could sme
ll the orange chicken wafting out of the cardboard containers. Her favorite.

  She loved her father with her whole heart, and at one point, she would’ve done anything to be the daughter he wanted, the daughter he deserved. But she had had enough of his expectations, of the crippling power a disappointed look from him had over her.

  Melissa took two wobbly steps until she stood right in front of him. She gulped. “Why did you ask Lance to come to your office?”

  Guilt flashed across his face, but it faded in an instant. He tried to shrug her off. “I hardly think discussing my students’ private affairs with you is appropriate.”

  “Really? Then, are you saying you called Lance over to your office as the principal, not as my father?” Melissa brushed away the tears flowing down her cheeks with the back of her hand, not sure if they were angry tears or sad ones. The words hung heavily in the air between them, ready to explode at any moment.

  “I will not be spoken to like this in my house,” he said, the vein on his temple threatening to burst.

  “Are you my father right now or my school’s principal? You have to decide. You can’t be both at the same time. All the time.” Melissa’s voice sounded strong, even though every fiber of her being was trembling.

  “Are you acting like this because of that boy?” his response thundered out of him.

  She attempted to look him in the eye, even if her vision was getting blurrier by the second. “What if I am? What are you going to do?”

  “I spoke to him as your father and specifically asked him to stay away from you. Is that what you want to hear, Mel?” Her father pushed his glasses up his nose, staring down at her. Regret shone through his eyes, but he wasn’t going to admit he was wrong any time soon. “I abused my authority at that school to warn him off you, and I’m not proud of it. But it was something I had to do.”

  “Why?” The question came out low and soft, but the answer to it was going to decide where they were going to go from here, whether she and her father could pick up the pieces from the wreckage their relationship had become.

  “Because you’re my daughter. He isn’t—”

  “Don’t. Please stop.” Melissa raised her hands to stop him. She didn’t want to sound like every teenage girl who’d been forbidden to see a boy in the history of the world, but her father really didn’t know Lance, had no idea what kind of person he was now and was capable of becoming. She shook her head and let out a little laugh as tears ran down her face. “Do you know that Lance and I were going out? I asked him to keep the whole thing a secret, because I was afraid you’d look at me the way you’re doing right now. Like you don’t even know who I am.”

  “Mel—”

  “No,” Melissa cut him off. “I’ve listened to you my whole life. It’s time for you to listen to me now.” When he stayed silent, she continued, “We went to places where I knew no one would see us, but you know what, Pa? Deep down, I wanted you to catch us, because I wanted to stop being scared. But you didn’t catch us and I didn’t have the guts to tell you. Now, it’s too late.”

  She broke down for real. The stream of tears turned into a tsunami. Her father crossed the distance between them, and his arms encircled her. She buried her face in his chest, soaking his shirt with her tears. He smelled like oranges and cinnamon, like her whole childhood bottled up.

  “I’m sorry, Mel,” he whispered into her hair. “I wanted the best for you, but it seems I’ve been going about it all wrong.”

  Melissa continued to cry into her father’s chest, but for the first time in as long as she could remember, she felt like she could finally breathe.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Wake up, shit for brains.”

  Blinding light filled the world as Lance cracked his eyelids open. Last night’s whiskey-induced binge returned to haunt him in the form of a migraine with the force of a jackhammer and the taste of something unpleasant in the bottom of his throat.

  Jace’s face, clean-shaven and freshly scrubbed, hovered above his. His best friend pulled the covers off his alcohol-numbed body. The bastard had pulled the curtains open, letting the sunshine flood into the room, like a promise that the day was going to be bright and wonderful.

  Bullshit.

  “Get up.” Losing his last remaining bit of patience, Jace grabbed his T-shirt collar and tugged.

  Lance reached out and weakly attempted to push him away. “No.”

  Jace tightened his hold on Lance’s collar, and began to drag him out of bed. “Dude, remember that photo of you wearing a panda onesie when you were five? Julianne sent it to me, and I won’t hesitate to post it if you don’t get up. Now.” When Lance continued to play dead, Jace ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “Come on. We have to go to school.”

  No.

  Lance wasn’t going to school, not even if his sister dug up every single embarrassing photo from their childhood and started posting them online. Not today. Not tomorrow. Maybe not until next week.

  School meant sitting behind Melissa and being unable to rip his eyes away from the Big Dipper moles on the back of her neck, letting the gaping hole she’d carved through his heart grow wider and wider until it threatened to devour him. It also meant seeing her father, the principal, and pretending he didn’t want to punch the man in the esophagus.

  He wanted them both to go to hell.

  Well, no, not really, which was the problem.

  A big, heavy sigh escaped through Lance’s nose. “Remember when I said I wasn’t into Melissa? I was lying.”

  Finally, Jace’s fingers loosened around his T-shirt collar, and he landed on the bed with a thud. “Yeah, I figured that out.”

  Staring up at the ceiling, he said, “This is going to make me sound like a complete idiot, but I never thought it would hurt this much. Like someone stuffed my heart in a blender and pushed the power button.”

  “Then, how about you unplug the blender?” Jace gave him a tiny nudge that was more comforting than he ever expected. “You can start by taking a shower. You smell like the gym after basketball practice.”

  This time, Lance complied. Even if he never wanted to get out of bed again, Jace wasn’t going to leave him alone until he did. He kicked the covers off with as much energy as he could muster, grabbed a towel, and headed for the bathroom. Once he was showered and dressed in his uniform, he and Jace met up in the garage.

  “You better be right behind me,” Jace warned before getting into his own car, one finger aimed right at Lance’s chest.

  “Yes, sir,” Lance replied with a little salute.

  The cocky grin on his face faded once Jace’s car peeled out of the driveway. As he walked over to his car, keys in hand, and pulled the door open, the thought of bailing on school and spending the rest of the day in his room with the entire Jason Bourne series began to take over once more. He got in the car before he could change his mind.

  On the drive to school, he couldn’t stop thinking about what Jace said, about turning off the blender that was slowly turning his heart into a disgusting organ smoothie.

  Maybe Jace had a point. He had his entire life stretching out before him. Maybe Melissa was supposed to be a life lesson, an incredibly painful one but a mere life lesson nonetheless.

  The thought hurt like a motherfucker.

  Once his car reached the school parking lot, Lance stepped out, backpack slung over one shoulder. The sun was still out in full force, way too bright and cheery for the foul mood he was in. Students scurried through the hallways to get to their first period classes, and he let himself be carried along.

  "Hey, Lance." Lyka nodded at him with a smile as she walked past him.

  He turned to get a better look at her, her hair swinging around her shoulders.

  "Hey." He attempted to return her smile.

  Why couldn't he have fallen for someone like Lyka instead? She was beautiful, smart, and most of all, they were on the same page. Their names even began with the same letter.

  There was
no room for doubt when he was with her, because her feelings for him were as clear as his reflection in the bathroom mirror that morning. Maybe Melissa and the shitstorm he now found himself in was karma for treating all the other girls he'd dated like crap.

  Poetic justice and all that jazz.

  When he got to first period, Melissa was already in her seat, her hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun. Like the day he discovered the shape her moles made belonged in the night sky. Lance didn't know whether to laugh bitterly or to groan in frustration.

  He let his backpack slip from his shoulder, down his arm, and onto the floor as he took his seat behind her. The school year wasn't even halfway over, but he couldn't bear the thought of being this close to her without actually being with her anymore.

  He was so lost in thought that it took him five minutes to notice the teddy bear perched precariously on the edge of his desk. It was a little bigger than his fist, and it hugged a wooden cylinder.

  Wrapping his fingers around it, Lance pulled the teddy bear closer. He popped the lid off the cylinder and found a rolled piece of paper inside.

  I wish I could rearrange the alphabet, so I could put U and I together. Forgive me? - M

  It was Melissa's use of her initial that threw him, like she couldn't even own up to her apology. Like she thought someone else might find her note and she didn't want them to know she'd written it for him. Despite what the note meant, she was still hiding him like dirty laundry under her bed.

  He wanted to forgive her, but he couldn't. Not now. Maybe not ever.

  As long as she couldn't tell her father—hell, the entire world—about them, there wasn't anything he could do. The thought made him angrier than ever. Knowing she was waiting for his reaction, Lance stuffed the teddy bear inside his backpack.

  Let her stew and wonder for a change.