Page 31 of Play By The Rules
“What a weirdo,” Betty says, rolling onto her back and staring at the ceiling. I don’t disagree with her. “At least you’ve done it now. And there’s no more dates with him.”
I wince, rolling to face her. “Well, that’s the thing.”
She stares at me, her eyes narrowing while she waits for me to elaborate.
“I may have said yes to a second date when he asked.”
“Why would you do that?”
Why indeed?
“I didn’t mean to,” I tell her truthfully. “When he asked, I opened my mouth to say no, but for some reason I couldn’t do it. I felt awful turning him down despite the fact that I think he’s a truly awful person after that one experience.”
I’m blaming it on my need to never disappoint people. Growing up with a mother like mine, you learn quickly from a young age that disappointed people are not good people; so I rarely say no to things in fear of making others unhappy.
Even if it means I’m miserable.
There’s only one person who I don’t worry about saying no to, but I won’t let myself wonder why. I doubt I’ll like the answers I find.
“Fallon.” She sighs, linking her fingers through mine and squeezing. “You’re a good person, but I worry that it’s going to get you into trouble one day.”
Yeah, me too.
“It’ll be fine, what’s one more bad date? Anyway, isn’t it a rite of passage to rack them up anyway at this age?”
“If you say so.” She scoffs, rolling her eyes at me. “Date the creep again. What could possibly go wrong?”
“Maybe he was just nervous.” I laugh, knowing that isn’t the truth. That guy was confident. Too fucking confident, he was bordering on cocky; and while some men can carry that off well, he isn’t one of them.
“Keep telling yourself whatever you need to if it helps you sleep at night. Come on,” she says, sliding off the bed. “I’ll make us a cuppa and we can watch one of those shitty action movies you love so much.”
My phone buzzes from the arm of the chair I’m curled up in, watchingTakenon the TV. Betty shouts at the screen, getting way too into the “shitty” movie, as she likes to call them. We’ve been in the same position for the entire morning, watching films and eating our body weight in crisps and chocolate.
When my phone continues to vibrate, I give up on trying to ignore it and answer the call.
“Mother,” I say as her high-pitched voice comes down the receiver.
“Fallon, I’m so glad I caught you, darling.”
Wow. Aliens have invaded and taken over my mother. That, or she’s hanging out with some of her friends. Friends who haven’t got a clue of the sick twisted bitch she is. “Are you on your way?”
Furrowing my brows at that, I have absolutely no idea what she’s talking about. “On my way to where?”
“Home,” she snaps loudly, barely keeping up the warm-mother routine with her bitter tone. “You’re supposed to be here, in London, for the gala.”
She says the word gala as if it should actually mean something. It doesn’t. Outside of Kyle mentioning it once, I know nothing about the event tonight, nor was I invited.
“That would be a negative. No one has told me anything about a gala, and I’m currently sitting on my armchair, in the Dales, eating crisps in my pyjamas.”
“Young lady,” she hisses down the phone. “You will get in that car of yours that I kindly bought for you and make the drive home. Do you understand? You have to be here tonight.”
Dad bought me my matte black Range Rover for my eighteenth birthday. The only nice thing he’s ever done for me—giving me some semblance of freedom—but I digress.
“The drive alone will take almost five hours. Since I know nothing about this event and haven’t been given an invitation, I doubt I have anything proper to wear.”
“Don’t you worry about that; I’ve already arranged for someone to come and give you some dresses to try on. And as for the drive, I don’t care. You will make the trip.”
She talks to someone in the background, while Betty stares at me mouthing,You okay?