Awkwardly Ever After by Marni Bates Page A

because the tears were definitely sliding down my cheeks in wavering lines. And no matter how quickly I wiped them away, there was always a fresh set to take their place.
    I couldn’t seem to move and once again, I heard Dylan’s words playing over and over again in my head. Only this time he wasn’t telling me that his dad had bailed on him. I heard him asking me a question.
    What. Do. You. Want. Melanie? What. Do. You. Want. Melanie?
    What. Do. You. Want. Melanie?
    I wanted to scream, “I don’t know!” but I couldn’t get the lie past the lump in my throat. Dylan was right: I knew exactly what I wanted.
    A father who would choose me over a beer bottle.
    That was never going to happen.
    My heart felt like it was being ripped to shreds by that simple truth. He was never going to be the man whom I needed. For whatever reason—assuming that a rough childhood with a disapproving mother I’d never met and a genetic predisposition to drink counted as legitimate reasons—that was beyond him.
    I felt like I was being gutted. This, right here, was why I had fought so damn hard not to confront him. As long as I had been able to pretend that my dad would change if I ever mustered the nerve to ask him to do it, I had hope. I had a fantasy father who would face down his darkest demons for my sake.
    That man wasn’t real, though.
    I had wanted and tried and failed.
    And it hurt like hell.
    But it was also a relief. That fantasy father would still haunt my daydreams with his alcohol-free breath and his clean-shaven jaw. But I couldn’t keep beating myself up for not being good enough to make him a reality.
    Okay, maybe that was an exaggeration; there was no escaping the what-ifs that constantly swirled around my brain. What if a proper intervention could convince him to enter rehab? What if we took him to an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting? What if my mom and I left so that he could finally hit rock bottom?
    What if he required his life to get that bad in order to make a change?
    Yeah, I would be wondering those questions for years to come. And that was only if I got lucky and he didn’t drink himself into the grave first.
    Still, I had spoken up.
    I had finally admitted what I wanted, and there was a comfort in that knowledge even in the wake of rejection.
    Now I had to face the unavoidable fact that you can’t always get what you want.
    If it matters enough to you, then it’s worth crying through the pain.
    And there was someone else who mattered enough to me.
    So the real question was whether or not I had the courage to face another rejection.

Chapter 9
    â€œIt’s not fair!” Bethany Smarson pouted as she turned to face her part-time friend—and full-time rival—Ashleigh Brody. “We’re totally, like, the most popular girls at this school. How is it even possible that we don’t have dates to prom yet?”
    Ashleigh contemplated that deep theological question while she checked to make sure her spray tan wasn’t blotchy. “Well . . . who do you want to go with?”
    â€œNobody in particular,” Bethany murmured coyly.
    It was a lie and even Ashleigh knew it.
    Â 
    â€”from “Prom and Backstabbing,”
by Jane Smith
Published by The Wordsmith
    D ylan had told me to give him a call when I figured out what I wanted, but I didn’t think he meant that literally.
    I didn’t think I could handle having that conversation any other way than face-to-face. Although I couldn’t help imagining his reaction if I tweeted him.
    Â 
    HEY @DYLANWELLESLEY, I LIKE YOU. WANT TO BE SEEN IN PUBLIC WITH ME? ON A DATE? #SORRYABOUTYESTERDAY #MYBAD
    Â 
    Yeah, that wouldn’t be uncomfortable at all.
    Especially if his response didn’t require anywhere near the 140 allotted characters.
    Â 
    NO THANKS, @MELMORRIS .
    Â 
    And, okay, it wasn’t like a private phone call would have any chance of turning into a public humiliation.