Ana left early that morning, the smell
of her perfume lingered in my sheets.
That same shyness seemed to wash over us again as we got dressed. I watched as she pulled her hair up into a messy bun and smoothed out the front of her dress.
She slipped out the front door just as the sun peeked over the clouds, but not before giving me a quick kiss goodbye.
I shut the door behind me and whirled around to face my dad, pajama-clad, a smirk on his lips.
“You sly dog.” He ran a hand through his shoulder length locks, working his fingers through the knots he came across.
“Dad, please, it was nothing weird.” I yawned. “Please, if she comes back around and you’re here, don’t do anything..cringy.”
“You can spare me the details,” He twisted his wild mane into a bun and pulled at the hem of his tanktop. Slowly, he shuffled to the kitchen and started up the fancy expresso maker he’d gotten as a gift from one of his students the year before.
“Good.” I let out a little sigh of relief, and followed him to the kitchen. I rummaged around until I found a few stale Pop-Tarts that were just chilling in some seldom-used cabinet.
“Did you at least use protection?” He said as he flicked a chrome nob on the Italian-made machine.
“Of course!” I shot back. It came out sharper than intended.
“Alright, alright, I just want to make sure that I don’t have to prep myself for life as a forty-year old grandpa.” He put up both hands in surrender and grinned. His eyes sparked and crinkled mischievously.