Dolcezza, do you...do you want to talk about it?.I can't help but question if it's odd that I am unable to communicate with my own father. How on earth would I ever attempt it? Tell him that I initially believed I was in love. That even though I wasn't ready to have a baby, I had sex and became pregnant, and now that it's abruptly gone, I feel a little hollow. Simply poof! akin to magic. No, not magic—Mom was magical—but rather, a terrible force that swept in and devoured me.However, I kind of want to speak with him. I want him to at least ponder. Even if he can't have his bella signora, I hope he can have his sweetheart, therefore I want him to ask, hold me, and call me dolcezza. I sincerely hope I am sufficient. I want to alleviate his sadness the most of all. At night, I have a dream that I have a large eraser that I can use to erase the moments in our past when things first started to shift.Is it as a result of that boy, Ja—? His voice suddenly becomes tense, and despite the hu

My eyes are also watering. Despite not knowing what is wrong with her or what to do, I find myself approaching and sitting down on the chair next to her. I wrapped my arm over her—something no one ever done for me—and I let her cry. Dad tried, but he couldn't bring himself to.And she complies. So many tears, I'm unsure if she still has any.I just sit there, encircling her with my arm, hoping I'm acting appropriately. Because it feels nice to help someone else when I am unable to help myself, I hope that this somehow helps.She wipes her eyes with her sleeve when the tears eventually cease, and her expression instantly transforms. “Wow. I completely lost it on you there. I apologize for it. She gives me a smile. She recently shed a lot of tears, therefore I can't believe she's smiling.I'm doing foolishly, she says. "I just got into an argument with my lover and temporarily lost it. I'm all right now."I believed you lacked a boyfriend?"She opens her mouth as if she just made a mist

Steve mumbles, “Shit,” under his breath before walking over and sitting beside me. We swing for a minute, no noise besides the creak of the chains and the occasional car purring by. I try to work through my thoughts so they make sense. I just swing, and sit, and be with him until I decide to just speak whatever comes out.“I’m sorry. This isn’t me. The bitchiness. I’m just—”“All mixed up,” he continues for me. My head whips to the side and he’s smiling that Steve smile, and I return it.“I’m not always happy, Bryntastic. I’ve dealt with shit, too. I just got to the point where I was over it. Tired of letting anger and pain run my life. I’ve seen what it can do, caring so much what other people think. ”Because of what he went through with his sister.Another eternity passes before I find the courage to speak again. I’ve already admitted a few things to Steve this afternoon that I never would have before. I decide here and now to keep going. Even if it’s baby steps. “I need a friend.

“Emily!” Walking up to us is Emery. “Wow. Take a look at you, mingling and such. That is, with someone other than me. Your very own hottie was brought. Steve appears to emerge from his stupor as she turns to face him. He gives her a little strange look as he examines her. Perhaps he's correct.“What? Not my hottie, he.But do you admit I'm attractive? Steve queries. I gaze back and forth between them, my eyes widening. “What? That isn't... I…” What on earth am I even saying? Steve is sexy. I can't tell him that a girl would have to be blind not to see it. I'm unable to take the action that almost feels flirtatious. I'm also powerless to refuse.Emery responds, "I think she's going to self-combust. Steve's excessively blue eyes draw me in. I like it, Bryntastic. You're hot, too, in my opinion.He turns and leaves, leaving me to contend with the internal conflict between the parts of me that ought to tell him not to say anything similar ever again.and the component that enjoys it. So w

“What?” Steve asks as he eats one of my Doritos before handing them to me.I try not to blush. It’s not like I’m going to remind him of that dance. Tell him he’s the first boy I danced with, too, and that I thought I’d been in love with him. “Nothing. You look tired. ”“I’m tired as hell. ” He leans back against the locker. His guitar case is next to him, but he doesn’t pull it out. “Mom and Angelica were on the phone last night and they got in a fight. It’s the first time she’s heard from her in a while. She always gets all freaked out when they talk, like it’s her fault Angelica couldn’t deal with shit. ““It’s not always that easy—to just get over something, I mean. ”“Maybe it should be,” he tosses back at me. “I’m not trying to say I’m perfect, but when I needed to talk to someone, I did it. I found a way to get over it without pretending it’s the end of the world. ”His words, even though they aren’t meant for me, are like a slap in the face. “So because you can do something, e