ERIN
I let out a sigh of frustration as I stood in front of the mirror, contemplating my outfit. The once-confident version of myself seemed to have vanished, replaced by an overwhelming sense of self-doubt. It was a familiar feeling that had plagued me for years, but today it seemed stronger than ever.
 
My reflection stared back at me, highlighting every flaw, real or imagined. The crop top, once appealing, now seemed loud and attention-seeking. The skirt, a symbol of femininity and allure, felt tight and restrictive against my body. Suddenly, the entire ensemble seemed inappropriate, as if I was desperately trying too hard to be noticed.
 
Gazing at my reflection, I pushed the skirt down, trying to make it appear more modest. But as I held it at knee-length, it lost the essence of its original design, becoming a mediocre compromise instead. Frustration swelled within me as I realized that no matter what I did, my perception of myself would remain tainted by the voice of insecurity that haunted my mind.
 
"I can't wear this," I murmured to myself.
 
"Hell no, you're wearing that," I heard a man say right outside my door, his voice echoing through the room. As the sound reached my ears, I froze in confusion. I glanced only at my Dad's thunderous footsteps, which grew louder as he approached my room with a cup of coffee in hand. When he barged in, I was surprised to find him still dressed in his police uniform.
 
"Dad, why are you still in your uniform?" I asked, bewildered by his presence in my room and his serious expression. He went straight to my closet.
"I'll be working late tonight. My dear, I just came home to check on you," he replied, not looking at me while still searching for something in my closet.
 
"Does Mom know you're working late?" I asked, my voice laced with concern, as I watched him pull out various items from the shelves.
 
"Yeah, I knew she would be at the grocery store today, so I came over and told her," he simply replied. How did Dad know Mom was at the grocery store? Mom told me she left her phone at the office; there's no way Mom told her on the phone, right?
 
"Here, wear this," my dad said as he handed me a black hoodie with a New York print on it and a white tennis skirt. I stared at the outfit, perplexed. It was not what I was expecting to wear on such an important night.
 
"You're meeting that boy, Jacob, right?" my dad asked, his voice hinting at both concern and disapproval. His tone was strict, leaving me wondering what had triggered it.
 
"Yeah, but I can just stay at home if you like," I suggested, feeling the familiar rush of nervousness before a date. The thought of curling up in my cozy pajamas, safely tucked away from the world, seemed appealing at that moment. But Dad just smiled as he tenderly caressed my face, his eyes filled with encouragement.
 
"You're on a date, young lady," he replied with a mischievous glint in his eye. "So dress as casually as possible." His words caught me off guard. I had expected him to lecture me about manners or give some fatherly advice, but casual attire? Confused, I looked down at my outfit and back at him. Yeah, Dad's right, I looked too daring with this outfit.
 
"Dad, we're not going on a date, just... you know, a casual hangout like friends do?" I reiterated, trying to convince him once again. It was important to me that he understood my intentions.
 
Dad turned towards me, wearing a mischievous grin that mirrored my own. His eyes twinkled with fond memories as he looked into mine. "That's what your mother told your grandfather when she was your age," he chuckled, his voice laced with nostalgia.
 
I burst into laughter, picturing my mom as a carefree teenager trying to convince her dad of the same thing. It was comforting to know that my desire for a close friendship with my dad was rooted in family history.
 
"Who's the lucky guy?" I teased him, a mischievous smile spreading across my face. Dad tilted his head back and laughed heartily, his eyes twinkling with a mix of joy and nostalgia.
 
"Me." The word echoed in my mind as I blankly stared at Dad, trying to digest the weight of what he had just revealed. I didn't believe him at first; I thought he was playing some elaborate joke on me. But his hardened gaze and his serious expression made me realize that he wasn't kidding.
 
"Dad, you're joking, right?" I muttered, struggling to find the right words to express my disbelief.
 
A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips, but his eyes remained steadfast. "No, my dear," he said, chuckling.
"You know, dear," my dad began, his eyes filled with nostalgic affection, "your mom and I were high school sweethearts. She was my first girlfriend, and I was her first boyfriend too."
 
I leaned closer, eager to hear more about their love story. My parents rarely spoke about their past, but whenever they did, it always intrigued me.
 
"I was the captain of the rugby team," my dad continued, a hint of pride in his voice, "and your mom was a cheerleader. We were inseparable, always supporting each other on and off the field."
 
A wave of admiration washed over me as I imagined my parents in their younger days, full of dreams and determination. It was no wonder they had always encouraged me to pursue my passions and ambitions.
 
"We both had big dreams," my dad said softly, his gaze filled with love. "Your mom wanted to become a dancer, and I dreamt of playing professional rugby. But life doesn't always turn out the way we imagine."
 
My heart fluttered with curiosity as my dad's words hung in the air. I had never known about their dreams, always assuming they had effortlessly transitioned into the roles of husband and wife and, later, parents. But now I realize there is so much more to their story.
 
"Your mom and I made a choice," my dad continued, his voice tinged with a mix of nostalgia and contentment. "We adjusted our dreams so that we could build a life together, raise a family, and support each other through the ups and downs."
 
Silently, I absorbed the weight of my parents' sacrifice. The dreams they had once cherished had taken a backseat to the responsibilities of life. And yet, there was an undeniable love and fulfillment in their eyes that told me they wouldn't have it any other way.
 
"You, my dear," my dad whispered, his eyes welling up with pride, "are our dream. We want you to live a life that brings you joy and fulfillment, to chase your dreams unapologetically."
 
"That's why you knew where Mom was even though she didn't tell you," I blurted out, unable to contain my curiosity any longer. "Because you have this unspoken communication as a couple?"
 
Dad turned to me and smiled affectionately. "Your Mom and I just simply know each other well because I love her and she loves me too," he replied.
 
I nodded, trying to comprehend the depth of their connection. It was a bond that went beyond words, beyond the mundane daily routines. It was something special, something magical. Suddenly, Dad and I both heard the door ring, interrupting our conversation.
 
"I'll take it; get dressed; your date might be waiting," Dad jokingly said before landing a kiss on my forehead. I chuckled as I watched Dad leave my room. I wish I could find someone as good as my Dad.
 
Ever since I was a little girl, my dad has always been my superhero. He was the embodiment of everything I admired in a person. Kind, loving, and always there for me, Dad had set the bar high when it came to finding a potential partner. But as I grew older, the harsh reality of the dating world altered my perception.
I immediately put on the clothes Dad wanted me to wear. I looked cool wearing this black hoodie, paired with a white tennis skirt just an inch above my knee, and a pair of Vans old school skater shoes I got from my parents as a birthday present.
 
As I stood in front of the mirror, admiring my outfit, I couldn't help but wonder where my dad had found such a unique combination. Our styles were usually completely different, with me being more into artsy fashion while he stuck to classic and casual looks. Nevertheless, I trusted his taste and decided to give it a shot.
 
"Simplicity is indeed beauty," I said to myself before making my way out of my room.
 
I was running down the stairs, my heart pounding in my chest, desperate to reach the bottom. The sound of my hurried footsteps echoed through the silent house, a house that had been filled with tension for weeks.
 
But as I reached the landing, something caught my eye—Jacob, standing in front of the door, talking with my Dad. They seemed deeply engrossed in their conversation, their voices low and hushed. I paused for a second, frozen in place, unsure whether to interrupt or proceed quietly.
 
Jacob's eyes suddenly flickered towards me, recognizing my presence before my Dad did. His face broke into a warm smile, something he hadn't done in a long time. Startled by his reaction, Dad turned his gaze towards me, his eyes full of warmth and joy.
 
"Ah, there you are!" he called out, his voice bringing me back to the present moment. "We were just discussing something important."
 
Dad asked and extended his hand to Jacob. "It's great to meet you, Jacob. Please take good care of my daughter for me, will you?"
 
Jacob's eyes swelled with gratitude and admiration for the man in front of him. Offering a genuine smile, he shook Dad's hand firmly. "I will, Mr. Kenton," Jacob promised, his voice tinged with determination.
"And you, young lady, don't be home late, alright? I don't want to worry your mom," he said to me, tapping me right on the shoulder. I nodded, giving him a reassuring smile while studying the lines etched on his forehead. Time had taken its toll on my father, but his concern for me remained unchanged.
 
"You should get going now," Dad added, his voice tinged with concern. I nodded in response, my heart heavy with excitement and fear, before giving him a tight hug.
 
"I'll be home soon enough, Dad," I said as soon as I let go of the hug and made my way out of the house while waving my hand at him. It was a warm summer evening, and I could already feel the excitement bubbling within me.
 
"It's nice to meet you too, Mr. Kenton; we'll be on our way now," Jacob said politely as they exchanged nods of acknowledgment. Dad's warm smile reflected his trust in Jacob, which put me at ease.
 
Walking towards Jacob's sleek car parked by the curb, he gracefully opened the door for me. It was a small gesture, but it spoke volumes about his chivalry and thoughtfulness. I thanked him with a smile and slipped into the comfortable passenger seat.
 
With the engine humming softly, Jacob skillfully maneuvered the vehicle onto the open road. As we drove away, I couldn't help but steal one last glance at Dad. I saw him standing on the porch, waving his hand at me. His gentle smile assured me of his trust in Jacob and his belief in my choices.
"You've got a cool Dad, Erin," Jacob jokingly said while driving the car, and I couldn't help but chuckle. It was true; my dad was unlike any other parent. He had a youthful spirit and an insatiable thirst for new experiences. Growing up, he taught me the importance of embracing life and seeking out thrilling adventures.
 
"Yeah, he is cool, but most of the time he's very overprotective of me. I am impressed that he gave you a handshake; he barely does that, by the way," I replied to him.
 
Jacob's eyes widened as he gazed intently at me, and his eyebrows knitted in surprise. "Wait, you're serious?" he asked, his voice filled with incredulity. He almost couldn't believe what he had just heard.
 
I nodded, unable to take my eyes off his face. I could see a myriad of emotions flickering in his eyes, but most of all, I saw excitement and joy. A radiant smile spread across Jacob's face, and relief washed over me. His reaction was exactly what I had hoped for—genuine happiness.
 
"Anyway, would you mind telling me where we're going?" I asked him, breaking the silence that had settled between us.
 
Jacob glanced at me, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. "Oh yeah, about that, do you play bowling?" he replied, a twinkle in his eyes.
 
I furrowed my brows. "Yeah, why?"
 
He chuckled softly, keeping his eyes on the road. He shrugged his shoulders before saying, "We're going to an arcade place with a bowling alley so we can play together."
 
"That's great! Wanna bet?" I challenged him, and he just smirked before glancing at me. His eyes sparkled mischievously, as if he had a secret he was itching to share. Intrigued, I leaned in closer, eager to hear what he had in mind.
 
"What would you offer?" he repeated, his voice laced with confidence.
 
"Anything," I replied, laughter bubbling within me. I just couldn't believe he accepted my challenge. Besides being confident that I would win, I was undefeated when it came to bowling. Not even my dad, who was once a champion in bowling competitions, could defeat me. So I made the bold claim that I would gladly give anything to Jacob if he ever defeated me.
 
"That's your word against mine; no taking it back," He said in the most confident tone of his voice.
 
"That wouldn't be a problem, Mr. Jock," I replied challengeably.
...
As we stepped through the entrance of the arcade, the electrifying atmosphere immediately engulfed us. Flashing lights and booming sounds filled the air, intertwining with laughter and the clinking of coins. Jacob and I exchanged beaming smiles, thrilled to embark on an evening of nostalgic fun.
 
We made our way towards the bowling alley, passing rows of arcade machines, each emitting its unique melody and luring us to try our luck. The vibrant colors of a racing game caught my eye, but I shook off the temptation, knowing that tonight was all about spending quality time with Jacob and enjoying some friendly competition.
 
I turn around with my hands inside the pockets of my hoodie to look at Jacob. The vibrant neon lights flickered around us as the sound of Pac-Man swallowed the room. Jacob walked beside me, his attention wholly absorbed by the flashing screens and the buzzing atmosphere. I, on the other hand, found myself inadvertently drawn to him.
 
As I turned my gaze towards Jacob, his face was unexpectedly bathed in a vivid hue of purple. The lights accentuated his features, highlighting his sharp jawline and the sparkle in his eyes. At that moment, I couldn't help but notice how handsome he was.
 
Caught off guard, my mind momentarily wandered, and for an inexplicable reason, an image of someone else appeared before me. Clark's face flashed in my mind, and my heart skipped a beat. A wave of confusion washed over me, leaving me bewildered and unsure of what I was experiencing.
 
I quickly snapped out of my daze, shaking my head forcefully to dispel the intrusive thought. I was surprised by the intensity of the image and the conflicting emotions it brought forth. It felt as though I had crossed an invisible boundary within our friendship, one that I wasn't prepared to face.
 
Suddenly, my footsteps faltered, causing Jacob to turn his head towards me. Concern etched across his face as he inquired, "Are you okay?" His voice resonated with a tenderness that startled me.
 
"Yeah, I'm fine," I nervously explained, attempting to dismiss the sudden influx of thoughts that had overwhelmed me. "Just some random thoughts." I hoped my dull response would satisfy him, but the worry in his eyes persisted.
 
"This way to the bowling alley," he happily said as he walked past me and guided the way towards the bowling alley. As I walked behind him, I couldn't understand why Clark had been occupying my thoughts so much lately. He was just an acquaintance—someone I always see at school. There was nothing exceptional about him that would justify this sudden preoccupation.
 
The sound of the bowling alley grew louder as we approached, and I shook off my thoughts, trying to focus on the present moment. I needed to enjoy this night out with Jacob and forget about my inexplicable fixation on Clark.
 
As we approached the bowling lanes, Jacob and I grabbed two pairs of bowling shoes from the counter and triumphantly slipped them on, eagerly anticipating the clash of pins that awaited us. The familiar scent of polished wood mingled with the aroma of freshly baked snacks from the arcade's food court, making the atmosphere even more tantalizing.
 
As we selected our bowling balls, I couldn't help but notice the diverse crowd around us. Families, couples, and friends were all bonding over strikes and spares. It was heartwarming to witness these moments of connection amidst the flashing arcade games.
 
Taking our place at adjacent lanes, the familiar rumble of the bowling ball rolling down the polished lane echoed once again. Jacob took his first turn, his eyes focused and his determination evident. With a swift release, he sent the ball hurtling toward the pins, knocking down an impressive eight.
 
Encouraged by his proficiency, I stepped forward to take my turn. The weight of the ball in my hands felt comforting, bringing back a sense of familiarity. As I lined up my shot, memories of my father coaching me during our family outings flooded my mind. His words of wisdom echoed in my thoughts, allowing me to find my rhythm.
 
With a fluid motion, I released the ball, infusing it with all my concentration and energy. As it gracefully glided down the lane, it collided with the pins at precisely the right angle, unleashing a glorious strike. A wave of satisfaction washed over me as I turned toward Jacob, winking confidently at him.