Starboy

Chapter 30: Keeping Secrets

Benji

I've always been a secretive person. I come from a family that practically worships keeping secrets. Dad cheated on Mom for years before she eventually found out—he wasn't even the one to tell her about it. Mom is part of dozens of socialite groups who sit and gossip about other people's lives, but never their own.

I guess there's something safe and comforting about keeping your life private, even things that you shouldn't be scared or embarrassed to tell other people.

Naturally, I picked that habit up—the habit of keeping things private. The only person I can ever be even remotely honest with is Brandy. She's gentle, and she never judges you.

It isn't that I don't want to tell Brandy about Ophelia, it's just that I don't know how. Or maybe some part of me wants to remain to keep things secretive. After all, you're nothing without your secrets. That always scared me.

Dad called me after my midterm and insisted I come back to the penthouse to 'have a talk.' Whatever that means...

Whenever Dad wants to talk, it's never good.

The elevator dings and the doors open to my old house. I breathe in and feel nostalgic at the smell of this place. You never know what home really smells like until you've been away for a while. And this place smells like Chanel No. 5, vodka, and lavender shampoo. It's oddly specific.

"Dad," I say as I notice him on the couch, reading a newspaper. "What's up? Why am I here?"

"What's up?" He repeats. "A gentlemen should not use that idiotic language."

I sigh, not in the mood for this. I sit down on the couch across from him and place one leg over my knee. "I don't have time for this, Dad. Please. I'm exhausted from studying my ass off for my midterm and I have somewhere to be tonight." I complain.

He lowers his paper and looks at me. "Let me guess..." he says. "A party? What sort of drugs will you be doing tonight, Benji?" He mocks me.

I scoff, annoyed at his little comment. "I'm not doing drugs anymore," I mutter. "I haven't even had a drink in weeks."

He laughs to himself. "Right."

"No, I mean it," I insist. "I'm clean."

"Oh, yeah?" He places the paper on his lap. "And may I ask, what has encouraged this good behaviour?" He asks. "Natalie, I assume." He smiles.

I shake my head lightly. "Brandy, actually." I surprise him. He raises an eyebrow. "Living with her has been good to me. She's a good influence."

"Why, yes. Brandy is quite a mature young lady. But what about Natalie? She only drinks at social events—isn't that a good influence?"

"About Natalie..." I start. "Dad, I have something to tell you."

He narrows his eyes at me. "Yes?"

"You know it's never going to happen, Dad. I'm never going to marry her. I... I don't even like her. I'm sorry, Dad, I'm really sorry. I'm going to tell her it's over. I can't do this anymore, I can't pretend to be something that I'm not. More importantly, I can't pretend to love someone I don't love." I finally confide in him.

After a minute of simply staring at me, he sighs. I expected a lot of yelling and screaming so I braced myself... but he doesn't look like he's going to get angry. Unless he's waiting for his perfect moment.

"You think I'm an idiot, Benji?" He chuckles. "I know you're not in love with the girl. You hardly touch her, nevertheless, look at her. I can see right through it. You're not a great actor, you know."