{WATTYS 2021/2022 SHORTLIST}{Editor's Pick} {Featured Story}
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One girl. Two boys. An impossible choice.
Stella LaFever, a theatre student from California, can't wait to spend a summer in Newport, Rhode I...
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Chapter Song: Champagne Problems by Taylor Swift
The sharp, barking voice echoed through the empty restaurant, causing pain to lance inside my ears. One of the many side effects of...my problem was that my hearing had become incredibly sensitive.
It's nothing, Stella. Don't think about it.
An older man with perfectly coiffed gray hair and a severe jaw was striding towards us. He was dressed in a white military-style jacket, just like West's, except I counted four stars on his gold shoulder boards. A rainbow of ribbons and pins gleamed on his chest, and a skinny cutlass dangled from his waist.
I decided this man was someone I didn't want to cross. There was an aire of command about him—an intangible quality that made me want to shrink into a corner.
But as much as I wanted to disappear, West's whole demeanor had changed. Razor-straight stance. Legs stiff. Hands at his sides. An emotionless, thousand yard stare in his dark eyes.
His sugary, syrupy confidence had been sucked out, replaced with the unmistakable look of a soldier.
This boy didn't dance or smile or blush. No. This boy followed orders.
"Don't act like a mute, boy!" shouted the man, who was now close enough to slap. Again, I tried not to wince. "I asked you a question. Speak!"
West nervously wetted his lips. "Just getting an oyster, dad. I mean, sir."
Dad?
Oh. So this was Admiral Tenney. Well, shit.
"Just getting an oyster?" Admiral Tenney asked. His voice dangerous and taunting. "Searching for her pearls, were you?" An accusatory finger was jabbed in my direction. "Did you find them in the back of her throat? Or up her skirt?"
Embarrassment crawled from the pit of my stomach up the column of my neck. He was talking about me like I wasn't even here.
"No, sir. Nothing like that, sir. I mean, there was an accident. Her tray hit my arm, and a drink spilled on my whites. We ended up in here. I didn't mean to—"
I interrupted West with an offended snort. Oh, so now I was responsible for the chocolate milk spill. And the ensuing dance was all my idea.
The accusation stung more than I expected.
West didn't glance in my direction. His gaze fixed somewhere over his father's shoulder.
"For Christ's sake, West," the admiral snapped. "You find new ways to disappointment me every day."
Even though West's father wasn't talking to me, I felt the weight of his words deep inside my bones.
He continued, undeterred. "Your mother has been looking everywhere for you."
