But Dad i Love Him

Chapter 6: The Party

Friday arrived with a grey, bruised sky that threatened snow. The rumors about Julian and me had metastasized across Oakridge High like wildfire over the last forty-eight hours. What had started as a single photo posted to a group chat was now a full-blown narrative: the principal’s daughter had completely lost her mind, fallen for the local delinquent, and turned her back on everything she was supposed to represent.

My father spent the entire morning treating me with a terrifying, icy detachment. He didn't raise his voice; he simply spoke to me through short, clinical directives. Sit there. Eat your toast. Go to class. His silence was far worse than his shouting. It was the calm before a storm, a quiet promise that he was assembling a plan to obliterate whatever rebellion he thought I was staging.

By 4:00 PM, Julian and I were back under the rusted iron frame of the visitor bleachers. The cold was brutal, turning our breath into thick clouds that hovered between us in the dim space.

"You did well on the quiz," I said, handing back his graded Algebra paper. A bright red 88% sat at the top of the page. "Mr. Harrison looked like he was having a stroke when he handed it to you."

Julian took the paper, a small, genuine smile tugging at the corner of his mouth before he folded it and shoved it into his jacket. "Told you I'm a quick study, Princess. Though I think Harrison thought I cheated off the kid next to me."

"He checked your scratch paper," I said softly, pulling my knees into my chest to keep warm. "He saw the work. He knows you did it yourself."

Julian looked down at his boots, his dark curls falling over his forehead. "Doesn't mean he'll give me the benefit of the doubt next time. People around here have long memories for bad things and short ones for good."

Before I could answer, the crunch of gravel outside alerted us to footsteps. But it wasn't Coach Miller or my father. It was Sarah and Chloe, wrapped in expensive, oversized winter coats, stepping timidly under the metal beams.

"Maya?" Chloe asked, her voice echoing strangely in the hollow space. She glanced nervously at Julian, her posture rigid with obvious discomfort. "We... we saw you walk down here."

Julian immediately stood up, his relaxed demeanor evaporating as he leaned his shoulder against the steel support post, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. "Ladies," he said, his voice flat and uninviting.

Sarah took a step forward, ignoring Julian completely to focus on me. "Maya, everyone is going to Marcus Vance’s place tonight—well, the warehouse near the docks where the seniors throw the bonfire after-parties. We know you're grounded, but your dad is at the district administration meeting in Capital City tonight. He won't be back until tomorrow morning."

I blinked, caught off guard. "How do you know that?"

"My dad is on the school board, remember?" Sarah said, waving her hand dismissively. "The meeting was moved to 6:00 PM tonight. Your mom is at her book club until nine. If you want to come out, tonight is literally your only chance to be a normal senior."

"She isn't going," Julian cut in, his voice dropping into a low, protective register that vibrated through the chilly air.

Chloe sneered, turning her sharp gaze to him. "Excuse me? Who asked you, Vance? You don't own her just because she's riding around in your rusty car."

"Julian, it's fine," I said, standing up from my bucket and brushing the dirt off my track pants. I looked at Sarah and Chloe, feeling a strange mix of detachment and curiosity. Three days ago, I would have begged for their approval. Now, looking at their polished, artificial concern, I felt nothing. "Why are you really inviting me? You left me stranded at the quarry three nights ago."

Sarah flushed, a guilty pink rising over her cheekbones. "We panicked, Maya! The cops showed up! But tonight is different. Everyone is talking about you two. If you don't show up, people are going to think your dad locked you in a cage. You need to show people you have a spine."

"She has a spine," Julian said, stepping directly between me and Sarah, his broad shoulders blocking them from my view. "What she doesn't need is friends who run the second things get inconvenient. Get out of here."

"Julian, stop," I whispered, reaching out to touch his leather sleeve. "Let me handle this."

He turned his head slightly, his dark eyes searching mine with intense, silent concern. But he stepped back, giving me space.

I looked at Sarah and Chloe. "I'll think about it."

"The party starts at eight," Sarah said, dropping a handwritten address onto the wooden crate. "Don't let him keep you in the dark, Maya."

They turned on their designer boots and hurried away, their hushed voices fading into the winter wind.

At 8:30 PM, the warehouse down by the old industrial docks was deafening. Bass rattled the corrugated tin walls, flashing red and blue strobe lights cutting through a thick haze of smoke and condensation. Hundreds of teenagers from Oakridge and the neighboring towns packed the concrete floor, red plastic cups in hand.

I stood near the heavy iron entrance, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. I was wearing a black sweater and dark jeans, my hair down—a sharp departure from my usual neat, principal-approved attire. I hadn't snuck out for Sarah or Chloe. I had snuck out because I was tired of being afraid of my own shadow.

"You actually came."

I spun around. Julian was standing near a stack of wooden pallets, holding a glass bottle of sparkling soda. He wore his usual black hoodie under his leather jacket, his dark hair messy from the damp air outside. He looked at me, his eyes running over my sweater, a spark of pure, unadulterated shock crossing his features.

"I told you I'm not scared anymore," I said, stepping closer to him so I wouldn't have to scream over the music. "And my mom left for her dinner party at eight sharp. I have two hours."

Julian shook his head, a faint, breathless laugh escaping his lips. "You're insane, Maya. If your dad finds out—"

"He's two hours away in Capital City," I interrupted, a small, reckless smile touching my face. "For the next two hours, Principal Brooks doesn't exist."

Julian stared at me for a long, heavy moment. The harsh neon lights mapped the sharp angles of his jawline, illuminating the deep green specks in his dark eyes. Slowly, the guarded edge he always carried softened.

"Come on," he murmured, taking my hand. His palm was warm, his grip solid and reassuring as he navigated us through the crowded room toward a quieter corner near the loading dock doors. "Let's get you away from the varsity crowd before they lose their minds."

We leaned against the cold metal railing overlooking the dark water of the harbor. The heavy bass from the party drifted behind us, muffled and distant.

"Thank you," I said softly, looking out at the distant lights of the city reflected on the black water. "For not telling me 'I told you so' about my friends."

"I don't need to," Julian replied, leaning his elbows on the railing beside me. "You already knew what they were. You just needed to see it for yourself."

"They used to be my entire world," I admitted, my voice barely audible over the lap of the water against the wooden pilings below. "Everything was about keeping up appearances. Being perfect. Never making a mistake."

"Perfection is a trap, Princess," Julian said softly. He turned to face me, his shoulder resting against the metal beam. "It makes people fragile. The second something breaks, they don't know how to put the pieces back together."

"And you?" I asked, looking up into his dark eyes. "Are you broken?"

"I was born in the middle of a mess," Julian said, a small, self-deprecating smile touching his lips. "You can't break what was never whole to begin with."

"Don't say that," I said fiercely, reaching out and grabbing his forearm. "You're the strongest person I know, Julian. You take care of your brother, you work night shifts, you take the blame for things you didn't do... you're not broken. You're just fighting alone."

Julian froze. His gaze dropped to my hand on his sleeve, then slowly raised to my face. The playful banter, the protective swagger—all of it stripped away, leaving an raw, vulnerable intensity that made my breath catch in my throat.

"I'm not fighting alone anymore," he whispered, his voice rough and deep. "Not since you walked under those bleachers."

He raised his hand, his long fingers gently brushing a stray lock of hair behind my ear. His touch was feather-light, sending a shiver straight down my spine that had nothing to do with the winter air. I leaned into his palm instinctively, my eyes locking onto his.

The space between us dissolved. The noise of the party, the cold wind, the fear of my father—everything evaporated until there was only Julian, the heat of his body, and the overwhelming, electric pull drawing us together.

He tilted his head down, his dark eyes flickering to my lips before searching my gaze for permission.

"Maya..." he breathed.

"Julian," I whispered.

Before our lips could touch, the heavy double doors of the loading dock flew open with a violent metallic bang.

Bright, piercing white lights flooded the shadowy corner, blinding us both. A heavy, furious voice boomed across the platform, cutting through the music like a razor blade.

"MAYA BETHANY BROOKS!"

My heart stopped. My blood ran completely cold, turning to liquid ice in my veins.

Standing at the top of the concrete steps, flanked by two local police officers and holding his heavy winter coat, was my father. He hadn't stayed in Capital City. He was standing ten feet away, his face twisted into a terrifying, apocalyptic mask of rage.

"Dad," I gasped, stepping back from Julian, my hands shaking uncontrollably.

"Get away from her, Vance!" my father roared, descending the steps like a storm. He shoved Julian back with a heavy hand to his chest, placing his body entirely between us. "I warned you! I gave you every opportunity to stay away from my daughter!"

Julian didn't fall back far. He absorbed the shove, his jaw clenching hard, his dark eyes flaring with a dangerous, dark fire. "Mr. Brooks, calm down—"

"Do not speak to me!" my father screamed, his voice echoing off the tin walls of the warehouse as partygoers gathered in a hushed, shocked circle around us. "You dragged her into this gutter! You ruined her future!"

"She came here on her own!" Julian shouted back, standing his ground, his chest heaving under his jacket. "She's tired of living in your gilded cage!"

"She is a minor, and I am her father!" Principal Brooks turned to the officers behind him, pointing a rigid, trembling finger at Julian. "Officer, I want this boy arrested for harboring a runaway and contributing to the delinquency of a minor. Process his transfer to the county detention facility immediately!"

"Dad, NO!" I shrieked, throwing myself forward and grabbing my father's heavy coat sleeve. Tears burst from my eyes, hot and blinding against the freezing air. "It was my fault! I lied to Mom! I came here by myself! He didn't drag me anywhere!"

"You are coming home right now, Maya," my father said, his voice dropping into a cold, terrifying whisper as he grabbed my wrist with a iron grip. "And as for you, Vance... your time at Oakridge High is officially over."

"Don't touch her like that," Julian growled, stepping forward, his knuckles white as his hands clenched into tight fists.

The two police officers stepped in instantly, grabbing Julian's arms and forcing him back against the cold steel railing.

"Julian!" I screamed as my father dragged me toward the exit doors, my sneakers sliding against the slippery concrete floor.

Julian met my eyes through the crowd of whispering, phone-recording students. He didn't struggle against the officers, but his eyes were burning with a fierce, unbreakable promise that cut straight through the nightmare unfolding around us.

"I'm fine, Maya!" Julian called out, his voice strong and clear above the chaos. "Don't let him break you!"

My father shoved me into the back seat of his car, slamming the door shut, sealing me in the suffocating dark as the police lights began to flash against the warehouse walls. My life hadn't just broken—it had shattered into a thousand jagged pieces, and the war for my freedom had officially begun.