I'm not surprised

David POV

I pulled out my black flask containing alcohol, the sour liquid hitting the back of my throat but doing nothing to take the edge off my attitude toward all of this bullshit.

I'm currently in front of the house, leaning against the railing that lines the front steps, trying to forget what just happened in the office with Dahlia, not with her damn uptight father and my mother. I know I should care that we're about to become siblings or step-siblings but I couldn't give a tiny shit about what those two have going on.

My mother has not exactly been the traditional-marriage-type of woman. In the space of three, I mean, three and a half years now, she has been proposed to ten times, engaged at least five times, and married three times. So this isn't a new scenario of some man in a suit and loafers has walked into the room and introduced himself as my new father.

At least this one is age-appropriate.

Before she graduated to dating CEO's and, apparently, politicians, she went through a phase. Honestly, it was fun for me as a kid because most of them gave me access to torture them a little. The one that still lives rent free in my head was some guy, I think he was in his early twenties, he looked more like he had just reached his late teens. I bashed a car on him when he was on his bike the day after he told me he hoped to be a 'real father figure' to me. I swear, it was funny when I did it but my mum didn't buy into my sense of humor.

She dropped me off at a mental facility for thirty days, where I got to talk to all the nurses and doctors and I gave them stories of why I was acting out because I wasn't shown enough love as a baby, how I wasn't breastfed enough and stories that could make me sleep for years. What can I say? I'm just a little boy who wants a hug. They weren't of much help though as they couldn't find a reasonable reason to keep me in their facility. Stella married the douchebag eighteen looking guy, but it only lasted a week.

So you see why my mother's marriage drama is old news. I don't give a shit about whatever the hell is going on between her and the Governor. It might not last.

I'm still on edge because of Little-Miss-Yale. I haven't been able to get Dahlia out of my fucking head since that night. Yeah, that night it all happened. I thought I was done with her, until my mother practically kidnapped me today and forced me on a flight to DC, announcing that she's getting engaged and that I have to meet her new boo.

Like she couldn't have announced this three days ago when we were all at the graduation ceremony? Or told me over the weekend, back at the apartment in New York? Leave it to dear old Stella to keep everything a secret. The only reason I agreed to get on the flight at all was because she had first class tickets and there would be good alcohol on the plane to drink and ignore her – which I did.

Like I said, Stella getting married is old news. So imagine my surprise when she finally springs the name of the lucky guy on me as we're driving away from the airport. I'm slouched in the front seat texting on my phone when she says it, so I almost miss the last name. Peterson. Dahlia's fucking father. I can't believe my ears.

"Governor Peterson?" I ask turning to meet my mother's giddy eyes.

"Yes, I'm sure you know his daughter. She's in your class ," she says, looking at me nervously. She chews on her fingernails; I want to tell her it makes her look like a damn twelve-year-old girl but I never do. "Is that, like, completely weird? It's not weird, is it?"

"Sure, Stella," I say, my tone condescending. I'm trying to be nonchalant despite the way my heart is pounding.

"It's no big fucking deal, you getting engaged to the father of someone I go to school with. Why not just date one of the teachers? Better yet, I could just find you one of my friends. That's more your style, isn't it? I thought you liked them young, but we're going for Governors now, are we?"

She glares at me, her eyes flashing. "You're not going to ruin this for me, David."

I don't look up from my phone, going through the motions of texting even though I'm not actually talking to anyone. All I can think about is that it's Dahlia's father.

Which means she's bringing me to meet Dahlia's father.

Which means we're headed to see Dahlia.

Little Miss Perfect, too-good-for-her-own-good, going-to-Yale Dahlia. Giant-stick-up-her-ass Dahlia. Barely-cracks-a-smile Dahlia. Pretty-without-makeup Dahlia. All business, all the time.

Except that night.