I was still in shock, staring at all that chaos, until some boys finally pulled the fight apart. I managed to react at last and shouted, "Adam, let's go outside!"
My dad had arrived. Emma, Adam, and I rushed out. Adam was hurt, but Brandon was too; his eye was bruised and his mouth was bleeding. Emma tried to clean Adam's injuries, but it didn't work very well.
"If we can get into the room without Mr. Hollis seeing, we're good," I said. "I'll put some makeup on you and it'll look brand-new."
On the way, all I could do was pray that my dad wouldn't notice. Luckily, he didn't, since I returned sitting in the front seat. But when we got home, Adam slipped inside quickly, and my dad, suspicious, went after him.
Adam started up the stairs, and my dad shouted, "Adam, get back here now!"
Adam froze. I looked at Emma, and she looked back at me; we were both anxious.
When Adam turned around, my dad asked, "What is this? Did you get into a fight?"
"It was Brandon," Adam said. "He tried to grab Mia, so I defended her."
My dad was furious."Is that true, Mia?"
"I… I don't know," I stammered. "He was pulling me to dance and asked for a kiss."
"Is he still at the party?" my dad continued.
"Yes," I answered.
"Upstairs, all three of you. Adam, wash your face and put some ice on it."
Emma and I went to my room. Chad called me, but I didn't have the courage to tell him what had happened. That night, I fell asleep feeling sick with worry.
The next morning, when we came down for breakfast, my dad said, "Mia, change your clothes. We're leaving right now."
I obeyed; he was visibly tense.
We got into the car, and he didn't say a single word during the drive. When we arrived, it was a big house. We went in, and I came face-to-face with Mr. Jackson, Brandon's father.
"It's a pleasure to see you," he said.
"My only regret is that I can't say the same," my dad replied.
Then my dad explained everything that had happened. Mr. Jackson called his son, who came down still in his pajamas. When he saw us, he went pale.
"If you ever go near my daughter again, you'll be dealing with the police!" my dad shouted. "I'm only not reporting you because your father is my friend, but if this happens again, I won't think twice."
"Mr. Hollis…" Brandon started.
"Shut up!" my dad barked. "Are we clear?"
My dad grabbed my arm and we were about to leave when chaos erupted: Chad burst into the house after Brandon.
"Mr. Jackson, I told him to wait!" the maid cried.
Chad went at Brandon with everything he had, landing several punches. I started yelling at him to stop.
"Don't ever go near Bella again!" Chad shouted.
Mr. Jackson tried to separate them, but I looked at my dad, silently begging for help. He watched for several long seconds, almost looking satisfied.
Finally, I screamed, "Dad, help!"
He stepped in, pulled Chad back, and said, "That's enough, kid. Let's go."
"This isn't over, you delinquent!" Brandon shouted after us.
We left: my dad, Chad, and me.
On the way, I asked, "Who told you?"
Chad replied, "I figured… of course it was Adam. And they say women are the gossipy ones."
My dad asked, curious, "Chad, why did you do that?"
Chad looked at me and answered nervously, "Mr. Luck, I like Mia, and I'm always going to protect her."
My dad nodded. "I know. Chad, I've known your mother for a long time. She also knew my brother before he passed away. And when I went to the company in Virginia, that's where I met Cami and stayed."
Chad and I were both surprised.
"I expect you for dinner tonight at our house," my dad said.
Chad smiled. "I don't know if she can."
"She can," my dad replied. "Tell her I'm Alex's brother."
Chad smiled again.
My dad got into the car and said, "Eight o'clock. Let's go, Mia."
"Oh, and this is a family dinner for Mia's new friend," he added.
"Yes, sir," Chad replied.
I got into the car and leaned back, staring out the window as the city slid by slowly. During the ride, I couldn't get one question out of my mind: would my dad finally allow Chad and me to date? A mix of hope and fear tangled inside me, tightening my chest.
I watched his enigmatic expression in the rearview mirror. His eyes reflected something I still couldn't understand. There was a hint of satisfaction, as if he were proud of Chad's attitude in defending me, but there was also a shadow of reflection, a weight he seemed to carry silently. It felt as though each of his decisions weighed as heavily as the responsibility I felt over my own feelings.
I sighed, trying to gather my thoughts. Chad lingered constantly in my mind sweet and confident but I knew nothing could happen while my dad wasn't fully comfortable with the idea. And as much as I wanted to believe he understood my heart, that unreadable expression reminded me that there were still barriers, that every choice I made would be watched and judged.
The car drove on in silence, and every red light, every turn, seemed to match the rhythm of my anxiety. A small smile slipped from my lips maybe he noticed my effort, maybe he finally understood that my feelings were real. But deep down, I knew I still had to prove that I deserved this, that Chad and I deserved this.
And in that moment, I realized: the wait would be hard, and every second spent watching my father was a reminder that growing up also meant facing decisions, fears, and feelings that—no matter how confusing needed to be lived.