"Violette?" Dad knocks gently on the door, afraid of what he'll find inside. I look down at myself, pulling my short silky black bathrobe tighter around my chest.

"Yes, Daddy?" I call. I look around my room to make sure nothing compromising is sticking out - Alex had hidden some cigarettes in one of my desk drawers, but it was closed.

Dad peeks his head through the doorframe.

"Oh," His eyes shift to Alex's naked form. He's sleeping on his stomach, and the sheets are pooled around his knees. "I didn't realize you had company,"

"What do you want, Dad?" I gather my hair from my back and let it fall down my chest, hiding any breast that may be exposed.

"Well, I just wanted to say goodbye to you before I go to work," He leaned against the doorframe.

"Why?" I immediately feel bad, but it's all I can do to stay in character as the alienated daughter who never really got over her mother's death. I thought back to before all of this happened, before

"Why are you here?" He lowers his eyebrows and frowns.

"Do I need an excuse to talk to my daughter?" I turn away from him, looking instead at the dead ends of my hair.

"Usually, yes," I mumble. I hear him sigh. I turn back and his mouth is open as if he was about to say something. He changes his mind and leaves.

I look down at myself. My robe falls in rich folds around my elbows. I look back at Alex. His blonde curls are saturated with light. His skin has a healthy glow to it and his lips are soft and warm. I slap his bare ass and get off the bed.

"Come on, we're gonna be late," I slowly pull the bathrobe and pull on a black turtleneck.

"Huh?" He slowly rises, resting on his elbows.

"For the play you wanted to take me to?" I step into a pale pink miniskirt and open my closet, pulling out my white Adidas with the matching pink stripes. I slip a pale pink scrunchie on my wrist and toss him the matching sweater he was wearing earlier. He slips it on and then tucks it into his acid washed jeans. He pulls on his battered Vans and runs his fingers through his gold curls.

"What was it called again?" He grabs his phone and car keys and turns to me.

"I don't know," I shrug, "it's being performed at your school, shouldn't you know?" He merely lifts one shoulder and leaves the room.