I really did. Covered with green paint and caught by my dad making out with Todd was not the way I imagined today would go. Not even a little. Still sleep-deprived, and judging by my behavior, deprived in other areas, I turned to greet my dad—who was so angry his face was a dark shade of red. I’d seen him upset before, but his coloring had only made it to pink. This was a new record. “Dad.” “What the hell are you doing?” he said through clenched teeth. “We were painting and tripped?” I lied a little. Yep, no older than five. He stared angrily at Todd, who stood straight and met my dad’s intimidating glare head-on. He was brave, I’d give him that. Maybe what Colin said about my dad scaring off potential dates was true. If I were Todd right now, I’d be shaking in my boots, or in his case, Nikes. What was my dad doing here anyway?
