Sweet girl

by Quell T Fox

  But this… this is more.

  No, no it isn’t. But I wish...

  He pulls away, the smile still on his face and I force one of my own, hoping it looks genuine. I ignore the fact my belly is on fire, my palms are sweating, and my pussy is throbbing… If I focus on all of these things, I might do something I'll regret later on… maybe.

  “Where’s Mom?” I ask as we walk towards the exit, side by side. I try to act as normal as possible, gripping onto my suitcase handle and wheeling it beside me. I need to have control. I prepared myself for this, knowing it wouldn’t be easy but… it has to be this way. This man is off-limits, as much as I want him, I can’t do that to my mother.

  “Called into work. Are you surprised?” He looks to me with a smile, his dimple on full display. I have such a soft spot for dimples, or maybe my soft spot is him. “Would you like me to take your bag?” He gestures towards it with his eyes.

  I'm not surprised about my mother at all. I’d only hoped with her begging me to come home that she’d have taken a day or two off.

  I shake my head in regards to my suitcase. “Nothing changes.”

  We enter the parking lot and when he walks to a car I don’t recognize, I hesitate, not entirely sure where to go. I look around at the other cars but don’t see anything that looks familiar. “New car?” I ask.

  “Yep, you like? I got her a month ago,” he tells me, his eyes catching mine. It was something that took me a long time to get used to, but Jonathan is the kind of person who looks into your eyes when he speaks to you. I don’t know much about cars, but I see it’s a BMW and know it must be good because I’ve heard the name. It must have been expensive. It’s definitely on the fancier end, which is much different than the truck he used to have. I admit, the truck was sexy… but this is too. Just in a different way.

  “It’s nice. Very… shiny,” I nod. Though I couldn’t care less about the car, honestly.

  He huffs out a laugh before opening the trunk, and picks up my suitcase. My eyes fall to his arms and how the muscles strain against his light gray T-shirt. He drops my things in, then walks around and opens the door for me. My heart picks up at the gesture.

  He’s just being nice.

  I need to stop overthinking these normal gestures, need to stop reading into every single thing he does.

  Jonathan has never done anything to make me believe he feels the same way I do. It’s one thing that made it easier to push the thoughts of us being together from my mind. This obsession is one-sided. To him, I’m just a kid. His fiancée’s daughter. His future stepdaughter. He doesn’t look at me like someone he’d want to devour beneath the sheets of his king-sized bed. He doesn’t want to press me up against the cold tile of the shower and fuck me from behind. As much as I think of his cock, I know it’s all one big fantasy. One I should get over quickly. The more I realize how ridiculous this situation is, the more worried I become about my mental health.

  This is not healthy.

  He doesn’t see me the way I do him. This is just a crush from a girl on an older man that has turned into an obsession. It’s not unheard of, but I have to keep telling myself this because it’s what keeps me from acting out what I really want to do. I don’t want to cause a ripple in their lives over a fantasy that I’m harboring. That’s just not fair of me to do.

  The fact that he’s my mom’s boyfriend should be enough to stop me, but deep down I know it isn’t. I’m selfish. I’m stubborn. And in those ways, I’m just like my mother. The fear of him rejecting me, of my mother finding out, those are what keeps my mouth zipped. Of him thinking I’m crazy, or disgusting for thinking he would want to be with someone who is practically family. My mother and I aren’t close… but I don’t want to hurt her. If she found out… I don’t even want to think of it. But if he felt the same way, we could at least… I don’t know, hide it?

  Yeah, because her not finding out means it won’t hurt, right, Charlotte?

  Lying makes everything okay, doesn’t it?

  I realize he’s talking and I snap out of my thoughts.

  “Sorry, what was that?” I ask, turning my attention towards him. My eyes go to his shoulders and how his short sleeved shirt grips his body. I follow the curve of muscles in his biceps, down to his large forearms and settle on his fingers that are gripped around the steering wheel. The thought of him running them over me and—

  “—that your room is ready. Your mom’s been cleaning it for the last week. It somehow turned into a storage room, but she didn’t get rid of any of your things.”

  “Oh, that’s nice,” is all I manage to say. I watch as his jaw clenches and I think my lack of conversation has upset him. I pull out my phone and send a text to Izzy, my best friend.

  Me: Make it home okay?

  She answers almost immediately, which doesn’t entirely surprise me. The girl is glued to her phone.

  Izzy: Unfortunately. Is the summer over yet?

  She was in no way happy about going home. The only thing that kept her sane was having Ivan—her boyfriend since middle school—with her. She didn’t come from a good home or family and was happy to escape to school, thankful for the full ride she got on a scholarship over a paper she wrote. Something she can only hope happens for her little sister, Julie, but she says Julie struggles in school and she’s worried she’ll be stuck there. Ivan wanted to go back to visit with their families, so she agreed. Also knowing she would see her sister helped because she wasn’t sure, as she got older, the kind of people she would fall in with. She has a feeling Julie will follow in their mother’s footsteps and it breaks her heart. Their mother is caught up in drugs and bad people. That isn’t the kind of life she wants for Julie.

  We pull up in front of the house after a short while, and Jonathan pulls into the driveway. The house looks exactly the same with its dirty white vinyl siding, black shutters, and half dead plants hanging by the door. My mother always had good intentions with plants, but unfortunately, they need to be taken care of and she’d always forget about them. I tried to care for them when I was home, as did Jonathan, but it seems neither of us do well with them. We get out of the car and I stretch my arms above my head, suddenly feeling tired and in need of a nap.

  “Your mom won’t be home until late tonight,” he says, pulling my suitcase from the trunk. I wonder why he’s telling me that.

  Obviously because she’s my mom and he’s just letting me know. That’s all. Stop reading into it, Charlie!

  I take my suitcase from him and head upstairs into my old room. It looks exactly as it did when I left a year ago. The same light blue spread and band posters on the walls. All of my books are still tucked away on my shelf. Photos hang on the corkboard of friends I had in high school who I no longer talk to. It’s true what they say, about losing friends after high school. I haven’t kept in touch with any of them. I’ve been busy and I suppose they have too. I think most of them opted to leave this town for out of state schools, the same as me.

  I lie down on my bed, excited about getting a break from the twin-sized one at school. I intend to use every inch of this queen-sized mattress.

  I’m mentally exhausted—and sexually frustrated—over spending so much time in close proximity to Jonathan. It isn’t easy to act normal around him. I had hoped after being away from him for so long I’d forget how I felt. That my fantasies were just that, fantasies. Something I held onto because it was all I had. That my mind wasn’t wanting him, just what I’ve turned him into: the perfect man.

  I’d somehow molded him into someone who has not one single flaw, using my thoughts of him for what I want for my future. Like a muse. I’d thought to myself many times he can’t be as perfect as I think he is. Clearly, I’m remembering him all wrong. People aren’t perfect, not how I think he is. I’d hoped I’d outgrown him, that seeing him would give me a sense of disappointment, that he isn’t all I made him out to be, more in love with the idea I’d come up with in my brain and not the person himself.

&n
bsp; Coming here was not what I wanted to do, for more than just one reason. The more I think about it, the more I realize it was a bad idea.

  I text Izzy back.

  Me: Same.

  Izzy: Stepdaddy problems? ;)

  Izzy is the only person in the world I have told about Jonathan. And it wasn’t by choice. We share a dorm room, which sometimes means she’s there when I have a male friend over. I’m not shy, and she isn’t a prude. She has no issues with me having a man in my bed while she’s sleeping. Most guys don’t care about it, some even enjoy it more, knowing they’re being watched or listened to.

  But when I called out the wrong name, well, that is not something guys are okay with. In fact, it gets them pretty pissy. Izzy laughed the entire time as my midnight caller gathered his things up, leaving our room in just his underwear that I’m pretty sure were on backwards.

  She forced me to tell her about the man I was thinking of, the one whose name came out of my mouth, and thanks to the bit of alcohol I’d had only a few short hours before, I spilled the beans. She’s a horrible influence on the situation and spent way too many days trying to convince me to make a move on him. She’s definitely worse than I am when it comes to morals. For her, I’m certain she has none.

  Me: No. Have fun with Ivan! Tell Julie I said hi.

  I roll over and get a face full of pillow. Ew. What is that? I take another sniff and assume these sheets haven’t been changed since I left. They smell musty and stale. I guess after all the cleaning, she forgot to change the bedding.

  I quickly pull the sheets off, stuff them into my laundry basket, and head downstairs. Nerves roll in my belly the whole way. As I reach the bottom of the stairs, I turn right and head down the hallway, passing the den and holding my breath. I let it out when I notice it’s empty. This needs to stop. I open the door to the laundry room and I’m assaulted by the thick, warm air. I drop the basket by the washer and open the few windows that are in here to let some of the fresh air inside. Once they’re all opened, I throw my sheets into the wash and start the machine. When I take a step back my heart skips a beat.

  Jonathan is now in the den, sitting in his recliner—which is in the exact same spot it has always been in. Granted, he isn’t doing anything other than staring at the TV, but the memories flood back and I’m almost knocked to my knees.

  His hand wrapped around his cock. His hips thrusting into his hand. His eyes screwed shut. His cum spurting out.

  I quickly spin around and drop to the ground, my back against the wall, knees pulled to my chest which is rising heavily as I pull in deep breaths, the windows not doing a damn thing for this thick, stale air in here. This can’t be happening. I need to stop obsessing over this. Maybe coming back here was a worse idea than I thought.

  “What are you doing?” I jerk my head at the sound of Mom’s voice. I jump up, thoughts racing as I think of an excuse. She pulls me close and wraps me in a hug. I squeeze her back. I dare to sneak a peek into the den and notice Jonathan’s gaze is on me, our eyes locking. His dark, almost knowing gaze goes straight to my soul. Mom is speaking, but I can’t hear what she’s saying. Because that’s what he does to me, makes me forget about everything else going on around me. He sucks his bottom lip between his teeth and winks before standing and exiting the room. My stomach flips. “Did you hear me?”

  “Sorry, no. What was that?” I ask mom, stepping back from her and trying to pull myself together. I shove my shaky hands into the back pockets of my shorts, attempting to radiate anything but the flustered feelings Jonathan just revived inside of me.

  “I asked what you were doing on the floor in the laundry room.” She laughs. “Are you feeling okay?”

  “Oh, that.” I smile nervously. “I thought I saw a mouse.” It’s the first thing I can think of. So cliché. It’s not like I was doing anything wrong. I know sitting on the ground is probably weird, but what the hell was I supposed to tell her? “Oh, hey. Yeah, I’m fine. I just thought Jonathan was going to wank his cock in the den like old times and I had a mini panic attack.” Yeah… that would go over well. “Why are you home so early?”

  “I’ll have Jonathan get some traps from the store,” she says, hands on her hips and looking around the room. I think maybe she didn’t hear my question, but then she speaks again. “I was able to convince someone to stay for me so I could come home and see my baby girl. Come on, we’re going out for dinner.” She wraps her arm around my waist and we walk to the kitchen. I was hoping to hide up in my room for the rest of the night. Maybe take a cold shower. Definitely needing to stay away from him at all costs. Not spend the evening with him over dinner.

  Chapter 3

  Charlotte

  Dinner was uneventful and awkward, to say the least. Mom and Jonathan barely spoke. I tried to make small talk, but neither of them seemed in the mood to speak. I also took note during dessert that mom wasn’t wearing her engagement ring. When and why did that happen? Is that why she wanted me home so badly? Is something goin on?

  They’ve been engaged basically since they met, but never set a date. Mom didn’t talk to me much about her relationship with Jonathan and I always assumed it’s because things were going well. You know, nothing to talk about. But maybe things aren’t going so great after all.

  A little flutter of hope swells in my chest but I shake it away. It doesn’t matter if they break up, he’s still off-limits. How could I tell my mom I’m dating her ex-fiancé? Not that I am or ever will be. That’s against all kinds of rules. It has to be... right?

  We don’t speak much during dinner, but now that we’re finished, with Mom and Jonathan both nursing beers, she decides she wants to chat.

  “Tell us about school, Charlie. How are classes going? Have you met any boys?”

  “Classes are good, most of them are pretty easy so far, though it’s only my first year. I’ll have a few more difficult ones coming up.” I pick up my glass of water, put the straw in my mouth, and suck. Jonathan’s eyes meet mine and I nearly choke when I find an intense heat in them.

  “Excuse me,” I say, interrupting my mother who looks as if she was just going to speak. I quickly get up from my chair and rush to the bathroom.

  These feelings are wrong. So wrong. Maybe I should have hooked up with one of the guys from school before coming back home, get rid of some sexual energy. Someone wouldn’t have been hard to find. I have a few I’ve hooked up with more than once since being away. Maybe that’s all I need to help me get by. Every single one of my sexual experiences has been about him. His dick was the first I’d ever seen. The first time I saw someone pleasing themselves, was him. The first time I touched myself, was to the thought of him. It’s like he’s my first everything without knowing it, and we all know how us girls tend to obsess over our firsts. Especially considering the guys I’ve slept with haven’t been good enough to keep my attention or push the thoughts of Jonathan away. And I realize now how pathetic that is for a nineteen-year-old girl.

  I need to find something… a distraction. Something to keep my mind busy for the summer. To keep my mind off and away from Jonathan.

  I rest my hands on the porcelain sink and take in a few deep breaths. Why was he looking at me like that? And why am I acting like this? It’s ridiculous and borderline embarrassing.

  Get your shit together, Charlie.

  “I should have stayed at school,” I mumble to myself.

  I run the cold water and put my hands under until they’re practically numb. I pat my cheeks and the back of my neck with my wet hands, hoping to calm myself down.

  I think what I need to do is find someone to hang out with while I’m here, maybe catch up with some old friends from high school. Do normal nineteen-year-old girl things.

  When I leave the bathroom and get back to the table, Jonathan and my mother are already standing, waiting to leave.

  As soon as we get home, I run to the laundry room right away, knowing I need to switch everything to the dryer if I want sheets to sleep o
n tonight. I’d like to get it done while Mom is still home so there isn’t a chance of me seeing… anything.

  When I walk down the hallway, back towards the stairs, I hear heated whispers coming from the kitchen. I pause, and strain my ears to listen.

  “She’s your daughter. You couldn’t take even one day off to spend time with her?”

  “What do you want me to do? I have bills that need to be paid.”

  “Bills will always be there, your daughter may not. I get not wanting to spend time with me, but your daughter should be more important,” Jonathan hisses. When he walks out of the kitchen, our eyes meet for the briefest moment and they’re angrier than I’ve ever seen, though I can sense it isn’t towards me. I watch as he turns and heads into the den, closing the door behind him. I start up the stairs, not wanting to deal with whatever is going on between them.

  I should have known this is the shit my mother would pull. Guilt me into coming home to spend time with her, only to never be around. Over the years, there have been promises of family vacations and one on one time. After a while, the disappointment never even had a chance to rise because her letting me down was already expected. I thought things would be different this time because I’d actually been away. It was the longest I’d ever gone without seeing my mom. My heart warms at Jonathan sticking up for me though… that is new. I’ve never heard him get involved with anything to do with me before. Always opting to allow my mother to parent how she wanted. Ya know, the NACHO method or whatever.