Hillary is a seventeen-year-old senior at Ashford High School. She comes from a home with an absent father and a drug-using mother. Being at the center for the past two weeks, I noticed that she wears the same three outfits on a regular basis and it’s not often she looks like she’s showered. She comes to the center to bathe and get a good meal. She attends the art program three times a week and wants to become a doctor when she’s older. When I asked her why she chose that profession, she said she wanted to use drugs for good purposes. It broke my heart but also filled it with hope because this child, who struggles on a daily basis because the adults in her world are failing, still has the ambition and will to become something great.
“Are you sure? They aren’t too plain for you fancy chicks?” Trying to play it cool.
“Oh Emm Gee, Ms. C., they are gorge!”
Hillary, along with the flock of teenagers, rummages through the racks of designer gowns that were brought in by Joann’s dress boutique. My smile is impossible to hide as I watch all these girls laugh and parade around trying on dress after dress.
“What do you think of this one, Ms. C?” Hillary holds up a glittery pink gown.
“I think that would look perfect on you, go try it on.”
She smiles and then she’s off. I take this opportunity to excuse myself. I want to go check on the boys. Ian has them all in the gym getting sorted for suits and tuxes.
I make a pit stop at the bathroom.
This feeling inside, it’s strange, but good. It feels homely, content. I pull my phone from my back pocket and search for my missed calls. Easy to spot since there are a bunch from this number. I’m gonna do it. No more doubts. I’m about to press my finger on B&B Sterling when the bathroom door slams open.
Startled, I look up to see Amber walking in to lean against the counter.
“Enjoying yourself?” she starts in on me.
“Excuse me?”
“I said, are you enjoying yourself? Pretending that this is all going to work out for you in the end?”
I take a step forward. “You wanna get to the point here, Amber?”
“This town wasn’t good for you before. And it’s not good for you now. You don’t belong here. Giving these kids false hope that they can all grow up and have fancy things like you.”
My temper is quickly rising. I take another hefty step forward. “I suggest you rethink your intentions here. Because you do not scare me. And if you even think about pushing me, I will shove back. So, you wanna finish your rant that means nothing to me so I can get back to what I was doing?”
“You think you can just come back here and act like nothing has happened. You think that Ian will really forgive you? You ruined him when you left. Who do you think was here helping him pick up the pieces?”
I debate on swinging at her.
“Well, it was me,” she spits out. “Go home, Chrissy. Do what’s right for the little girl and leave her with the only other family she knows.”
I want to punch her face in. But her statement sadly stings too bad to lift my arm. I suck in a breath of air, reeling in the hard truth. Ian is her family too. And I haven’t even thought twice about what uprooting Pippa’s life and taking her back to California with me would do to her.
I take one last step forward until I am practically nose-to-nose with Amber. “You know what, Amber? You are and have always been a bitter bitch. I don’t care what you think or how you perceive me. Because at the end of the day, whether I’m here or not, Ian will never be yours. He will always love me. You aren’t nor have you ever been on his radar.” I see the sting in her eyes so I continue, “And I may not belong here, but by God, if I leave, it certainly isn’t going to be because you told me to. Now you need to get your nappy ass out of my face before I decide that you would look better with a missing patch of hair on your head.”
She blanches and steps back.
I sidestep her and head toward the door. Before I leave, I turn back. “And for the record, I am not that little girl you were able to pick on back in high school. This time, I will fight back. Trust me.”
I turn to walk out but I’m not done. I swing back around. “And lastly, you mention Pippa ever again to me, or Ian, and I will make sure you are wearing a wig for all eternity by the time I’m done with you.”
She gasps while touching her bleached head.
Then, I finally turn around and walk out.
I’m fuming. At her or myself, I am not sure. She is the walking definition of bitch. She also said some things that I cannot swipe out of my brain. She helped Ian when he was hurting. In the whole time I’ve been home, I still don’t know if Ian has forgiven me for what I did. Does he still hold it against me? And her comment about me taking Pippa. He is her family. But so am I. What was I even thinking? How could I just rip her away from her life and drag her back into my world, a place where she would feel so lost?
Amber’s words have intensified my insecurities. My quick decision to stay was based on love, but not forgiveness. Does Ian truly forgive me?
I stand just outside the gym doors as I watch Ian assist Jeremiah into a suit jacket. There’s pure happiness on Ian’s face as he watches the boys act all tough but gush over getting dressed up. He notices me in the doorway and turns. His smile is filled with appreciation as he mouths thank you.
I offer him a kind smile in return. I let the love pouring through his eyes push down my now overflowing amount of doubts.
“Hey Ms. C., what do you think?” Hillary breaks into my internal debate. I turn toward her and she is there in front of me, twirling in the pink gown.
“Do you think I look pretty in it? Like I would possibly get noticed in it?”
I force the confrontation with Amber to the back of my mind. I focus on Hillary and offer her a genuine smile. “Hillary, are you asking me if you look perfect in it? Or if someone in particular will notice just how perfect you look?” I throw the line out there. I know she has been crushing on Greg for some time now. I watch them in art class and it reminds me of when I was that young, flirting and blushing at all the little things Ian would say to me.
Totally hooking her, I watch as Hillary blushes. “Well, it’s just that—”
“No need to explain, honey. I think if anyone doesn’t notice how bright and beautiful you are, then they are simply blind.”
I have no time to prepare before Hillary jumps forward and wraps her arms around my waist.
“Thank you,” she whispers while holding on tight.
I feel my chest tighten. “You’re welcome, sweetie. You deserve it.”
Slowly, I put my arms around her and return the affection.
Eventually, we separate, our eyes a bit glassy.
“I’m glad you’re here, Ms. C. I think Mr. W. is too. He seems a lot happier since you’ve been here. I can tell.”
I don’t reply to that. I can’t. I am on the verge of crying at her kindness, finding Amber and kicking her ass, and then tackling Ian. I smile and nod. I watch her turn and frolic again with the other girls.
I notice that I’m still holding my phone. Opportunity missed. I place my phone back in my pocket. I can’t dismiss my uncertainties, but I shouldn’t doubt Ian.
With the weekend nearing, I make a mental note to call on Monday.
I will definitely call Monday.
BACK IN CALIFORNIA, LEXI and I have a Sunday Ritual. It is something important for us as friends to take part in every week, no matter the circumstances. It’s a special day where we spend quality girl time, even though we spend Saturday nights together and well, all week since we technically do work together. A long, long time ago, we defined this ritual and it’s bloomed into a worldwide phenom. We call it Sunday Funday. I’m sure you’ve heard of it. I’m still fighting on the copyrights from Wikipedia on that one.
So every Sunday, hungover or not, we get together. And we SF it up. I wouldn’t ping myself to be a puker, but I’ll admit to spending a few nights here and there with the porcelain ri
ng around my head. Those are the most important Sundays. Those are days when your bestie picks you up and takes you on a Bloody Mary bar crawl until you have color back in your cheeks and you’re back to talking obscenities about the preference for male body hair or how size does matter.
It’s a beautiful moment shared between two best friends.
So with that said, you can imagine how grumpy poor Lexi is, going on three weeks with no SF buddy. It’s currently naptime and Ian and I are crashed on the couch while he watches some sort of sports game and I read a book on my iPad.
Ian’s lying behind me shirtless, and while I play little spoon, I’m actually getting jealous of my back, which gets to brush up against his yummy bare chest. If you wonder why he’s shirtless, well, it’s for a reason.
When you starve a man for so long of the only meal he craves, and he finally gets a taste of that delicacy, it seems only to intensify the want and need for that temptation. And I’m his temptation. I do him no favors during breakfast with my roaming hand under the table nor during morning cartoons when I brush my finger seductively across my collarbone. My claim that it was a bit hot in the house, then taking off my sweater to sit in my tight tank top was probably the last straw for a very tense and frustrated-looking Ian.
I wasn’t shocked either when he finally snapped and proposed an insane amount of sugar to Pippa to take a nap. When she began to argue, he gave me the look of ‘help or pay,’ so I assisted in swaying her into a book rally before nap, and she was off into her room. A girl and her fairy tales. Works every time.
It took over thirty minutes to comatose her, so the second I stepped foot out of her room, Ian grabbed me, threw me into the laundry room and slammed the door with his foot. His mouth consumed mine instantly and it was like sparks going off on the Fourth of July. Get a man all heated and be prepared for him to eventually go off. And to make it even more enticing, when you have a man who can’t even make it to a bedroom to ravish you, you know you’re in for some hot and crazy sex.
Meow.
With both hands around my cheeks, he lifted me up, my legs eagerly wrapping around his waist as he placed me onto the washer. “I don’t know whether to fuck you or eat your pussy. I’m so fucking hungry for you right now.”
“Are you dirty talking me right now, Mr. Whitman?” I bantered as he sucked on my neck.
“Oh, I’m going to do more than just dirty talk you, Ms. Daniels. I’m probably going to have to cover that sweet mouth of yours so your little screams of pleasure don’t wake the beast and ruin playtime.”
I had nothing more to say, because who would. He ate and fucked, while I screamed into his hand, then more into his shirt that he ended up taking off because it can get pretty sweaty in a narrow laundry room. The poor shirt had to be discarded because it was drenched with sweat, my saliva, and possibly had bite holes.
This brings us back to the present. Both completely sated, and having some nice R&R on a lovely Sunday afternoon. I’m just about to get to the good part of my book when I see the shadow on my screen.
“‘ . . . as he thrusts his muscled cock into her mouth . . . ’ What in the hell are you reading?” Ian questions from behind me. His grabs for my iPad but I block his view.
“Hey, back off, pal.”
“Not a chance. What are you reading? Porn?” He goes for a steal again and fails.
“Porn? What? No, this is just something I picked up. Not sure what it is.” Total lie. It’s only my favorite erotic romance series that I’m reading for like the billionth time.
“That’s porn. He was about to mouth fuck her.” My mouth drops at his vulgar comment and when I turn to gawk at him, he takes his chance and snatches it right from my grip.
“Hey!”
“ . . . into her mouth as he grips her hair violently, tears streaming down her face. She wants—” He can’t even finish reading he’s laughing so hard. “Who’s the dirty bird now, huh?” He smirks at me.
“Give it back, Ian.”
“Man, I must not have done a proper job earlier if you still have to read this porn book. Should we see what trouble we can get into in the hall closet?” He smirks, eyeing me with a forty/sixty expression. That’s forty percent joking and sixty percent dead serious.
“Give it back.”
“No way, maybe I should continue reading this to see what you like. Get some pointers.” I have to be so flushed right now it’s impossible not to react. I’ve never been into crazy heavy shit but to reenact some of those scenes with Ian would—holy cow—be amazing. He watches as my eyes dilate at the fantasy and laughs. “You little minx, you.” He lifts my device above my head so I can’t swat at it and attempts to continue reading. Thankfully, the book disappears because a FaceTime call comes through, interrupting this very embarrassing but hot story time.
“Huh, who’s the, uh, special person you have calling you?” He doesn’t need to show me for me to know it’s Lexi. The photo I have saved of her was from Fat Tuesday this past year. Lexi was, shall we say, way over-served and was giving me the infamous tongue between the fingers gesture.
“Give me that,” I demand, waving my arms above the impossible reach of my gadget.
“Nope. I got this one.” With that, he swipes the bar and takes the call. I can’t see but I hear the familiar noise of the FaceTime call being connected and the video activating.
“Hey skank—holy shit, who are you?”
He chuckles at this greeting. “Hello there, you must be Lexi, I presume?” he asks and I hear her moan.
She did not just moan.
“Damn, I will be whoever you want me to be. Did I dial the wrong number?” I hear shuffling most likely because she’s searching for her contact list. I’m guessing from the time that she’s well into SF and there’s no way she’ll find that list.
“Wait . . . wait . . . oh, I know you! You’re the ex. The no-shirt-on ex. So hot.”
“Okay, enough, give me that!” I say.
“No way! Don’t put her on. You’re just fine to look at,” I hear Lexi sing. “So, Hottie Ex. Why no shirt? Is my friend in the same shape?” she asks and Ian blesses us both with his glorious laugh that will melt any women’s heart—or panties.
“I think I just soaked my thong at the sound that just came out of your mouth H.E.”
“Oh, my GOD! Shut up, Lexi! And you!” pointing to Ian, “You hand it over or I swear the only thing you’ll eat is in the form of processed foods, if you catch my drift.”
“She’s all talk, buddy, don’t worry about her.”
“I don’t know, Lexi, she looks pretty serious right now.” He winks at me.
“All talk, no bite, Hottie.” As Ian debates that comment, I know he is also envisioning me biting. And duh, that would also be superhot.
“Seriously? Are you two like eye fucking right now? Hey!” she yells through the iPad. “Hey! Focus! I need to know, Hottie Ex, do you have a brother?”
Oh, God.
“It’s Ian, and no brother, Lexi, sorry,” he states, not taking his eyes off mine.
“Okay, well, what’s your last name? You can never be too sure. There’s this site that can actually tell me if you have any living relatives, hopefully a long-lost twin brother.”
“Give me the iPad, Ian,” I state. “My threat stands. Think about it.”
Ian chuckles, but then gets that look like I might be serious, so he quickly hands over the pad. I sit up, Ian following suit behind me, and place the device in front of me to see Lexi with a very tall Bloody Mary in front of her.
“Dude. Awwwwwwwww,” she wails into the phone.
“Seriously, what’s wrong with you?” I take in her appearance. “And how much have you had to drink?” I note her disheveled hair and the stacked up empties on the table.
“Well, I’m drinking for two since your ass totally ditched me, so back off. And I’m awwwing because you two look sooooooo cute!” she hums. Ian wraps his arms around my waist and lays his head on my shoulder to get a bet
ter view of the screen.
“Ian . . . Iaaan. Oh, Ian. Ian. Ian. Ian—”
“Dude, now what’s wrong with you?” I ask. It’s like she’s malfunctioning or something.
“Oh, nothing. I’m just testing out his name. I like it. I’d moan that shit. Totally moanable.”
This is not happening right now.
“Oh, she moans it just right.” That’s Ian, and his comment is mumbled into my shoulder while he flicks his tongue onto my bare skin.
“Oh, would you stop egging her on please.” I turn to scold him. His beautiful greens are singing with mischief and I have a feeling that closet challenge will be tested once we end this call.
“Hey, Lex, I have to go, I’ll call you later.”
“What? Wait! Fuck no! Don’t get off with me just leave it on!” Perv.
“Hey, I’ll call you later. Okay?”
“Noooo—”
“Who are you talking to?” We both turn to see Pippa standing at the end of the couch rubbing her eyes. Ian, realizing he’s holding me a bit too intimately, releases me quickly to sit up straight on the couch.
“Oh, hey, honey. Um, we’re just talking to my friend, Lexi.”
She looks intrigued so she walks over and climbs onto my lap. I pull the pad away from my face so she can get a good look at the screen. “Watch your mouth, Lexi,” I warn her before she even has a chance to talk.
“Are you a pwincess?” Pippa chirps out.
“Phsst duh, who isn’t, you cute little creature.” Lexi beams.
“What are you drinking?”
“Fairy juice.”
“What does fairy juice do?”
“Gives me power to find a prince?”
“And will he take you to his castle when he finds you?”
“God, I hope so . . .” she starts to slur.
“Okaaay! We’re done here. Say bye to Lexi.”
“Bye bye, Wexi,” Pippa says and bounces off my lap, disappearing into the kitchen.
“Awww, I love your new life, what does your neighbor look like?”
“Geez, I don’t know.” I fight the chuckle.
My So Called Life (Love Not Included Series Book 3) Page 18
