Instantly I hated the woman. Her perfectly shiny hair, bronzed skin, and a body I would die for made me so angry, and I’m still not a hundred percent sure why. Was it because he just lost my mom and here he was fucking another woman? Maybe he was always fucking her. Or was it the fact that a sliver of jealousy ran through me at the sight of her wrapped around him? I’d hoped that maybe that man wasn’t my step-dad, but maybe his son or a coworker. That hope crashed and burned moments later, leaving me with an uneasy feeling.
I’m jealous that my step-dad has a woman he’s about to fuck and probably fucked last night. Fuck, if they came back to his place after, she might be here this morning. The worst part is I don’t think I’m angry for my mother, I think I’m jealous for myself.
I’m chalking it up to being lonely. I guess I’m just desperate for attention. Yep, that’s it, I think, trying to convince myself that’s not a blatant lie. I can’t lust after my mother’s husband. Nope, I’ve just been stuck in an all-girls’ school for too long. I’ve been starved of affection. Yes! That’s it, I’m envious of the affection that was being shared, not the dumb slut who was hanging onto him.
I clench my teeth, processing the rude thought I had about the woman. Fuck it, she is a dumb slut. I can think it all I want. Grabbing my hair tie off the nightstand, I pull my wild blonde hair into a messy bun on top of my head, and make my way through the condo to the kitchen. If I’m lucky, I won’t run into Bruce or his date from last night. The thought puts a knot into my stomach. Would they be in the kitchen playing house together? Her making him breakfast like a happy lovey couple. I long for something like that.
I’m about to walk into the kitchen, when I hear Bruce’s deep voice, and I halt my movements.
“No, we can’t have dinner again tonight.” He pauses for a long moment, and I realize he must be on the phone. “She’ll only be here for a few weeks, and I’m getting her out of here as quick as I can. Trust me, I don’t need a little girl running around here, you and I both know I don’t have time for that.”
His words sting more than they should. Why should I care that he doesn’t want me here? Story of my life. Fuck him. If he didn’t want to have to deal with me then maybe he shouldn’t have married my mom.
I stroll into the kitchen, ignoring him, determined to let the insult roll off my back. I hear him take a deep breath, and I can feel his eyes on me, but I pretend he’s not standing there, drinking his coffee, with the phone to his ear. I feel a small weight lift off my shoulders when I realize no one else is here. She didn’t stay over. Pulling the fridge open, I feel the cold air hit my body, and it’s then I realize what I’m wearing, or more accurately, what I’m not wearing. I’m so used to only being around and living with other girls that I didn’t think about my attire when I rolled out of bed this morning. I feel my nipples contract against the cold air, the threadbare strappy tank doing nothing to protect them from the chill. Goosebumps break out all over my bare legs.
Fucking shit. How am I going to turn around? I’m standing in front of the fridge in nothing but a small tank top, tiny white panties, and my freaking knee-high socks.
“No, Holly, lunch is fine.”
I bite back nausea at the mention of Holly’s name.
“Okay, I’ll see you then.”
I hear his phone hit the granite counter and I cringe at the sound. I’d be surprised if it hasn’t cracked.
“Where the fuck are your pants?” Glancing over my shoulder, I see his dark green eyes on my ass. Does he like what he sees? I’m nothing like Holly. In fact, Holly and I are night and day if you compare us, and sadly I have. Where she is toned and firm, I’m curvy and soft, she looks enticing whereas I look boring and couldn’t get a tan to save my life. Her legs go on for miles, and the only thing that goes on for miles on me is my hair, and it’s pretty uncontrollable.
He looks so mad. If he could he’d spit fire from his nostrils right about now, he would. The fact that I provoked this much emotion in him is exciting.
This is uncharted territory for both of us. I can tell by the look on his face that poking him would be dangerous. But for the first time in weeks, I feel something. I don’t ever recall pulling this much emotion from anyone. I was just always there, the girl in the corner. Now I am standing in a kitchen, with a man who looks wildly pissed at me, and I want more. It wouldn't bring the tears I wanted moments ago, but it felt like it could bring so much more.