He really does know how to own the English language.
The two of us got dressed, then he ushered me out of his room. With his hand on the small of my back, he guided me down the stairs, making a beeline straight for the front door. I knew why, too. Neither of us were sure whether or not his father was home. I mean, surely he’d be at work so close to lunch on a Monday. But things were always unpredictable. Schedules changed at the drop of a hat. Vacations got canceled at the last minute due to work. And sometimes, parents came home for lunch instead of eating out.
Clint reached for the doorknob. “I’ll drop you off at the front curb on the road before I park behind the school.”
I paused. “So we aren’t walking in together?”
“Do you want to?”
“Does it matter?”
The two of us froze as his father’s heavy voice sounded behind us. I slowly turned around, watching as Clint stepped in front of me. He reached behind me, slowly backing me toward the door. And as he opened it, I felt the heat of the day beat against my back.
I didn’t let go of his leather jacket, though. He had to come with me. He was my ride.
Clint cleared his throat. “Morning, Dad.”
“Who the fuck is that?” he asked gruffly.
“Hi. I’m—”
Clint cut me off. “None of your damn business.”
His father narrowed his eyes. “You wanna try that again?”
“No. I really don’t.”
I drew in a sharp breath. “Clint, come on. We’re gonna be late.”
“Did she just come down from upstairs?”
Clint nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“And is that fucking allowed in this house?”
“Probably not, sir.”
His father charged him and I cried out. Clint shoved his ass out, knocking me outside before his father gripped his leather jacket. I reached out for him, watching as his father picked him up onto his tippy toes. And as his father barreled him back into the wall, I cupped my hands over my cheeks.
“I’m sick and tired of you thinking you run this house. Shut the damn door,” he glowered.
I whimpered. “Clint.”
He peeked back at me with nothing but sadness in his eyes. And as his hand reached out for the door, he nodded his head.
“Get outta here, Rae. Sorry for making you late and not being able to give you a ride.”
“Mr. Clarke, this is all my fault. We just need to get to school. This won’t happen again, I swear it. Please, Mr. Clarke.”
His father gnashed his teeth at me. “Shut the hell up and get off my property.”
Clint growled. “You talk to her like that again and you’ll have to deal with me.”
His father chuckled. “And you think you’re what? Hot stuff? Because you can screw some poor girl from your high school in your own bed? You think that makes you hot stuff?”
And as Clint slammed the front door closed, I heard a resounding smack.
“No!” I exclaimed.