I absolutely, totally, completely despise myself for the way I think about him these days.
Harrison isn’t a tasty treat.
He’s not something or someone I can just take or want or get.
But I do.
I want him so fucking much and it’s eating me up inside.
Shit.
“Adalee,” Frank turns his attention to me. “It seems as though you worked up quite an appetite over supper. I hope you’re applying that same attention to detail to your grades.”
So he saw how much I was eating.
Fuck.
Fuck fuck fuck.
It’s just that Margaret is such a damn good cook, and honestly, I should have been better. I should have paid more attention.
I didn’t eat dessert, though.
I’ve got that going for me.
I swallow hard.
“Yes,” I finally say. “I’ve been very careful with my grades, sir.”
He stares at me for a minute. Harrison can sense the tension between us because he looks from his dad to me and back again. He wants to know what’s going on between us. I can tell. Unfortunately, I can’t explain this to Harrison.
“I hope that’s true,” he says. “It would be unfortunate if your grades were to fall in your last year of high school.”
He looks at me pointedly and then reaches for his post-supper cup of coffee. How anyone can drink coffee this late in the day, I don’t know. I don’t say anything, though. Instead, I manage to survive as he and Harrison chit chat about sports and the weather until finally, we’re released to go to our bedrooms.
Harrison gets up to leave and I do the same. Just as I reach the door, Frank calls to me.
“Oh, Adalee?”
“Yes?” I swallow hard, turning back to him. A chill shoots through my body as I realize that he’s going to ask me something or tell me something, and no matter what it is, it’s going to be something I don’t want any part of.
“Do me a favor. Stop by my office tomorrow morning. Say around seven?”
Seven?
In the fucking morning?
I know this isn’t a request, and it’s not something casual. This means I’m going to need to be awake, showered, and fixed up before seven.
“Absolutely,” I say calmly. I just hope my voice doesn’t waver or betray my nervousness. “I’ll see you then.”
I turn and push past Harrison, who has, once again, a confused look on his face, and I scurry off to my room. I all but run up the stairs, and I’m almost to my door when I feel Harrison’s hand on my arm.
I turn around, but I don’t scream. I open my mouth to say something, but he shakes his head and gestures around us. I know why. Neither one of us believes that Frank is a good guy, and neither one of us trusts him. He’s exactly the kind of guy who would put out listening devices or even cameras that we can’t see.
Neither one of us wants to be caught by Frank.
Not when we’re being honest.