For some reason, as he drags his eyes up my body, I wonder if Baron said something similar to my mom when they first met. I highly doubt it. He may be an asshole – an overbearing, sexually repressive, slut-shaming asshole – but he has a bit more class than Harry.
“I dunno.” I shrug coyly. “What am I doing with it?”
The better question is what am I doing here?
I honestly don’t know. As I shift my weight from my sore butt to my thigh, I realize that the fantasy I had in my head of coming out here in defiance of my stepdad, is a lot better than the reality. What good is it if he’s not even here to see it? And what do I even want with Harry anyway?
Sure, he’s the captain of the hockey team, but he’s also the same age as me and a total player. I know for a fact he’s slept with at least five girls on the cheerleading squad, and rumor has it he gave Christy gonorrhea.
It’s a total flip seeing a guy react positively to seeing me. I don’t wear this kind of stuff at school, that’s for sure, and the only man who’s seen me in an outfit like this is Baron, who apparently wants me wrapped in a burlap sack or something. Harry, on the other hand, seems to love it.
“The other guys on the team didn’t believe me when I told them you had a killer body,” he muses, licking his lips. “They also said you were a prude who never hooks up with guys and that I had no shot. But you never got hit on by the captain of the hockey team, did you?”
Gag. I think I’m going to be sick.
Yeah. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.
“Umm…” I discretely reach behind me for the door handle, but as I do, Harry moves right in for the kiss.
Oh, shit.
2
Pixie
I sort of freeze as Harry leans in.
He’s going to kiss me. It’s no surprise. I knew he wanted that from me (or more) when he texted me and told me to come outside, but I guess I just wasn’t prepared for the reality of it all.
Harry is the captain of the varsity hockey team at my school. He’s also got a scholarship for college next year, and a lot of people say he’ll one day end up in the NHL. I had a big crush on him three years ago, but he wouldn’t even look at me, so when he asked for my number last week at school, how could I say no?
Harry asking me out is like NASA asking me to join an expedition to the moon; it just shouldn’t happen. But it did, and that’s how I ended up here.
I had it all planned out, and it’s working. But now – now I don’t know what to do.
Do I really want to kiss him?
No, that’s a stupid question. Of course I don’t. I want him to want to kiss me. That’s all. God, Baron is right; I’m so immature. He’s been telling me that for six months now, but it’s hard to take anything he says to heart when he says it like I’m the dumbest girl who’s ever lived.
“You think that’s appropriate to wear around the goddamn house?” he’s asked me many times before.
And then the spanking…
Talk about humiliating. But at the same time, I kind of liked it. Baron’s always so stoic, icy and calm. It’s one of the reasons he’s so good at what he does, I’m sure. But when he marched upstairs and started screaming at me…well, let’s just say I was kind of proud of getting a reaction out of him.
Maybe his dickheadedness is rubbing off on me.
When I feel the heat from Harry’s breath as he moves in to kiss me, I start to panic. Shit, how did I get myself into this? I have to do something. But what? I can’t stop him now. How crappy would that be? He’ll call me a tease and tell everyone at school about how I led him on and then gave him blue balls or something.
But I don’t want him to kiss me!
Thankfully, someone else makes the decision for me.
The passenger side door almost comes off its hinges as Baron rips it open.
“You!” he roars. I look up in terror. Is he yelling at me? “Yes, you, you little slut. Get out of there!”
“B—Baron—?”