She’s a teenager, I tell myself.A teenager.
“I kind of was. I’d barely even hit puberty back then. Now I’m of legal voting age!”
“All right, that’s enough,” Douglas says, sliding a spatula between us to get her off me. “Let the poor guy breathe.”
I chuckle, doing my best to make the whole awkward situation seem as normal as possible, but goddamn if it isn’t nearly impossible to keep my eyes off her as Dougie doles out the burgers and chips.
Her wavy blond hair looks like she just sprang out of the ocean, hurried to the beach for a photoshoot, then rushed back here to her father’s house. If she wasn’t so goddamn innocent, I’d think she was trying to seduce me with those bright blue eyes that seem to pierce right through the universe as she looks back at me.
Her tits are literally about to overflow out of the cups of her bra, and it’s taking every ounce of willpower I have not to focus on them and to keep my eyes on my burger. I’ve met some hot women in my life, but nothing in the world can compete with a pair of perky teenage tits, and Lucy is proving it with every second she stays here in my presence.
I take a bite of Dougie’s burger in a desperate attempt to distract me. It’s good, damn good, but it’s juicy as hell, and all that makes me think of is just how juicy his daughter’s fresh pussy must be between those perfect thighs.
“Well, what do you think, Titus?”
“Huh?” I ask, looking up. The expression on my face is probably like a dog who’s just had his name called but has no idea why. “Oh, the burger? Yeah, it’s delicious!”
I hold a thumbs up as I continue chewing. I’m not lying, but even now, my mind is on…other things. For some reason, only God knows why, Lucy has decided to pull up a chair and sit down, so I turn my chair and angle it toward the back yard, pretending to be interested in what Douglas has done with the tree line.
But that’s not even remotely where my mind is. My mind is on all the horrible things I want to do to my best friend’s daughter. How I want to take her into the house right now, strip the clothes off of her to expose that fresh teenage body, and have my way with it.
But what kind of friend does that make me?
A sudden swell of guilt rushes through me. I set my plate aside and stand.
“Hey, Dougie. I, uh…I just remembered I was supposed to do a video call with my folks from my house this afternoon,” I lie, but I havegotto get out of here. Lucy’s presence is simply too much for me. “You gonna kill me if I head home for a bit? I could swing back a little later.”
Doug does this thing he’s great at, which is a combination smirk/frown, takes a bite of his burger and shakes his head. “Nah, man. Go ahead. Gotta do what the folks want you to do.”
“Aw, but I just saw you again for the first time inyears,” Lucy whines. Christ, her voice is adorable. She’s even biting her lip at me. Does she even know how cute and sexy she looks when she does that, or is she completely unaware? “Dad, can I show Titus some of my art before he goes?”
“No, honey, leave Titus alone.” Douglas shakes his head. “There will be time for that later.”
She looks like an adorable little kitty that just needs to be petted and swept into my arms. I know this isn’t a big deal—me not seeing her art, whatever that even means—but I suddenly feel the need to fix everything in her life for her, and even though the whole point of me lying about this video call with my folks was to get me out of here and away from her, I go ahead and open my mouth and make ahugemistake.
“I’ll take a look,” I say. “As long as we make it quick.”
2
Lucy
I was soexcited about taking Titus to my bedroom to show him my artwork, but now as he follows me up the stairs, I feel more nervous than I’ve ever felt about anything in my life—including when I sang at Homecoming.
I know I’ve changed since Titus last saw me, but so has he.
The last time I saw him, he was definitely a rugged, in-shape Marine, but now it’s like he’s filled out into a big bear of a man, like one of those soldiers from the movie 300. All he needs is a shield and spear and he would fit the part completely.
Men like him are only supposed to exist in the movies or on high-fashion posters. The moment I saw him on there on the porch with my dad I couldn’t believe it was him.
I guess that’s why I want him to care so much about my art, and as we step through the door of my bedroom, my heartrate instantly soars.
“So what’s this art of yours…?” Titus asks, but his voice trails off when he sees the paintings I’ve got laid out around my room. There’s a pause, which probably isn’t long but feels like the longest pause of my life, as he looks around.
I almost want to punch him in the chest and ask him what he thinks, but I wait, doing my best to be a good girl, as he takes it all in.
His eyes stop on my latest, a sunset done from the back porch that actually isn’t finished just yet. To dismay, he points to it.
“I like this one. It reminds me of our barbeque.”