It was nice.Freeing.
Drew and Viola went on eating, unaffected by how their parents looked at each other as if they were still newlyweds on their honeymoon. It was normal for them. Normal family behavior.
To them.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d ever seen my parents act like that. I couldn’t remember because it’d never happened. Not in my family. I knew then my parents weren’t in love. They were together for appearances, and it hurt. Watching the Fisher family interact showed me what I had been missing for all those years. The adoration in the room was almost contagious.
Looking back, I could remember a time when my mother would at least pretend to be happy. She’d paint a smile on her face to cover up the hurt and pain and tell me everything was just fine.
Then she eventually stopped pretending. I was just a kid, but I knew. I heard my father yelling over inconsequential things, and I saw the way it affected my mother. I didn’t realize just how dysfunctional my family truly was. Until I saw what it meant to be a family, how a man was supposed to treat his wife, and how loving the Fishers were to one another.
Drew and I grew up together, but we didn’t grow up the same. He was rugged on the outside but wore his heart on his sleeve. After that dinner, I prayed for a family like the Fishers. But every day, I woke up in a house that served as my own personal prison.
When you’re told toget over itandbe a man,you bury any feelings that threaten to surface. Showing emotion meant you were weak, and if my father saw weakness in me, he’d exploit it. I learned to be numb.Men don’t cry, he’d tell me. Men definitely didn’t show remorse.
I knew, even as a young teen, that my dad was a hard-ass. He never said he loved me or my mom. He didn’t express love or show affection or give any indication at all that he wanted us. We were a burden, and yelling was his way of communicating. It was his way or the highway. His iron fist ruling was eventually what drove me away. Once I left, I swore I’d never move back home, regardless of how much I struggled. Struggling was better than being around the man I grew to hate.
The first time I ever liked a girl, I was eleven years old. She was in the Sunday school class that my mom made me go to every week. I knew she liked me because every time I sat by her, she’d avoid eye contact with me, and she’d blush anytime she caught me looking at her. A girl who sat on the other side of her giggled and stared at me. The more she laughed, the more I wanted to scream at her to shut up. Stop laughing. Stop looking at me.Why the hell is she laughing at me?
It was the first time I’d ever felt uncontrollable anger. I didn’t understand it. I jumped up, mumbled an excuse about going to the bathroom, and hid out until the class was over. My palms were sweaty, and my body shook with anxiety.
My first reaction to a girl’s attention was toyellat her. I knew yelling was rude and would’ve been completely out of line, but it was my gut instinct. It wasn’t until a couple of years later that I understood exactly what had happened. Yelling and anger were the only emotions I’d been taught growing up. It was the only means I had of reacting to an uncomfortable situation. Then when I met Viola, the urge to protect her overwhelmed me and for a while I thought maybe I wasn’t like my father. But then she started asking about boys, and how she could tell if a boy liked her, and I could only see red. My throat tightened, my hands balled into fists, and I nearly drew blood from my teeth sinking into my bottom lip. The urge to scream at her came out of nowhere, and I barely managed to stop myself.
Her soft voice calmed me down, and I reeled my emotions back in check, but I knew from that day forward, a part of my father would always be inside me. He’d been treating my mother like that for years, and now I knew—I was built from the same blueprint.
I didn’t have to protect Viola from boys at school.
I had to protect her fromme.
“Hey, Travis.” Jeni’s voice brings me out of the past and back into the present with a small wave and knowing smile as I wipe down the equipment. “Lookin’ pretty good out there.”
I clear my throat, shaking the thoughts from my mind. “Thanks. Not looking so bad yourself, babe.” I wink, knowing it’ll get her excited. I finish cleaning the treadmill and walk over to put the spray back. She follows.
“How’ve you been?” I ask, remembering the last time we hooked up in the co-ed shower.
“Not too bad. Heading to Florida for spring break in the morning, but I don’t have any plans tonight.” I know exactly what she’s implying, and after Viola ran off my date last night, I don’t hesitate to take the bait.
“Well, we can’t have you leaving without a farewell party.” I grin, and her eyes sparkle. I let her take my hand and follow her into one of the vacant shower stalls.
“How do you want it, babe?” I ask, ripping my clothes off before turning the water on.
She smiles, undressing as she lowers her eyes down my body. “No limits,” she responds, making my dick jump.
“Fine by me…” I turn the water on and pull her chest to mine. The water cascades down my back, and before I can maneuver both of our bodies under the warmth, she has my dick in her hand.
I tilt her chin and bring her lips to mine. She hums into my mouth and strokes me harder. It feels fucking amazing. After dealing with Viola’s bullshit for the past twenty-four hours, I need a release.
I glide a hand up her side and palm her breast, rolling her nipple between my fingers. The way her body responds to mine has my skin on fire. One moment, I’m kissing and touching Jeni, a girl who means nothing to me, and the next, images of Viola surface in my mind. Ones of a wet and naked Viola with her gorgeous tits and ripe ass on display as she walked away from me. Then there was the way her body felt against mine last night. I know she was turned on just as much as I was. My cock was so fucking hard that I had to jerk off before bed just to calm the hell down.
“Travis…” Jeni purrs in my ear. She’s waiting for me to fuck her, but I can’t.
I remember the way Viola’s visibly taut nipples rubbed against the fabric of her tank and how I wanted to taste them.Goddammit, Viola Fisher!Even when she isn’t around, she’s cockblocking me.
“Jeni…” I say, trying to gently push her away.
“Yeah, baby? Want to bend me over?”
Fucking hell.