“Do you have more of those?” she asks. She won’t fucking drop it. I’m not sure why she cares.
“Of you? No.”
“No, any more drawings.”
“In my art class, sure.”
“At home.”
I shake my head. “Left everything at the old house.”
It was true. I left that place with a few clothes shoved into a duffel bag. Juliette cried as my dad assured her since I was eighteen that it wasn’t statutory rape. I’ll never forget my father standing there, knuckles bruised and bloody, and he’s calm as a fucking yoga instructor as he shoots the shit with the cops our neighbors called when they heard Juliette’s guttural shrieks. I left with a bag of clothes and the social worker. As for Juliette’s fate, I’m sure my father roughed her up pretty good, and for the first time, I wasn’t there to protect her.
“You’re incredibly talented,” Waverly says.
“You seem surprised.”
“It’s not a bad thing. I’m impressed, is all.”
Claire Fahlander spins around and shoots Waverly a dirty look before shushing us both. I have half a mind to break her heart just for the sport of it. I bet she’s one of those girls who ugly cries.
“That’s what happens when you judge a book by its cover.” I smirk.
She leans close, her steady breaths tickling my ear. “Likewise.”
I knew it.
I fucking knew it.
Underneath her prim and proper façade is a girl dying to break free from the confines of her ass-backward religious restraints. She’s straddling the line. I can see it. It’s written all over in the way she looks at me, like I make her feel things that terrify and excite her all at the same time.
Any guilt I might have felt by pushing her buttons last night evaporates. I have my work cut out for me, that’s for sure, but I’m so not done with her yet…
CHAPTER 10
I forced myself to talk at dinner tonight. I couldn’t take another family meal smothered by the weight of Jensen’s stare. I’m a big girl. I made a decision. I touched myself last night, and I enjoyed it.
End of story.
Bellamy always says everyone has secrets; some are just better at hiding them than others.
So now I have a secret. It burns hot inside me, fresh as the instant it was placed there by the most earth-shattering orgasm I could’ve ever dreamed up. But it’s there now, and there’s no getting around it.
I finish dish duty and glance out the sliding door toward the backyard, where Jensen is outside playing with Gretchen and Gideon after the light drizzle we got that evening. They’re half-siblings, but they look nothing alike. They have soft features like Kath does, but their hair is almost colorless. Dad said his hair was that pale when he was a kid. The twins are like two effervescent angels. Jensen is dark and hardened. The three of them all laughing and playing together is a sight to see.
A warm hand wraps around my shoulder. “You okay, Waverly?”
It’s my father.
“Of course I’m okay.” I force a smile and pray to God he can’t see right through me.
“Is Jensen bothering you?” His lips go straight and his brows meet in the middle. “You haven’t been yourself since he came around.”
“School stuff,” I say, placing my hand over his. “Getting nervous about getting into college. Still haven’t heard from my number one and graduation’s coming up.”
His face relaxes as he kisses my forehead. “You worry too much about your future. You know I’ll always make sure you’re provided for.”
“I appreciate it, Dad, but this is my dream.”
Dad leans down, kissing my forehead. “You’re a good girl, Waverly. Heavenly Father has big plans for you. I feel it in my soul.”
“After college, Dad.” I smile. “I just want to study literature, make some friends, and then I’ll settle down.”
He doesn’t say much, which concerns me, but I chalk it up to my anxiety about not hearing back yet from the University of Utah.
“I’ve been doing good, though, right, Dad?” I glance up at him, meeting his eyes with as much hope as I can muster. “I’m doing all the right things. Making you proud. Showing you I can handle being on my own for a few years.”
“We need to get through the rest of the summer,” he says, his eyes whipping outside to Jensen. “A lot can happen after high school graduation. People change. Attitudes change.”
“Dad.” I tilt my head. “You know me. I’m not like most young women my age.”
I glance across the room at Bellamy. She’s sitting in Dad’s overstuffed club chair flipping through a Better Homes & Gardens magazine. At almost twenty-two, she’s never moved from home, not even after finishing her associate’s degree last year.