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Butterflies exploded in my stomach. We’d been dancing around the edge of calling the growing flirtation between us what it was. Now, I felt like he’d given it a name. I was the girl he fought Cassian over.
“He’s an asshole,” I blurted.
Clint slid a backpack off his shoulder and set it on the couch, making himself comfortable. Once I saw his crisp clothes and expensive looking backpack on our ratty couch, it occurred to me that I should be ashamed of the hovel I lived in.
I wanted to look natural, so I moved over to sit beside him, close enough that our thighs touched. I also had no idea what to do once you invited a guy over. Was he going to expect us to just start making out, or something? Were we supposed to watch a movie? Play board games?
Clint answered my question when he pulled a comedically large bottle of liquor and some red cups out of his backpack. “I brought the party.” He grinned, getting up to search the fridge. “Have any soda in here?”
I eyed the bottle of liquor while he rooted through my fridge. Every time I thought about drinking, I couldn’t stop myself from imagining my dad. Part of me hated alcohol for what it had turned him into. Then another part of me thought all the alcohol had really done was strip away the façade. After all, he’d been too scared to come into the house looking for me or mom before he’d ever been a drunk. What kind of man was that? What kind of love was that?
I blew out a breath and decided to stop being dramatic. A little numbness would be just what I needed.
An hour later—maybe two, I wasn’t really sure—Clint and I had both had our fair share. My head spun pleasantly, but was veering into the unpleasantly drunk territory, where I was starting to wonder if the only way this would feel better was if I threw up.
Clint had his arm around me, and his legs splayed wide. He wore jeans, but I could feel the warmth of his skin pulsing through them into me. And then we were kissing.
I didn’t remember how it started, but his lips were on mine. He tasted like liquor and the sugary aftertaste of the soda we’d chased it with. Underneath the scent was a stale, warm rush of something less pleasant. Simple bad breath, but I figured mine probably wasn’t pristine either after a few hours of sipping drinks.
I kissed him back, and even through the drinks, it wasn’t all fireworks and starlight. It was enough that my body responded, filling me with a pleasant kind of warmth and the natural hunger that came with it. But when I put my hand on his neck thoughtlessly, I couldn’t help sensing the shadow of Cassian that lingered there.
My breath caught, and I found myself kissing him more intensely. Clint responded, shifting his weight and putting his hand on my chest. I stiffened but let him reach to unbutton my blouse.
That was when the door swung open.
We both jolted apart, but there was no hiding the red of our cheeks or the way I was hastily trying to button my blouse back up.
My dad was staring at us with barely hidden rage in his face.
“You were supposed to be at work.” My voice sounded dumb in my own ears.
“And this is what you do when I’m working? Fuck around on my couch? In my house?” He loped toward Clint, but Clint stood, holding his palms up.
“Mr. Rhodes, I’ll leave. We were kissing, and I—”
My dad took a wild swing at Clint, but Clint easily ducked the attack and sidestepped toward the door. My dad took two staggering, drunken steps toward him before he lost his balance and had to lean on a wall.
Clint shot me a look at the door. “Will you be okay?”
“It’s better if you go.” I swallowed hard, fighting the urge to beg him to stay. My dad had never laid a hand on me in anger, but I wondered if that would still be true in a few minutes.
He watched Clint go, realizing he had no hope of catching him. My dad turned his focus on me. The one who was stuck here. The prey.
“I’ve suffered your disrespect enough. It’s time you learn a lesson.” He advanced toward me.
I’d sat through his abuse more times than I could count. I’d let him make me feel useless and weak. But something was different now. I felt a spark that refused to die down, even when the full wrath of his anger was staring me in the face.
“You were too much of a coward to come back for us.” My tone dripped with accusation.
He stopped short, narrowing his eyes. “Who the fuck have you been talking to?”
