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DELILAH
“Better hurry up,” Mom calls from the kitchen. “Jasper will be here any second, and you don’t want to keep him waiting.”
No, we definitely wouldn’t want to do that.
The thought of seeing my boyfriend makes my belly pinch. Deep down, I know it shouldn’t be like that. But there’s no getting around it, that’s exactly the way he makes me feel. Nervous and on edge.
With those thoughts clouding my brain, I smooth a hand down my navy blazer before running a brush through my long, blonde hair. Just as I pick my backpack up from the floor near the narrow desk shoved against the wall, there’s a blast of a horn from outside. The knowledge that Jasper is waiting in the driveway has me quickening my step.
As I head out of the tiny bedroom, Mom waits in the living room with a stainless steel to-go container filled with my favorite coffee blend. I flash a grateful smile before nipping it from her outstretched hand.
“Thanks.I really needed this.”
“I know. You were up late studying. Again.” She arches her brow in a look meant to convey concern.
With a shrug, I bring the cup to my lips and take a sip. For me, there’s only one way out of this town and that’s with hard work and high grades which will hopefully end up with me being awarded a full academic ride to one of the state schools.
As I bring the steaming brew to my lips, a longer blare of the horn fills the air.
Instead of getting annoyed, Mom shoos me toward the door. “Hurry now and I’ll see you at school.”
I draw in a shaky breath and jerk my head into a nod before crossing the cramped space. With each footfall, I feel like I’m walking to my death.
Am I being a tad melodramatic?
Maybe.
The horn sounds for a third time.
Then again, maybe not.
With a final wave, I wrap my fingers around the handle and yank open the door before stepping onto the front stoop. My eyes reluctantly lift and settle on Jasper, who lounges behind the wheel of his sleek silver Porsche 911.
As soon as our gazes lock, he throws his hands up in an impatient let’s-go gesture.
That’s all it takes for the vague feeling of unease to congeal into a painful knot at the bottom of my belly. With any luck, I’ll only have to listen to him bitch about me taking too long and keeping him waiting. The last thing I want to do is fight him off this early in the morning.
It’s becoming an everyday occurrence.
There have been a handful of times when I’ve casually mentioned that it would be easier for me to catch a ride to school with my mother, since she works in the office at Hawthorne Prep, but he always quashes the idea, insisting he drive me instead.
It takes some mental prodding for me to force my feet into movement. I remind myself to paste a smile on my face as I walk around the hood of the sporty little vehicle and slide onto the plush leather seat beside him.
Before I can even get out a greeting, his hand snakes around the nape of my neck before dragging me closer until his lips can crash onto mine. I’m not given a choice to open. His tongue pries the seam of my lips apart before delving inside and wreaking havoc.
I would consider this kiss a fair representation of my boyfriend.
Punishing.
Slightly mean.
Angry.
At this point, my acquiescence is expected.
I’m ashamed to admit that in the six months we’ve been together, it’s become easier to give him what he wants and hope the price extracted isn’t too steep. So far, it hasn’t been, but I know that will change. Time is quickly dwindling. I can hear the faint ticks of the clock in my head.
When the front door of the house slams, I press my palms against his perfectly pressed white shirt and gently push him away.
