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My dad looked down at me. My hands began to shake. I had no idea how he would manage to pull that off. Had he texted his mom while he was driving? I didn’t even know. I’d been too lost in my head and the upcoming explosion.
“Is this true, Elizabeth?” Dad asked me, his tone a bit calmer now.
“Yes.” I cleared my throat when he narrowed his eyes at me, disgust flickering through them. “Yes,” I answered again, my voice a bit stronger. “My phone was on silent so we could focus, and I forgot to turn it back on ring.”
He grunted and pointed toward the house. “Get upstairs and get a shower. You look like shit.”
I flinched. Drake opened his mouth to defend me, but I just quickly grabbed his hand and squeezed it before dropping it again, hoping he understood that I didn’t want him stepping in for me. I looked up at him. “Thank you,” I whispered as my dad turned and stormed back into the house.
He glanced at my dad’s back before looking back down at me. “You don’t look like shit, Elizabeth.” He smirked. “Thoroughly fucked, sure.” My cheeks burned. “But not shit. Go get some rest, yeah? I put my number in your phone last night. Text me or call me, okay?”
With that, he grabbed the back of my head, pressed a kiss to my forehead, and then walked back around the front of his truck to leave.
I was pretty sure my heart fell into his palm when he pressed his lips to my skin.
The weekend was fucking horrible. Dad had lost a major business deal, and he also lost a court case against a client, which cost him close to a million dollars.
I got the shit end of the stick that weekend. He had taken my phone away for staying out all night, not to mention the degrading names he’d called me all day Saturday and Sunday. And per usual, my mother pretended none of it was happening. So long as she got what she wanted—money and a lavish lifestyle—anything that happened to me was of no concern to her.
I’d spent more time crying through the weekend than I did anything else.
Monday morning, my phone was on my nightstand with a note from my mother telling me that they had left again and wouldn’t be back for a month, at least. There was nothing about money for food, so I figured I was on my own for that until they got around to sending it to me.
My eyes burned and felt extremely puffy and sore. My cheeks felt raw, and my head was pounding. I really didn’t want to go to school and deal with all the hatred again, especially not after the shitty weekend I’d just had.
My phone went off, surprising me. I quickly grabbed it, making out Drake’s name on the screen. “Hello?” I groggily answered.
“They finally give you your phone back?” Drake asked, sounding relieved. I made a small noise in response. “I’m sorry for the shit storm that happened,” he apologized, warming my soul.
“It’s fine.” I sat up, looking at the alarm clock on my nightstand, quietly groaning. “I need to get ready for school if I plan to make it on time.”
“Actually, I’m coming to pick you up,” he told me. My heart skipped a beat in my chest. “And I’ve got some blueberry muffins with me that my mom just made this morning, so they’re warm and fresh, not to mention they taste like fucking heaven.” I couldn’t help it; I laughed. “So, take your time, yeah?”
“Okay,” I whispered. “And Drake, can we avoid each other at school today?” I tentatively asked.
He growled. “Fuck no. Stop hiding, babe. You’re mine now.” My heart swelled in my chest at his words despite the fear they evoked. “From now on, if someone has a fucking problem with you, they’ve got a problem with me, got it?”
“I’m not sure you want to get caught up in my hell, Drake,” I told him honestly. “You’re at the top of the food chain—”
He cut me off. “I don’t give a fuck. It’s final, Elizabeth. I’ll see you in a bit, yeah?”
He cut the call, finalizing his words. I nervously chewed on my bottom lip.
Drake, you have no idea what kind of hell you’re signing yourself up for.
Drake smiled at me when I opened the front door for him. He was wearing a pair of black jeans with a white t-shirt, a leather jacket on over it instead of his usual letterman. He handed me a small to-go container. “Muffins,” he explained at my perplexed look.
“Oh, thank you.” I smiled, stepping back to let him further into the house. I shut the door behind him afterward.
I walked into the kitchen and set the container on the counter, but before I could open it, Drake gently turned me around, backed me up against the counter, and covered his lips with my own. He gripped my waist, plastering our bodies together as he gently pried my lips apart, deepening the kiss.
