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“A name I don’t particularly like.” I rise up and kiss her, my lips lingering. “Want me to walk you to your house?”
“I can go by myself.”
She stands, going to my desk chair and grabbing her jacket, pulling it on, then slinging her backpack over her shoulder. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Yeah.” I go to her again, pressing her against the door, kissing her hard. I can’t stop kissing her. I wish she didn’t have to leave. We need to try and plan some sort of weekend getaway soon, though I’m sure her dad won’t let her go.
Fucking sucks, having to deal with an overprotective parent. That’s a first.
“Bye,” she whispers, kissing me one more time.
“I’ll miss you.”
She smiles. “You’ll see me in the morning.”
“I’ll still miss you. I like having you in my bed.”
Her cheeks turn pink. That this girl can still blush after I went down on her from behind and made her scream into a pillow—I don’t get it. “I like being in your bed.”
We kiss—and we don’t stop. Until she’s eventually pushing me away and I stumble backward, not ready to quit but doing it for her.
Always for her.
“I’ll see you later,” she says, her voice firm as she turns her back to me and unlocks the door.
“Text me when you get home.”
“I will,” she promises, opening the door. “Bye, Arch.”
“Bye, Daze.”
I watch the door shut, hating how empty my room feels with her gone. I immediately go to the window, pissed at myself for not walking with her. Thankfully the rain stopped, but the sidewalks are wet and what if she slips and falls?
Jesus, I am way too overprotective. I need to chill.
Within seconds, Daisy appears walking down the sidewalk, headed to her house. I watch her go, my chest aching, worry filling me though I don’t quite know why.
That’s a lie. I know. It’s her dad. I’m worried he’ll overreact when she comes home and make her feel guilty for being with me. I don’t want to lose her, and I definitely don’t want her father convincing her that I’m a piece of shit she should steer clear of.
I don’t get his hatred toward me. I need to talk to him. Show him how much I care about his daughter. Because I do. Care about Daisy.
Pretty sure I’m falling in love with her.
FORTY-ONE
DAISY
I enter the house quietly,glancing around the darkened living room, looking for any sign of life. I realized as I approached the house that the light is actually coming from the kitchen, the little lamp that sits on our table that my dad uses sometimes when he pays bills and has trouble reading the fine print. I don’t remember leaving that light on when I left this morning, but maybe my dad did because it’s awfully quiet in here.
Thank God he’s not home.
Shutting the door, I turn the lock and am about to switch on the lamp when I hear my father’s voice break through the silence.
“Where the hell have you been?”
I flick on the lamp, shocked when I see my father sitting in his recliner, his head tilted to the right, his intense gaze locked on me. He’s leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees and his hands clutched together, his expression stormy. I remain rooted to the spot where I stand, clutching my backpack strap so tight my fingers start to ache.
“Um—”
