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Jackson, who’s been holding my hand since we got up from the table, drops it unceremoniously. His gaze wanders off into the distance, leaving me feeling exposed and vulnerable. “I’m single at the moment.”
I’m determined to get him to admit what we both know he’s lying about. “Want to go out with me?” I tilt my head and coyly glance up at him from the side, flashing an inviting smile. My lips curve into a mischievous grin as I meet his gaze, the corners of my eyes crinkling with playful intent. But I’m not inviting enough because he cocks his head and has an almost pitying look on his face.
“Christine, I think you’re a lovely girl,” he begins.
I don’t need him to finish the rejection. Even though I know he’s rejecting me because he’s seeing Carrie, it still stings. Despite trying to maintain composure, I can feel my heart racing and my fists clenching in response. “What? Not old enough for you, Jackie boy? You looking for a more experienced blonde? Perhaps one with a rich husband you can exploit?”
Jackson’s easygoing smile slowly fades, replaced with a glare. “Enough,” he says quietly. “I know you have a relationship with Kaye, and since Kaye is Carrie’s daughter, I will respect you. But make no mistake, my interest in you is purely surface-level. You’re not my type. To answer your question, yes, I prefer older women. I prefer my women to be mature. I like women whodon’t act like they’re fresh out of high school and can seduce any man they want. I preferwomen, Christine, not little girls.”
Heat unfurls in my chest and stretches its sinewy fingers through every limb of my body. I feel like a puppet formed from my humiliation and shame, barely able to move my limbs on my own. Turning swiftly on my heel, I head back for the house before Jackson can see the tears welling up in my eyes from embarrassment.
I resolve to keep this interaction to myself because of my pride. Jackson calls my name in exasperation from somewhere behind me, but I keep walking until I’m back in the house and I see Kaye. “It’s time to go,” I tell her abruptly.
As we leave, she offers Jackson a forced‘good night’. I thank Carrie for dinner but say nothing to her friend.
“Jackson is definitely interested in your mom,” I announce as we climb into the car. “I tried my damnedest to flirt with him, and nothing. I swear he only has eyes for Carrie.” Thank God for the darkness because it shields my embarrassment.
Kaye slams her hands down on the steering wheel in anger. “Damn it. I knew it. She kept telling me there was nothing between them, and he’s just a good guy.”
I shrug, more out of insult than indifference. I know I’m not everyone’s type, but Jackson calling me a little girl hurt my feelings. “I don’t know. Maybe heisa good guy, and she doesn’t like him back.” I hope Carrie realizes what an ass he is before it’s too late.
Thankfully, my best friend is over this conversation, and she says exactly what I’m thinking. “I need a drink.”
I wipe away my surly attitude and agree wholeheartedly. “Great. Because the foam party starts at 10:00 and we still need to get ready. It’s time to get down with our bad selves!” I cheer, trying to forget what happened.
But my bruised ego leads me into temptation and drags me down the path of sin. As we drive back to Rosedale, I text the only man that makes me feel something. I know that I shouldn’t, but the second I press‘send’, it doesn’t matter anymore.
Bad boys, bad decisions, right? Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.
Chapter 19
Niccolo
Before Christine left for college, I sat her down and told her about the dangers of alcohol. I was desperate to protect my stepdaughter from what awaited her at university. I warned her about the manipulative boys who lurked at parties, waiting to take advantage of young, naive girls. I cautioned her against making rash decisions fueled by cheap tequila. But warning a brick wall would have done more good than talking to Christine.
Christine
Your kinda cute when youre mad
She’s been drunk texting me for an hour. I know she’s drunk because her grammar gets sloppier with every text. It’s something every drunk person is guilty of, including myself.
Go back to your dorm, Chris.
Christine
Youre nt my father. You can’t tell me what to do
Idon’t even know where she’s at. I was hanging out with my brothers when she first texted me, and it’s been downhill ever since.
I’m the closest thing you have to a father. Now get your ass back to your dorm.
Her text bubble pops up, indicating that she’s typing. I watch the animated gray dots until they disappear, but no text comes through. “Un-fucking-believable.” I toss my phone, and it sails across the room toward the other couch. Thank God it smacks into the cushions instead of the marble fireplace behind it.
“What’s up?” Luciano’s hand shoots out to grab my device, his face contorting in confusion as he surveys the conversation between my stepdaughter and me.
“Christine is drunk texting me,” I scowl, my lips pursed in frustration.
Dante’s eyes widen and his eyebrows raise skeptically before he rolls them upwards, expressing his annoyance and disbelief.“You need to keep your girl on a shorter leash,” he says. “You don’t see Adalina getting trashed in bars.”
