short skirts ➳ l.h.

t h r e e

t h r e e :

"Lottie, is that a hickey?" Luke asks me.

Oh fucking shit.

"Umm." I twirl my hair around my finger, shifting my weight from one foot to the other. “No.”

But my ‘no’ doesn’t sound like a statement. It sounds like a question.

“Let me see Lottie.” He says, his eyebrows knotted, a frown written across his face. He reaches his hand out to move my hair aside but I step away from him before he can.

“No.” I tell him.

“Lottie, I’m your father, let me see.”

“No.” I tell him, crossing my arms, “Besides, you’re my stepfather, not my real one.”

“But I’m still in charge of you, and besides your mother isn’t here Lottie, so let me fucking see.”

Luke doesn’t get angry very easily, so when he does, its means that he really is mad.

But mad Luke is really frightening.

He tries to push my hair aside again, and so not wanting to make Luke any madder, I let him.

If it was possible for his face to make him look not only angrier, but scarier at the same time, then it just happened when he saw the marks that Ashton had left.

“Are there more?”

I shake my head.

“I don’t believe you. Lottie, take off your sweater.”

My stepfather is asking me to strip. In front of him.

Talk about frightening.

“No.”

“Lottie, you have a shirt underneath it, it’s not like I’m going to see anything, take off the fucking sweater.” Luke growls, biting his lip ring.

Oh yeah, did I mention that my step father has a lip ring?

I hate seeing this side of Luke and honestly want nothing more than to be back on his good side.

So I take off my sweater, leaving me in my white button up, which, without a tank top underneath, is very see through.

And I don’t have a tank top on.

Luke sucks in a harsh breath when he sees all of the marks on my body.