My Girlfriend Bites (Young Adult Paranormal Werewolf Romance)

Chapter 32

Aiden

Issy wakes me up. I stretch and yawn. My wingman scratches himself as he sits on the edge of my bed. He's already rolled up my sleeping bag that I let him use last night. The clock says it's noon, and Issy wants to head back home. He had the brilliant idea of calling his parents before the party and telling them he was staying at my house for a Death and Valor 4 marathon. Issy calls Pamela to see how she's feeling. She wants Issy to come over later. I give him a fist bump.

"Are you in-sync with this, A-man?"

"Why wouldn't I be okay with it?"

"You were into her at one time, and I don't want you putting the hate on me for making a move here."

After last night I know who I want to be with for the rest of my life. And I know she feels the same way. And it's pretty damn awesome.

"You and me are solid, dude. Make your move."

Issy takes a Tylenol pill for his headache before I escort him through the living room. Dad watches football as he snacks on some Doritos. Issy and my dad exchange some awkward head nods before my friend leaves. I close the door and snap the deadbolt.

"Late night, huh?" Dad asks, more cheerful today than usual.

I didn't tell him about the party last night. He might have tagged along so he could drink all the free beer. "We were up late playing D and V so Issy decided to crash here."

"Yeah, swore I heard that GameMaster of yours going late last night."

Dad must be hearing things. Doesn't matter. He's not suspicious, so I can go back to sleep and forget about it.

"Game's on," Dad says. "We can order pizza for lunch if you want."

I need more sleep not pizza, but I plop on the couch and watch football anyway. We get pizza delivered. I chow down, filling my belly with pizza that only multiplies the sleepiness by a factor of ten. Catch myself falling asleep a few times. But I stop fighting the urge and drift off.

A loud boom wakes me up. It's a distant boom like...thunder? I look over at Dad, and he's drinking. Great. The second football game of the double-header starts on television. There's a tornado watch icon at the corner of the screen thanks to our local station.

When they hit the next commercial break, a severe weather animation blasts across the screen. A weather guy shows a line of heavy thunderstorms on the radar heading our way. Dad finishes his bottle, then yells at the weather guy for interrupting his game. He's slurring his words already.

Time to hide in my bedroom again.

I close my door and do some homework. Rain pelts my window. At first it's a gentle tapping, like leaves blowing against the glass, but then it increases. The rain smacks against the glass with force. The wind slaps the trees around, making the branches twist and turn. The thunder grows louder. The time between the flash and the boom shrinks. That means the lightning is closer to our house. I unplug the laptop. Last year Issy lost a computer during a storm when lightning fried the circuit board.

The wind increases, punching the trees outside. The rain pours down.

Outdoor tornado sirens wail in the distance.

Damn.

I run to the living room. The weather guy on television says something about a tornado warning for Tulsa County. It might be already on the ground. They track the tornado on the radar map, and it's heading for our part of town.

Dad fumes at the television with his whiskey voice. "Stupid dumb-asses. Don't know shit. Tryin' to scare us. That's all. Cuttin' over the game fur this shit."

So much for having a responsible parent around.

"Dad, the sirens are going off. Don't you think we should go into the closet?"

The interior hall closet is the only kind of tornado shelter we have. What about Bree? Did she hear about the warning? I should call her, but first I need to get Dad's drunk ass into the closet.

"Dad?"

He doesn't answer.

The wind blows hard now, making the house creak. I don't like this.

"I think we should go in the closet."

"Shut up," Dad says.

"This is serious."

"Go runnin' to the closet like some little girl. Be my guest," he slurs.

A part of me wants to leave him. Let him die being a drunk asshole because it would serve him right. But he's my dad. Even though he's messed up...he's still my dad.

I grab on to his arm and pull him off his chair. "Let's both be girls, then." I hope the joke lightens him up as I work Dad towards the closet. I get him to the hallway, but he works his way out of my grasp.

"Get off me."

"But Dad..."

He throws a punch that connects.

I stumble back.

"Don't think your man enough to boss me 'round. 'Cuz you ain't. Stop being a wuss. Sleep all God damn day and then get all scared 'bout rain. What kind of man did I raise? Huh?"

The surprise hurts more than the pain in my cheek. I'm used to the pain. A sudden flood of emotion pushes against me, and I try to fight it off, but then I feel tears streaming down my cheeks.

Dad strikes me with the side of his knuckle. "Stop cryin' like a wussy boy, you soft piece of shit."

The hit makes me cry harder.

He hits me again. "You gonna go to the bathroom and kill yourself now?"

The insult burns in the pit of my stomach. The pathetic kid hides inside that crevasse. My nose stuffs up as the tears pour out of me. I can't stop them. I want to stop them, and I can't. I am a wuss. Men don't cry like this. Why can't I shut it off?

"Stop crying." Dad slaps me.

The house shudders. The wind sounds angry. I hear metal clanking against metal, but it's not coming from outside.

Dad holds the iron poker from next to the fireplace. "Want somethin' to cry about, you little girl?"

I hold my hands out to block what's coming.

Dad slams the poker across my hands, knocking them down. Searing pain goes through my arms. Dad swings again and strikes the side of my cheek, and pain fires up my jaw. God, it hurts. I collapse to the floor. I'm bigger than him. I should get up and beat the crap out of him, but the pathetic turd inside me curls up to take his punishment like he's supposed to.

But Dad drops the poker, which clangs against the floor, and retires to his bedroom.

The wind calms down.

The rain stops.

The tornado never hits us.

I crawl to my bedroom, lock my door, and climb into bed. My head and cheek throb with pain. But somehow I fall back to sleep.