He throws his shirt over his head before quickly leaving the room. I don't want him to go. I want him to stay and wrap me in those large tatted arms, the ones that'd just made me experience things I never have.
Boston makes me feel so many new things. With him I'm not just this innocent little thing, a fragile sexual object in need of taking. No, I feel like an empowered woman with him. He had made my entire body awaken, made it feel like it was brand new.
When he had told me I didn't have to touch him today it had made me want to even more. I wanted to touch him. I wanted to make him feel good. I wanted to give him pleasure because it was exactly that— me wanting to.
Nothing about what we did was forced. I didn't have to make myself do anything with Boston. Everything with him just feels natural. It's not me being coerced into touching him or him touching me. No, the sexual tension between us is real. It's not just me feeling like I have to do some obligatory girlfriend sex task.
I'm not his girlfriend.
I swallow the lump in my throat as I sit down on the edge of my bed. I contemplate my previous thought. No, I'm not his girlfriend but I had done very girlfriend-like things with him. I had done sexual things with him that I had never done with Carter. I had never wanted to.
I let out a long sigh as I stare at the phone between both of my hands, the hands that had just been covered in Boston's orgasmic fluid. The voicemail notification flashing on the screen at me like a blaring siren.
Warning. Warning. Warning. Your father is going to kill your new boyfriend.
He's not my boyfriend.
I click on the voicemail message and let it play.
"Monica, I don't know why you won't pick up my phone calls. You always pick up my phone calls. I'm just trying to make sure you're safe. I'm just looking out for you." He lets out a frustrated breath and I can practically see my father standing in front of me pushing his hair back with a large tatted hand. It's something Boston does as well. "I called the school and I spoke to your dean to make sure your academic scholarship isn't pulled but there are stipulations to that. So, can you please pick up? Can you call me back? I only want the best for you. So please, give your old-man a call. I love you Mon-Bear."
Tears prick my eyes by the end of my father's voicemail. I am the quintessential epitome of a daddy's girl. My father has been nothing but loving and doting my entire life. He's been the very best father, in fact, albeit a tad over-protective. Seeing three missed calls from him, directly after what I had just done with Boston, made me feel terrible. Terrible and slightly disgusted with myself.
Blowing out a breath I press the number that belongs to my father and wait for him to answer. It doesn't even fully ring before he picks it up with, "Monica?"
"Hey Dad."
"God damn, it's so good to hear from you. You have no idea how worried your mother and I have been. Well, especially me." There's a pause and his voice gets a little thicker. "You know how much I love you, Monica. I only want good things for you. I don't know what's going on with you right now but I need to know you know that."
"I do know that, Dad." There's a long pause because I don't know how to continue. I don't know how to tell him I'm finally finding myself and who I'm with. I know he'll find out I'm with a guy eventually but I don't know how to tell him.
"I spoke to the dean at your school and I said that your brother just had a baby and that you were back home in Boston." Well he's not entirely wrong. I do feel at home with Boston. "Well, since it was a family emergency and what not they agreed to grant you leniency as long as you're back to attend class within the next week."
That's not enough time with Boston...
"Monica?"
"Hmm?"
"You do understand what I'm trying to tell you, right?" His voice is oddly smooth, almost too composed. There's something about it that's throwing me off.
"You're telling me that I need to be back at school after next week?"
"Preferably as soon as possible." His voice is even tighter, on the brink of something. "I would like you back at school before the weekend is over. You hardly know this friend of yours."
Why is he saying that like he knows who I am with?
"Monica?"
"Yeah, Dad?"
"Who is the friend that you're with?" Oh no, I know that voice.
"Uhm..."
"Monica, are you in Memphis with a random guy right now?" My blood runs absolutely cold. I don't answer him. I just stare off into space feeling the dread that's an inevitably going to wash over me any second. "And this friend, the one that you just met, thinks it's okay to kiss you?"
Oh, there it is. The dread. All over me.
"Dad, it's not what you think. He's really great and he—"
"Where are you and this guy staying?" I can practically see the wheels turning in his head at this very moment and it's making anxiety flow all throughout me. "He's a tattoo artist from Vegas? For fuck's sake, Monica."
Where is he finding all of this out? Oh my God. Oh myyyyy Godddd.
"Let me get this straight. You left your dream school to go on some random road trip with this... this guy? What happened to Carter?" My dad can't stand Carter.
"Dad, he's a good guy. He is honestly great. When you meet him—"
"Wait, you want me to meet this guy?" I can feel his tension as if it were my own. "You like him enough that you want me to meet him?"
I mull that over for a moment and answer honestly, "yeah. I think I do. He treats me well and he takes care of me. You don't—"
"What do you mean he 'takes care of you'? What the fuck is that supposed to mean? You just met the fucking guy, Monica."
If he only knew the ways he's taken care of me. I cringe thinking he might be thinking that exact thought. My father is no dummy.
"Yeah, Dad, I know I just met him but he's great." He barks out an incredulous laugh. "Dad, I'm serious he's—"
"Pulled you out of school and travelled states away with you to just plant his lips on you? Monica, this guy just wants one thing from you. You do realize that, right? You just met him and he already has his hands all over you. I mean, Jesus, I thought I raised you better than that?" The tears immediately prick my eyes at his words.
"Dad—"
"No, Monica, I'm seriously disappointed in you. I raised you better than that. I raised you to value yourself and to value your future. Throwing your life away, your future, for some random guy is below you. It is way below you. And you know it."
"But Dad—"
"You have until next week to get back to school and salvage whatever self-respect you have for yourself, Monica. I sincerely hope you do that." He hangs up on me and I feel my heart practically shatter.
My father is disappointed in me. I'm a disappointment.
Those thoughts rattle through me. They unnerve me to my very core. I toss my phone on the bed. My hands go up and clasp my throat as I gasp for air. It feels constricted, the dread is wrapping around it, choking me. The tears are pouring down my face when the door opens to the room.
I don't look at him but I hear his hurried footsteps as he comes over to me with, "Jesus Christ, Monica, what's going on? Did something happen?" He sits next to me and wraps my sobbing form into his arms. "Baby, tell me what's wrong. What happened?" Baby. The nickname makes another sob wrack out of me.
"I need to go back to school." I said in between choked cries and he tenses automatically. "I need to go back but I—"
"You... You want to go back?"
No. No, I don't. I want to be where you are. But I can't make myself say the words.
"Did... Did Carter say something to you? Did he convince you to come back?" His voice sounds tight and it breaks me even more.
"No." I pull out of his arms. "No. Carter couldn't take me from you." Saying the words out loud made me realize how true the statement was.
"Then what's the matter?" His brow furrows and he looks slightly tortured. "Did I push you too far tonight? You could've told me no. You could've told me you didn't want to. You didn't have to touch me. You didn't—" I place my hands over his lips, silencing him.
"There's nothing that happened tonight that I regret in the least. Everything that happened between the two of us I wanted." His eyes are searching mine like they don't believe me, like he feels guilty. "Boston, I'm serious. I loved what happened. You have no idea what it meant to me." I close my mouth at my admission, feeling extremely nervous and embarrassed.
"You have no idea how happy I am to hear that, Cherry." His eyes search my face as both hands come up to wipe the tears away from my eyes. "Why the waterworks? Why do you want to leave me?"
"Leave you?" I palm his cheek. "That's entirely the problem, Boston. I don't want to leave you."
"I don't understand then."
"My dad called." I blow out a long breath and take my hand away from his cheek before continuing. "He made a deal with the dean for me to come back sometime next week so that I don't lose my academic scholarship." I worry my lips a bit before stating, "and somehow he knows what you look like and saw a picture of the two of us, one where you're apparently kissing me?"
"Shit." He furrows his brow at that. "I just posted a picture of the two of us. Fuck. I don't know how your fucking dad saw it though."
"Which picture?"
He grabs his phone from his pocket and searches through it before handing it to me. I can see why my dad would be furious but the picture does nothing but make me happy. Boston has his arm wrapped around me and both of my arms are wrapped around him. His lips are planted on the top of my head. I hadn't realized he'd done that.
"I think we look good together." His statement has my eyes flickering up to his.
"I think so too." I hand the phone back to him. "You really only ever put pictures of your work up. Maybe the occasional selfie."
"You've been snooping?" I don't respond to that, which makes him laugh. "I don't care, Mon. I thought that picture was worth posting. I uhm, I wanted people to see us together."
"Why?" He shrugs and looks away. "You wanted people to see us together or you wanted Carter to see us together?"
"Same difference."
"It's not."
"Yeah, okay, I wanted your dickhead ex to see us together. I wanted him to see it and know that even when I drop you back to school that you're not his anymore." He runs a frustrated hand through his hair. "Your not his girl anymore."
"I'm not?" His head whips to the side, glaring at me. "What? It's just a question."
"No, you're not." He grabs ahold of one of my hands and brings it to his mouth before placing a kiss on it.
I feel a stupid smile plaster itself on my face before saying, "then whose girl am I?"
"You tell me."
I'm yours.
I don't say the words out loud because the look in his eyes tells me he already knows.
A/N:
Another update!?
Yes, these two won't stop talking in my head. Sooo happy Saturday!
How do you think Seth (Monica's father) saw the picture?