¶𝗥𝗼𝗰𝗸 𝗕𝗼𝘁𝘁𝗼𝗺 [H.S]

1.5

I was left all hot and bothered. But who wouldn't be? She had a way of making me feel so uncomfortable in my own skin, that it was turning into an addiction. I liked how easy it was for her to push me to the edge, give me those tingling feelings, and make me feel on top of the world only when I'm with her and when I am not - as if I'm smaller than the ants. And yet it was in a comforting way, you know? I liked being dependent on someone. She was the morning sun I was ready to get through the loneliest, scariest night if it meant I'd get a glimpse of her. And sometimes the sun was tearing your eyes, sometimes it was burning your skin. But then again, the light of it was so warm against your skin like a kiss in the middle of August, when the sun was setting down. And sometimes if you gave into it, gave every single breath and every single liquid no matter if it came out of your eyes, pores, or your fucking cunt - it was draining. Yet, regardless if you did or didn't give every piece of yourself to fly closer to it; to feel what Icarus felt while the Sun gave him just a part of his warmth and he closed his eyes to the melting wings so he could feel more of it. What I'm trying to say is, if you lose yourself to the love of it the Sun won't stop shining. If anything, it would shine brighter... for someone else. And I felt comfort in giving her all of me just to see her shine. The idea of fighting to win something so pure-looking, yet so powerful was comforting. And I liked that.

''Dad, how do we look?'' she spoke, turning three-eighty to show the outfit she had picked up.

The Uber was long called and while waiting for the car we got into an awkward encounter with Mr. Parker. We were about to leave when he came to give Aiden some money and his face dropped. And, well, he had a point. The dress she was wearing was short, just an inch under her ass, and she pulled it up to get it in this condition. It was tight and short and under certain lighting - see-through. She looked hot, very hot but it was quite hard to ignore how old the dress made her look. And her light makeup wasn't doing her any favor. But to wear something like that you needed confidence and she had it all. 

''You girls--'' he began trying to find the right words that didn't have a second guess meaning. '' you look pretty.'' His gaze was upon us as a hawk as he spoke unsure of his wording. Suddenly my clothes felt too tight on me, too itchy, and I could feel all the wrongs with them. My hands went over my chest to cover the part I was more unsure about but the words that found a way to turn my stomach upside down were already two moves ahead of me: ''But, like, you're not old enough for that look,''

''It's just a dress!'' Aiden bit into the conversation.

But it wasn't just a dress. It was the way her body stretched the material so it could sit perfectly on her shape, it was the way she moved in it - lustfully. It was the way it showed everything he was trying to hide to keep her safe. But she wasn't his little girl anymore, she was making her own choices. And she wasn't thinking about how everyone else would pursue her or what could breeze through some fucked up brains. She was only thinking about how it made her feel, how comfortable it was for her, and how fucking good it looked on her. But then again, we weren't living in a time where she could feel good about herself in a dress without showing her skin, instead of her beauty. And, well, her skin was what was beautiful about her, right?

''A dress you say but one drink spilled over and it shows everything,'' he pointed out with a finger as I started wondering how tight I had to have my arms wrapped around my chest not to feel bad. "and Molly, I can see your nipples.'' he didn't even turn to look at me, nor did I caught him looking at my chest but somehow it was as if highlighted.

Aiden's face was saying it all - disappointment. But I knew, or at least hoped, she was looking at the picture from his point of view. And she didn't have to tell him how she felt, he already knew. After all, he was a father of a girl for seventeen years now. God, I wish I could relate. Somehow the physical presence wasn't fulfilling. But then again, I guess I was lucky. After all, I was representing - no, living the American dream. The ultimate cool girl needed some daddy issues, after all? It's moments like this when I realize society is put together for men.