The Fling (18+)

Chapter 31

That night, laying in bed listening to the low chirping of crickets and the soft hum of the wind, I felt my stomach tying itself into knots.

Should I call Mom?

The words rose out of the roaring static of my mind, the one coherent thought amidst an ocean of noise.

What could she say that she hasn't already?

It's not like she could offer a magical fix for this situation - no time machine was going to appear to undo what had been done.

I shivered, cold despite the quilt.

Jess's relationship with my father had already been fucked up by several metrics, but this...

"How was I supposed to tell him, 'no'?"

...this went beyond anything I had expected-

-or been prepared to deal with.

A nauseous pressure ballooned in my belly, and as I swallowed, I tasted bile.

My eyes turned in the direction of their shared room. In the absence of better ideas, Mom's suggestion of offering support and hoping that Jess would ask for help was the least awful solution I had.

Offer support?

I snorted.

What kind of support could I, the apartment-dwelling, barely-graduated stepdaughter, reasonably offer Jess? I wouldn't even know where to start.

She'd end up sleeping on my couch.

Grimacing, I rolled over, fully aware of my helplessness and hating it.

In the distance, a car door shut, catching my attention. Moments later, I heard the sharp scratch of a key in the lock before loud, drunken voices spilled into the foyer.

Dad's voice carried the farthest, telling the others to call the taxi back, urging them to go out for one more round of drinks.

Bruce and Adam must have talked him out of it, because shortly thereafter, a parade of footsteps climbed the stairs before separating into their respective bedrooms.

I listened as Adam locked his door, failing to be sneaky as he crossed through our shared bathroom and appeared in the doorway, eyes lighting up when they found mine.

The mattress dipped as it accommodated his weight. Watching him settle in, I saw his broad, appreciative smile as he cuddled up against me.

"Hey, beautiful." The hoppy scent of beer perfumed his breath, and I noticed the unopened water bottle in his hand.

Brushing down a mussed piece of his hair, I prompted, "Maybe you should drink some of that?"

"Later," he grinned, reaching over to set it on the nightstand. "Right now, I'm thinking that it has been hours since I've tasted your sweet little pussy, and it's time to remedy that."

He reached for the waistband of my sleep shorts and, while a part of me wanted to give in to his playful energy, another part of me couldn't stop hearing the echo of Jess's confession.

"How was I supposed to tell him, 'no'?"

"Actually," I placed my hand over his, stilling it, "Would you mind if we didn't?"

Looking up, his unfocused gaze met mine, "Is something wrong?"

"It's just..." I sighed, leaning my head back to stare at the ceiling, "I'm worried about Jess."

"Oh?"

Frowning, I wrestled with how much I was prepared to tell him - how much I was prepared to speak aloud. "She had a little too much to drink and she said some stuff that... concerns me."