The Garavaglias

Chapter 12

All I could feel was absolute mortification when my lips tore away from Beau's only for my eyes to lock with his mothers blue eyes. Eyes exactly like his, deep with a hint of mischief. She looked shocked, and smug. Mostly smug. Beau pulled his fingers out of me, stuffing his hands into his pockets. He resembled a six year old that was just caught stealing cookies from the kitchen, it would've been comical had I not of had my skirt hiked up around my waist. I coughed, standing up and running my hands along the fabric, stretching it back down my thighs. My cheeks were pink and my palms were beginning to sweat.

"Well, I should have called before I popped in. I didn't realize you were... busy." She said, a smile playing at her full lips. Beau cleared his throat letting out an uncomfortable laugh and awkwardly leading us back to our desks.

"Is there any particular reason you've 'popped' by?" He said, his voice cracking.

"Well, I wanted to make plans for dinner tonight, that is if you're not tied up later." I couldn't see her face considering I was sitting at my desk and she was facing Beau's, but I knew she was smirking. I mentally groaned and placed my head into my hands, hoping that if I rubbed my eyes hard enough I would wake up from this nightmare.

"You can come as well Summer." Sylvia chirped over her shoulder. Definitely not a bad dream.

"I can't, I'm super busy later.. rearranging my apartment. Thanks though, maybe next time?" Yea, next time, when you're sons' fingers aren't third knuckle deep in my pussy.

"Yes, I do hope so." She said, throwing me a quick smile.

"What time mom?"

"Seven, don't be late." She scolded. Beau scoffed.

"You were late last time," he pointed out, "and do you plan on actually eating anything tonight?"

"Of course dear. I will see you then, yes?"

"Yes." He responded, standing to walk her out.

"See you another time Summer?" She smiled, giving me a small wave and gracefully exiting the room.

"Of course!" If I ever heal from this trauma.

Beau closed the door behind him and turned to look at me. I moaned out loud, placing my forehead on the desk. "That was so embarrassing, oh my god." I said, my voice muffled by the wood. I hoped I'd suffocate and die. I mean, what did I think was going to happen? The public office doors would be locked? That no one would ever walk in? God, I was so stupid.

"I'm sorry." Beau breathed out, I lifted my head up to face him, he looked amused, with his arms crossed over his chest.

"Oh fuck you, you're enjoying this." I said, flipping him off. He laughed and shook his head.

"You think that's the first time I've been caught by my mom?"

"Jesus, how old are you again?" I scoffed. My cheeks still hadn't returned to normal color might I add.

It was nights like these when my thoughts consumed me. Nights spent alone with a bottle of wine. It was easier to hear the voices (that I'd so often blocked out) when I was surrounded by silence. Images of my past crept into my mind so effortlessly even after years of repression. My fathers face flashed across my memory. The countless nights of him sneaking into my room after my mother was passed out. I shuddered, pouring more wine into my glass and taking a generous gulp. I remembered the night our maids son found us. Me whimpering under my father. Matt ripped him off and punched him so hard his fists were bruised for weeks. My mother kicked him out after finding out what was going on but never divorced him, and later moved back in with him after I'd left the house. I could never forgive her for that. Months later, I'd thanked Matt when I was ready to face him. We'd developed a friendship, and sure enough I gave him my virginity under a willow tree in my parents backyard. It was almost my way of showing gratitude. I didn't regret any of it. A piece of me would forever belong to Matt, my savior and my first love. But like all first loves, it had to end, although we still communicated after from time to time. I couldn't even show my face at his mothers funeral because I was too broken, too fragile, and that's when we really lost contact. I'd probably always regret that. I mindlessly poured more wine into my glass, lost in my thoughts. My soft sniffling tore me out of the trance I was in and I realized I was crying. I wiped my eyes just as a knock sounded at the door. I jumped, a little worried about who it might be at this time of night. I stood up pulling my fuzzy blanket tightly around my shoulders and slowly walked to the door, careful not to let the stranger know there was anyone home. I sure didn't want become a victim on an episode of Criminal Minds. I held my breath and wearily peaked through the peephole. I exhaled a sigh of relief when I realized it was just Beau. I swung the door open,