“What did you say to Lilah? She looks pissed.”
“Nothing, she must be PMSing.”
From the corner of my eye, I notice Cin leave the house.
“Anyway, thanks for the girl talk, but I have to take a piss, unless you want to come with me.”
“I’ll pass.”
“Damn and I was so looking forward to continuing this conversation.”
It’s time for me to catch my girl alone.
Art is making it really awkward to be in the same room with him. He’s basically telling everyone here without words that he wants to spread my legs open and go berserk on my pussy. Trevor and I sit at one of the rectangular tables my aunt rented. The spacious living room has been transformed. Ricky and Thomas moved all the furniture into a storage shed. The expression of happiness on my mom’s face was priceless when the blindfold was removed and everyone yelled surprise. She will always remember her thirty-eighth birthday.
“I swear if this wasn’t your mom’s party, I would knock his eyeballs right out of his head.”
“It’s not a big deal.”
“Yes, it fucking is. He’s always watching you, like you’re a big, juicy steak.” Trevor pops a fried catfish nugget into his mouth.
“In a few more months, we’ll never see him again.”
Those words cause a pinging sensation in my chest.
“Has he ever tried to fuck you?”
“No. Don’t be stupid.” I’m surprised I don’t look like Pinocchio by now.
“Don’t lie to me.”
“He hasn’t.”
He stares at me so long I think he’s going to press the issue. “I’m going to get some more food. Do you want anything?”
“No.”
Firstly, even if I wanted to end it with Art, he wouldn’t let me. Secondly, avoiding him would be impossible since we live in the same house. Lastly, I know this makes me lower than dirt, but I’m not ready to end it with him. I want them both.
“Have you seen Lilah?” Katrina asks as she walks towards me.
“Not for some time. Do you need help with something?”
“Can you be a darling and grab your mother’s birthday gift from the main house for me?”
“Sure. Where is it?”
“I left it on top of the dresser in my bedroom. You can’t miss it.”
“I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“Thanks.”
“No problem.”
I could use a bit of fresh air and a reprieve from Art’s piercing gaze, so I gladly leave the guesthouse. When I step through the front door of the main house, hands latch onto my breasts from behind and warm lips brush along my neck. The door is slammed shut.
“Art,” I moan.
