If he hurt her... if he forced himself on her... he’s dead fucking meat, I swear.
It’s hard to keep the questions on the tip of my tongue from spilling over. The only reason I haven’t asked yet is the contemplative look on her pretty face. If anything did happen, talking about it won’t be easy, especially with someone she only met a few days ago, so I let her get the words out at her own pace.
She rolls onto her stomach, pushing herself up on her elbows. “I was very immature for my age. Naïve. Most of my friends lost their V-cards before they turned fifteen.”
“There’s nothing immature or naïve about waiting untilyouare ready, Addie. It’s more mature than giving in to peer pressure.”
“I guess... To cut a long story short, Grant was twenty-one and I refused to have sex, so... you can probably guess the rest.”
My pulse hammers away, my muscles seizing. Jesus... I’ll break his fucking hands first. It doesn’t matter how long ago this happened or howokayAddie seems. Grant’s getting the kicking of his life. I set the bottle aside, pumping my fists, fury engulfing my mind.
Staring at her bottle, oblivious to the change in atmosphere, Addie resumes her story. “I saw the signs, but I was so fascinated that he actuallylookedat me I ignored them all. I was scrawny back then. No shape, no confidence... an ugly duckling.” She sighs, taking another long sip of beer. “When I caught him red-handed, there was no pretending. Though he did try theit’s not what it looks likeline.”
“Jesus...” I grunt, the knots in my muscles slackening a little. “Fuck, Addie, you should’ve led with that. I had way worse in my head just now, and very detailed ideas on how I’d disembowel the fucker.”
She looks up with an adorable frown, then her eyes grow wider once she realizes what she’d unintentionally implied. “Oh God. I’m sorry. No, he didn’t dothat. He never hurt me. He was pushy, but always understoodno.He’s just a cheating swine.”
“Does your mom know about this?”
Addie nods, sadness coating her next words. “Yeah, she does. She claims he was a kid and he’s changed.”
He wasn’t a kid. He was an adult perfectly capable of keeping his dick on a leash. Conor was twenty-one when he met Vee. Cody was twenty-two when he found Blair, both of them got married and are still going strong. Age isn’t an excuse. It doesn’t define a person. Their actions do. Cheating on a sixteen-year-old girl because she won’t put out is fucking low.
Cheating is always fucking low.
To this day, I still haven’t fully forgiven my father for cheating on Mom all those years ago. She did, but I don’t think I ever will. I have six brothers and none of them have ever cheated. It’s not that fucking difficult.
“What did he say when you caught him?”
She laughs softly, the sound so genuine my heart stutters with a weird pirouette. “Apart fromit’s not what it looks like, he said he only loved and wanted me, but he had needs. He swore he’d stop once I was ready for sex.”
“How very nice of him.”
“That’s what I said!” She laughs harder. “He begged me for weeks before giving up. I don’t know what deal he struck with my mother to make her so adamant I marry him, but she invited him to my eighteenth birthday party and he showed up with a ring.”
“Please tell me you shot down his proposal.”
“In front of almost two hundred unsuspecting guests.” She beams, handing me her empty bottle. “Then again, and again, and again... I’ve lost track at this point, but we must be at half a dozen rejected proposals by now.”
She goes on, listing every occasion when Grant popped the question, while we wait for the food. The appetizers arrive first; she laughs some more at the cringe on my face and I catch myself thinking I found a new favorite sound. Who thinks shit like this after four days?
Addie ordered traditional English cuisine since, obviously, I’m such a fan...
We spend over an hour eating, talking, getting to know each other better, and trying to guess what tomorrow’s task is. The conversation flows, no awkward silences, or uncomfortable topics. I lap up every word she speaks.
There’s a lingering curiosity around her. Like there’s a question right on the tip of her tongue but she keeps changing her mind about asking it.
I’m pretty sure I know what she wants to know. If she asks, I’ll tell her, but I won’t volunteer the story.
“What did you enjoy most so far?” Addie asks when the waiter clears our plates. “Don’t tell me it was all bad.”
I rearrange a few cushions so I can comfortably rest my head. “Not all of it. Just most of it. Cottage pie was alright, but that soup... be glad it’s staying down.”
“You only had a spoonful!”
“More than enough.” I wash the memory of the pea and ham soup down with beer. “So what’s for dessert?”
She pinches her lips, clearly amused. “Spotted dick.”
