“Chocolate peanut butter balls,” I clarified. “My mom’s old recipe.”
He wasted no time in indulging in one, closing his eyes and moaning at the sweet taste.
A satisfied smile traced my lips. I wasn’t allowed to please him physically, but I’d certainly found other ways to. “Open the last one,” I urged.
He dug into the last gift, his mouth still full of peanut butter ball. His eyes grew wide when he finally laid eyes on it; a photo I’d taken of his Mercedes. I’d added a cool filter in Photoshop, and made it look even cooler than it already was. I’d also framed it in a sleek matted black frame I’d bought at Walmart. “This is fantastic, Abigail. I fucking love it.”
“I made it in my Media Arts class,” I said proudly.
He reached for me and gave me a perfectly socially acceptable hug. I wished it could have been closer, more intimate.
I polished off my egg nog, and we chatted for a while. He was heading out to his friend’s. They were going to a club. I asked him if he had a family, and he said that he did. Two sisters and a father who had no time for him. His father was a drunk like my dad, and I realized how much he and I really had in common. Fate had brought us together because we needed each other. It had never been any clearer than it was that night.
I didn’t want to leave, but I had to. He was going out, and if I wasn’t back by nine o’clock, my dad would be suspicious.
He gave me another squeeze just before I left. I was wrapped up in a heavy winter jacket, but still, the warmth of him filled me, made my body ache for more. “Merry Christmas, Abigail,” he said softly.
“Merry Christmas.”
And that was it.
The wind was strong and the temperature low as I trudged through the snow and rounded the corner.
My dad stopped me dead in my tracks.
He was standing there, in his warmest jacket and toque, smoking a cigarette. “What have you been up to, girl?”
I stopped breathing for a good ten seconds at the sight of him. I’d been caught. How was I going to get out of this? What excuses would I make?
I attempted to ignore him, and walked right past him, but he grabbed and jerked my arm. “What the fuck were you doing at Foster’s? I told you to stay away from him.”
“Uh… I was… I was bringing him chocolate peanut butter balls,” I told him, happy to not be lying. “Like I do everyone else.”
He shook his head, full of anger. “I think you were giving him more than peanut butter balls, girl… you little slut.”
I wasn’t,” I scoffed. “We’re just friends.”
He chuckled at that, his laugh a loud cackle. “Oh yeah… just friends… that’s a good one, Abby. He’s at least ten years older than you.”
Yes, ten years exactly.
“I know exactly what men like that want. He wants to get into your pants, Abby. And you’re too stupid to realize it. And it’s not because you’re pretty either. It’s because you’re sweet young pussy. Perverts like him love virgins,” he went on, and with every word, I sank deeper. He might as well have buried me in the snow. “Are you even still a virgin?”
I ran off, not able to take any more of his abuse.
“You’re grounded, girl,” he called out. “For a fucking month, you little slut.”
I ran and ran. I didn’t run back in the house. There was no way I was going to stay anywhere near him. I ran to Izzie’s instead.
The place I always ran to.
