“I filed an injunction with the website host site on Friday to release the name and information of the administrator,” my dad says to get the conversation started. “Once we have that information, we’ll be able to file a lawsuit for slander.
“Okay,” I say when it’s been quiet for too long, and no one else is contributing to the discussion.
“We need to talk about you and Crawford’s relationship.” Ford’s mom says, looking anywhere but at the two of us.
“You’re breaking up.” Mr. Cross exclaims, looking directly at Ford. His forehead creased, a frown on his face. He seems distraught.
“We said we were going to ease into the conversation,” my mom states, looking at Mr. Cross. She turns to us. “We think until this website mess is behind us, it would be best if the two of you stopped seeing each other. It’s your senior year of high school. It’s meant to be fun and exciting. All it’s been you and Ford is upsetting, drama-filled, and scandalizing.”
“You both have bright futures ahead of you.” My dad clears his throat, taking a breath. “I’d hate to see those futures ruined.”
“Ruined?” What does he mean? How does he think dating each other will ruin our lives?
Mr. Cross stands up. “The pictures on that fan website could ruin your football career.”
Ford whips his head around, looking at his mother. “Mom, you told him about the site? You promised me you wouldn’t.” He scrubs a hand through his hair. His mom slumps down, breaking into tears, not saying anything. “That’s not going to happen, dad. Those so-called pictures don’t even show our faces.”
“Oh, you’ve become a mind reader. He’s a lawyer, Crawford.” Ford’s dad waves a hand toward my dad. “You’re having sex with his underage daughter. All it would take is a phone call to the police, and your football career would be over.”
I yank on Ford’s arm, panic rising in my throat. “What’s he talking about?” I whisper.
Ford scrubs a hand down his face and leans close to me, whispering, “I’m sorry about this.” He turns to his dad. “Dad, you really need to read up on Idaho law before you threaten me with it. Statutory rape doesn’t apply to me and Hannah.”
I gasp and cover my hands over my mouth. “What? No!”
Ford puts his arm around me. “Shh, it’s okay. We’re okay.”
I turn to my dad. “Is he right? What does the law say?”
My dad sits back, scrubbing his hand across his jaw. “Ford’s right. There has to be a three-year difference between the parties involved.”
Ford’s dad stands, pacing back and forth. “It doesn’t matter. If the news caught wind and saw the website and found out Hannah was only 17 and you’re 18, it could still end badly for you, son. I’m only thinking of you.”
“I’m going to be 18 next month,” I say, trying to ease the tension.
“It doesn’t matter,” my mom says, giving me a sad look.
“Yes, it does. We didn’t have sex!” I cry, getting upset. Ford squeezes my shoulder. He knows that no matter how we plead our case, this will not work out in our favor.
“When was the last time you had sex?” I turn, staring at my dad wide-eyed and in shock. Neither Ford nor I answer.
“When?” my dad asks again.
“About a week ago.”
“Ford,” I hiss when he answers the question.
“And how can you be sure there were no pictures taken of the two of you?” my mom asks. “You thought Ford’s house with his fancy security system was safe, but someone still got compromising photos.”
I roll my eyes, annoyed. “No one took pictures,” I assure them.
“How can you be sure?” Beth asks.
Ford glances at me, and I vehemently shake my head no. This is a real-life nightmare. I shouldn’t have to be answering these questions. This is my private life.
“See, you can’t be sure.” My dad says, attempting to make his point.
This pisses me off. “No one took pictures of us because we were together at Ford’s house upstairs in the shower.” It’s not exactly a falsehood. It just wasn’t the last time we had sex, and no one could get pictures of us in there. It has a small, frosted window and is on the second floor. And no one took pictures of us in the spare room in the basement, either. But I’m not going to tell my dad we had sex in his house while he was asleep upstairs. I don’t even want to think about what would happen if he found out. My brain is overloaded, trying to think, because that’s not even the last time we had sex. It doesn’t matter. It’s no one’s business.
