“Oh. Yes. That’s right,” I exhale my words along with a handful of relief. “As a small child, yes.”
Dad sits up and dabs his napkin across his mouth. “You two have been courting now for, what, a couple of months?”
“Seven weeks,” Cortland says.
My mothers all grin and tilt their heads like he’s some romantic dreamboat.
“I think it’s time you two spent a little one on one time together,” Dad says. “Why don’t Jane and I run you down to the local ice cream shop. We’ll keep our distance, but this will at least give you two a bit more time to talk.”
Wonderful.
“That would be great, Mr. Miller,” Cortland says. “I’d love that. Bellamy?”
“Can’t say no to that.” I force another smile and drop my fork against my plate. This night needs to end. If I could blink and be in my bed alone right now, that’d be amazing.
Aside from seeing him at Bible study each Wednesday, Cortland comes over on Saturdays. He usually dotes on me for a little while and then ends up helping my father with things around the house. After that we finish the evening with a board game in the family room.
He hasn’t had an opportunity to touch me or kiss me or pin me in weeks, and he wears the expression of a sexually frustrated man aching for a chance to take me to bed and have his way with me once and for all.
That is, after all, his ultimate goal.
That also explains his territory switch at work. He wants to spend more time here. He wants to fast-track the courtship.
“Shall we head out?” My father’s plate is empty, and he motions for my mother to grab the keys to the car. “Cortland and Bellamy?”
Waverly, Kath, and Summer rise up, clearing dishes and starting dinner clean up. I’d give anything to be washing dishes right now.
***
The backseat of the car is dark, and Cortland’s hand twitches on his knee. His stare is penetrating, and I’d give anything for my father to turn around for a second and see the way he looks at me when he doesn’t think anyone will notice.
My father pulls up to the ice cream emporium and shifts his Buick into park. “All right. I’ll let you two skip ahead. It’ll be like we’re not even here.”
Yeah.
Right.
He’ll be watching our every move like some crazy, stalker dad.
Cortland walks me straight up to the cash register where he orders a scoop of chocolate ice cream in a dish for me and a scoop of mint chocolate chip for himself. He doesn’t even give me a chance to browse the fifty other available flavors, and I hate that he ordered for me.
He declines waffle bowls, which are only a fifty-cent upcharge. I’m not sure if he’s cheap, or he doesn’t think I need the extra calories. Either way, I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to eat ice cream, and I don’t want to be with him.
“Here you are,” he hands me a pink spoon and a small dish of chocolate ice cream. We find a spot in the corner, a little table for two with two connected swivel chairs. The hard plastic is just as uncomfortable as the turmoil boiling beneath my faux-façade. “Chocolate. Your favorite.”
Chocolate was my favorite when I was, like, five.
“Thank you.”
“This was kind of your father,” he says, using his skilled tongue to lick green ice cream from his spoon. His tongue used to be pure magic. Now it’s a dangerous weapon. “Maybe this’ll open up more opportunities for us to hang out solo? Like really solo.”
I shake my head. “Never. He won’t allow that.”
“Psh.” Cortland scoffs, as if to say, “I’ve got this. I can handle Mark Miller.”
“You don’t know my father very well. He’s crazy protective of his daughters’ virtues and the family reputation.”
I realize how utterly ridiculous I sound considering months ago I had no problem hopping in the backseat of a car with a random guy from church and doing everything but…
And the only reason I never had sex with Cortland was because neither of us had condoms, and I’m not on the pill, and we weren’t about to risk being seen trying to obtain such things.
I stare at deceptively handsome Cortland and can’t help but wonder if he’d be relentlessly pursuing me if I’d given it up already.
He probably wants to screw me just as bad as I want freedom.
Only one of us will win.
“This is my way of protecting your virtue, Bellamy.”
“What are you talking about?”
The door jingles and we both crank our necks to see my father walk in and head up to the counter. Mom is still out in the car. This whole thing is bizarre. He doesn’t make eye contact with us, which I’m sure is his warped way of doing us a favor by pretending we’re strangers.
He’s here, but he’s not.
We wait for my father to walk out with two banana splits before another word is spoken.
“What were you saying a minute ago?” I refuse to drop it. I want to know how the hell he thinks he’s protecting my virtue.
“Because you’re damaged goods.” He says it like he’s stating a scientific fact.
I shove my spoon in the center of the melting mound of ice cream in front of me and shove the cup away. “Excuse me?”
“Come on, Bellamy.” He cocks his head, flashing a perfect smile. “You know what I mean. You’ve…you’ve been touched. You’ve done stuff.”
“Yeah. With you.”
“Yeah, but if another guy knew? I don’t think he’d be cool with it. A guy might get the impression that you’re a loose girl.”
What is this, the 1950s?!
“What about you?” I cross my arms over my chest. “What does that make you?”
His lips pucker as he stifles a laugh. “It’s different for guys. You know that.”
I rise, unwilling to tolerate another minute across from that imbecile.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he asks.
“Throwing this away.” I grab the melting cup of chocolate grossness and trudge to the nearest trash receptacle, chucking it just hard enough not to cause a scene.
Cortland stands up and walks over to me placing his hands on my shoulders and turning us so our faces are away from the watchful eyes of my parents. “Keep sweet, Bellamy. Don’t make a scene. Remember, they’re watching us.”
He turns behind us before glancing around the small ice cream shop.
“Follow me.”
“Where are you going?” I ask.
He says nothing, but I follow him to a small alcove behind the front of the shop because what other choice do I have?
“I’ve been dying to get you alone for weeks,” he says, the second we’re hidden from view. His lips press into the flesh below my jaws, and his greedy hands slip over my breasts taking squeezing handfuls.
“What are you doing?” I push him off me with what little resistance I have against his sturdy build.
He pushes his whole body into me again, ignoring my obvious discontentment with his behavior. “Don’t you miss this, Bellamy? You, me, backseat of my car. I miss your taste, your scent, those lips wrapped around the best part of me.”
Cortland’s hips jut into mine, and I feel his hardness through the fabric that separates us.
“You’re so addictive,” he moans.
I inhale a mixture of frigid air, dairy smells, and Cortland’s cheap aftershave, but right now I’d give anything for a whiff of Dane’s cologne. He smells like fine soap and expensive leather and top shelf whiskey and the kinds of things I’d never dreamed about until I met him.
“Soon,” he breathes into my ear. “Soon, we’ll be married, and I can have all of you, all the time.”
That’s what you think.
“We’ve only been courting for seven weeks officially,” I say. “I’m not on some fast track to getting married. I still need to decide if you’re right for me.”
“The decision’s been made, sweetheart.” His hand runs from my right breast down the s-curve of my hip before settling on my backside where he gives it a commanding squeeze.
I fight the wave of tears that threaten to consume me. Powerlessness has never been a good look for me.