14. “Standing in the Dark” - Lawson
“Standing in the Dark” - Lawson
Heath
I am the world’s most fucked twat.
I don’t know what possessed me to ask Walker to dance, but it wasn’t sanity, that’s for sure.
Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the music, maybe it was that tiny dress she was wearing, designed to drive a man insane. Maybe it was a combination of all three.
I don’t know, and frankly, I don’t care. I twist the handlebars of my bike and will the car in front of me to speed up. The only thing I want is to get home and crack one off, since there’s no way in hell I’m taking anyone to the Carlton tonight. She has fucked me through and through.
The worst part is I can’t even fuck her, despite how much I want to.
It’s still dark out, but the sun will be up in a few hours. My mind flies back to the feel of her hips under my hands, the way she gently swayed them from side to side. I swerve back into my lane when an oncoming vehicle honks at me.
Damn it. Focus, Heath.
I’m not sure whether she realized it or not, but toward the end of our dance, I could feel her nipples through the thin lace of her dress.
For a minute there, the only thing I could focus on were those perfect little peaks and what they meant.
But in typical fashion, Rhett killed the moment before anything could happen.
The house is dark when I get home. I unlock the kitchen door as quietly as I can, not wanting to wake my mum.
Does Walker still sleep like a fucking tornado, a chaotic jumble of blankets and limbs? It used to take an air horn to wake her.
I’m almost to the stairs when I run into something hard.
“Fuck!” I whisper-yell.
This is followed by a crash. I’m not as close to the stairs as I thought I was, and I’ve run into the table in the foyer, which sent one of those expensive vases to the floor.
The door to my dad’s study opens, and I freeze. Now I wish I had gotten a room at the Carlton.
“Heath? Is that you?” he says from the doorway.
“Yeah, just me.”
The light comes on, blinding me for a second. My dad is still wearing his work clothes, and they’re rumpled. His gaze drops from me to the broken vase.
“What the fuck,” he yells. “Do you have any idea how much that thing cost?”
“Sorry.” I squeeze my eyes together with my thumb and pointer finger. “I’ll pay for it.”
“You’ll pay for it? With what, your little surfing paycheck?”
“I said I’m sorry.”
He steps closer. “That’s your problem, son. You’re always sorry. But you just keep breaking everything you touch.”
He doesn’t even know the half of it.
“At least I’m not scamming the government out of their money.” I laugh as his face turns red .
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” The twanging muscles in his neck tell a different story.
“Come on, Dad. Everyone knows you’ve been committing tax fraud for years. How else do you explain owning a vase that cost a million dollars?”
I should have expected it, but the punch catches me completely off guard. He socks me right in the head, catching my left eye. Thankfully I have enough alcohol in my system to numb the pain a little and enough sense in my head to not hit back.
“Good night, Dad.” I start up the stairs.
So much for my plans to have a wank while picturing Walker with her dress hiked up around her waist. The only thing I want to do is sleep.
At least there’s one thing my dad is good for.