Chapter 5
Chapter Five
TINSLEY
T he happiness from the first day at my new job fades the instant I step inside my house. My stepmother Anne is waiting, and before I can say a word, she grabs a hold of my shoulder and drags me toward the stairs.
“Where have you been?” she hisses.
Normally no one cares where I am. Of course, the first time I’m away from home and doing something that makes me happy, she’s looking for me.
“I went to the coffee shop to work on homework,” I lie. Anne rolls her eyes at me while her nails dig in a little deeper. The feel of them makes me wince.
“Get upstairs and change. We have dinner guests that will be here shortly,” she orders before releasing her hold on me. “And take that stupid thing out of your hair. How old are you?”
“Ah!” I yelp when she snatches the bow from my hair, taking a few strands with it.
“I left a dress for you on the bed. Now go!”
I want to tell her to give me my bow back, but I know better than to push her. Instead, I hurry up the stairs like she told me to.
I’ve never been ordered to have dinner with them before. It’s strange, but maybe my father requested it. He and my stepmother tend to go out most nights. Or at least on the nights he’s home.
When I enter my bedroom, I see a black dress laid out for me. I hate that she was in my space, and I also hate the color black. The dark color makes me think of Callum and how it suits him. For me, it feels depressing.
There’s a tag on the dress, and when I see the brand name and how much it cost, my eyes widen. Whoever their guests are, my father and stepmother are pulling out all the stops.
My door swings open, and my stepsister Willow barges into my bedroom without knocking. "Mom wanted me to bring you these." She tosses a pair of heels onto my bed and then points her perfectly painted gold fingernail at me. "Don't scuff them."
"I have my own heels."
"Then tell her that." Willow stomps out of my room and slams the door behind her. As much as Willow’s mother dotes on her, she’s as likely to defy her as I am.
I pick up the heels, and I can already tell they are going to kill my feet. I have plenty of shoes that I love, but they're only an inch or two tall. My stepmother has this weird thing about height and wanting me to be taller. Willow is nearly six feet tall and has incredibly long legs.
When I toss my bag on the chair next to my bed, my phone slips out. Crap. I told Callum that I would text him as soon as I got home. Now I’ll be in trouble, which might not be a bad thing.
Today's punishment for being late was not only delicious but also torturous. I don’t know why sitting without panties on while I took notes made my body so needy. The pulse between my thighs was constant. It’s only now that I’m home that it’s lessened. When I was getting ready to leave, I thought he'd give them back. I couldn’t bring myself to ask for them, and when he didn’t mention them, I let it go. He didn’t seem fazed as he tossed them in his desk, so maybe he forgot about them.
Callum: You should have been home by now.
Me: Sorry, sir.
Callum: Don’t let it happen again.
I bite down on my lower lip. Normally, when I’m scolded, guilt consumes me, but with Callum, it's different. I don’t want to disappoint him, but for some reason there’s a bit of fun in acting out. I don’t understand my reactions to him. Heck, I don’t understand his reactions to me either.
Sometimes the way he says things sounds sexual, but it’s not. He hasn’t touched me inappropriately, though I’m dying for him to do it.
Another text pops up, but this time it's from Charlie. Charlie is the only friend I've made at my new school. She and I couldn't be more opposite, but I think I grew on her. She teasingly calls me a creeping fig, which I had to google to find out is a fast-growing vine. It’s not surprising with how much time Charlie spends gardening that she’d come up with a name like that for me.
Charlie: You good?
Me: Yeah, why?
Charlie: You didn't bug me to hang out after school.
Me: Figured you were busy.
Charlie: You know?
I snort a laugh. Do I know that she’s been secretly hooking up with the new football coach who suddenly quit? Yeah, I know.
I could see the way they watched each other. Charlie would get literal hearts in her eyes, which is not Charlie-like at all. The girl could murder someone with a glare. The first day of school she punched the quarterback in the nose. Now that is very on brand for Charlie, not heart eyes.
Me: I know.
Charlie: I wanted to tell you.
Me: I get it. It's safe with me.
It's not as though I’ve told her about my new boss or that I even got a job. I can't hold it against her, and she might have some advice for me. If anything, I know she wouldn't judge. Not with how her own love life is playing out.
I toss my phone on the bed and grab a new pair of panties before I wiggle my butt into the dress. It's too small, which isn’t shocking. My stepmother always has something to say about my weight. I ignore it because if it wasn't that, it would be something else.
My fingers run across the bows that line my vanity, and it’s irritating knowing I can’t wear them. I have every color. Or at least I did until I stepped through the door this evening. I grab the heels off my bed and put them on before exiting my bedroom. I have to grip the railing on the stairs as I slowly descend them so that I don’t trip.
Finally, I reach the bottom and see my father and Anne in the entryway greeting a couple around their age. There’s another man with them that I’m guessing is in his twenties.
“Tinsley,” my father calls to me when he sees me standing on the bottom step. He motions for me to come closer. “I have someone for you to meet.”
“Hello,” I say to the strangers as I stand beside my father.
“This is my daughter, Tinsley,” he tells them. "Tinsley, this is Lee and Sherry Ray, along with their son Carl." I take each of their hands in greeting as I recall my father talking about the Rays a few times. Something about wanting to do business with them.
“So this is the famous Tinsley we’ve heard all about.” Sherry gives me a tight smile that’s similar to Anne’s. I’m taken aback that my father has mentioned me, let alone spoken about me more than once. “She is pretty, isn’t she, Carl?”
“Very,” Carl says and smirks. His eyes roam over my body quickly, and I fight not to squirm from the uncomfortable feeling he's giving me.
“Tinsley, why don’t you get Carl a drink?” my father nudges.
“Okay, would you like a drink?” I ask, suddenly feeling awkward and like I might be missing something.
“I’d love one.”
Carl reaches out and takes my elbow, but I quickly tuck my arm tightly against my side so he has to let go. I brush it off by leading him to the den while everyone else slowly follows behind.
Now I’m beginning to realize what’s happening. All the small mentions about marriage here and there over the past few months start adding up.
This is a setup, and it feels oh so wrong.