23. Teddy
CHAPTER 23
TEDDY
I didn’t throw up at any point during my run with Mascen this morning, which I take as a win—even if it still feels like my lungs are on fire with every breath I take.
He didn’t push me to talk either, which I appreciated. That’s the great thing about Mascen. Dude hates talking, so even when he knows you’ve got a lot on your mind, he doesn’t push you to speak.
After the run, I went back to my dorm to get ready for this evening—aka another torturous dinner with my parents.
“You’re looking snazzy.” Jude looks up from his phone when I exit my room.
“Only the best for the ‘rents,” I mutter, making sure my belt is centered and my tie is knotted perfectly.
“Fuck, I’m glad my family isn’t like that.”
Jude comes from a wealthy family too, but from the way they act, you wouldn’t know it. His mom is the CEO of a major retail company, while his dad stayed home with him and his brother and sister growing up. Any time I’ve met them, they’re dressed normally—not the constant black-tie affair my parents aim for—and incredibly kind, not full of themselves at all.
“Maybe they can adopt me,” I remark, grabbing an orange juice bottle from the fridge. “Are your parents looking to add an almost twenty-two-year-old to their family?”
“I’ll inquire on your behalf,” he quips, kicking his feet up on the coffee table. “Speaking of,” he cranes his neck so he can see me, “what are we doing for your birthday?”
“Nothing,” I growl quickly and forcefully, hoping to shut down future inquiries with the one word.
“Ah, come on,” he cajoles, swinging an arm out, “we have to do something.”
“No, we don’t.”
Last year, I woke up wreaking of alcohol with some other unknown substance coursing through my veins and two naked chicks in a hotel bed.
“Come on, dude. You only turn twenty-two once.” He starts humming the Taylor Swift song. “I’m sure Cree won’t mind if we have it at his place.”
“I’d rather hang out with Vanessa.”
And I would. Despite the fact she continues to remind me we’re not actually together, she’s quickly become one of my favorite people. A night in binge watching her favorite show and eating some pizza or whatever sounds way more enjoyable than a party.
What the fuck is happening? Who am I?
I think I might need a lobotomy because clearly, I’ve lost my sanity.
“Bring Vanessa,” he reasons easily.
“I don’t want a party.” I comb my fingers through my hair, ignoring the pit in my stomach that forms every time I have to engage with my parents.
“What if we go away for a weekend,” he continues, undeterred. “A bunch of us guys and girls. It could be fun.”
“Maybe.” I scrub my hand down my face. “I have to go.”
“Great, I’ll find a place and get it booked.”
“That’s not what I?—”
“La, la, la,” the douche ignores me.
I don’t have time to argue with him, though. I’m already running late.
By the time my Porsche screeches to a stop in front of Vanessa’s dorm, she’s already stubbornly waiting outside—to prevent me from coming up to get her—looking hot as fuck in a blue wrap dress that comes down to her knees, with long sleeves. It’s not scandalous in any way, but blood rushes to my dick despite that fact, because this girl turns me on like no other.
I take a deep breath, thinking about baby turtles and other random shit that doesn’t involve peeling that dress off of her, and hop out to open the door for her.
“I can get the door,” she protests, her dark hair curling around her breasts.
I lean in, the scent of her perfume. “Citrus and flowers,” I murmur.
“Huh?”
“Nothing,” I mutter, embarrassed I said that out loud. “And we’ve been over this, Van. I know you’re capable of getting your own door, but I want to, because it makes me feel good to serve you.”
She gives a soft laugh, pausing before she gets in the car. “Serve me, huh?”
She has no idea how much I’d love to serve and worship her. “Y-Yeah,” I clear my throat.
Saying no more, she sits down, and I close the door.
Taking a deep breath, I straighten my tie. It’s going to be a long ass night.
“You’re awfully quiet this evening, son.” My father cuts into his steak, bringing the rare bite to his lips. He pauses there, arching a brow as he waits for me to comment.
“A lot on my mind,” I say in a clear tone, despite the fact I want nothing more than to grumble at him.
There’s a twitch at the corner of his mouth, that tiny piece of steak hovering inches away from his thin lips. “You’re not failing, are you?”
It takes everything in me not to roll my eyes and snap at him. “No.”
He finally sticks the bite in his mouth. Chews. Slowly. Drawing it out. His eyes slide to Vanessa, sizing her up. “She’s not pregnant, is she?”
She stiffens beside me, shoulders straight. “She is sitting right here,” Vanessa speaks before I can, “and no, I’m not pregnant. I’m sorry to disappoint you, since I know you’re so desperate for grandchildren, and no doubt will be a fluffy bear of a grandfather, but alas, the red river is still running strong and true.”
I have to press my lips together to keep from laughing. Even my mom looks like she’s struggling not to chuckle. She presses her napkin to her mouth to hide the twitch in her lips.
My father’s face turns an unsettling shade of red. “Watch your mouth, girl.”
“Why?” She blinks innocently at him, and I fucking love how she doesn’t cower to him. She was intimidated initially but not anymore. “What are you going to do about it?”
His eyes bulge, the vein in his forehead near bursting. While a part of me wants nothing more than to laugh, the other part of me prickles in fear.
I wonder what people would think if they knew that I was a grown man and still absolutely terrified of my father.
Before he has a chance to respond there’s a crash of thunder so loud it somehow manages to penetrate the thick walls of the mansion. My mom startles, her fork clattering to her plate and the same hand flying up to press against her chest.
“Oh, my—was that thunder? I’d swear rain wasn’t in the forecast. Mae!” She calls out for one of the staff who immediately comes scurrying. “Is there a storm?”
“Yes, ma’am. Looks like it won’t be stopping until early morning. There are flood warnings.”
“Floods?” My mom pales. “Oh, Teddy. Vanessa. You must stay the night. You can’t be driving back to campus in this.” Both Vanessa and I protest vehemently, neither of us wanting to be stuck here over night, but she won’t take no for an answer. “It’s not safe. I would never forgive myself if you two were in an accident. Mae will prepare your room for you and don’t worry Vanessa, you’ll stay with Teddy, I’m not under any illusions that you two are waiting for marriage.” She winks at Vanessa who looks like she’d rather die than spend the night in my old room.
“Mom, I’m sure it’s really not that bad.” Unfortunately for me I’ve barely finished speaking when there’s another loud clap.
Fucking hell.
She purses her lips and dips her chin at the same time, and I know we’re not getting out of here tonight.
Across the table my father throws down his napkin, gets up, and leaves the room.
“I can’t believe this.” Vanessa crosses her arms, eyes roaming around my room.
“Trust me,” I eye the king-size bed, “I’m not happy about it either.”
Sharing a bed with Vanessa? That’s something I’ll never complain about it. But doing it inside my childhood prison? Fuck no.
She frowns, letting her arms drop from beneath her breasts—breasts that I was most definitely not checking out. “I’m sorry,” she murmurs softly, “I’m sure this is even worse for you.”
I shrug, moving toward the bed that’s already turned back with pillows fluffed like you’d find in any five-star hotel.
“It is what it is.” My tone is lacking any sort of care or enthusiasm. If I didn’t know my mom would be hurt if we snuck out and drove home in the storm, I’d do it in a heartbeat. “I’ll sleep on the couch.” Reaching for the pillow, I go to move it to full size sectional couch in the corner of my room in front of a fireplace with a flat screen TV.
She purses her lips and exhales. “Don’t be silly, this bed is massive. Just stay on your side. Besides, what if your mom pokes her head in in the night? Can’t have her thinking we’re fighting.” She rubs her hand over her face, and I notice the dark circles under her eyes. Once more she looks around my room with a frown.
“What is it?” I know something is on her mind.
Biting her lip, she says, “Did they have your room redone when you moved out?”
My brows furrow. “No?” For some odd reason it leaves my mouth like a question.
“It’s always looked like this?”
“I mean…” I pause, looking around and trying to see what she sees. ‘Crème’ walls as my mother called the color, dark wide plank hardwood floors layered with more ‘crème’ rugs, large windows with thick curtains so no light is let in come morning, paintings of fields and flowers and other random shit I don’t give a fuck about, and furniture all in varying shades of that blasted ‘crème’ color again, the only spot of color—if it can be called that—is the pale blue bed coverings. It’s a feminine room, that’s for damn sure, but it’s not like my say ever really mattered since my time here was always limited. “Yeah,” I finish.
Sadness clouds her face. “There’s nothing you here.”
“Nope,” I agree, no sense in arguing with her since it’s pretty fucking obvious. “This isn’t my home, Van. It never has been and never will be.”
My grandparents’ manor was far more of a home than this one ever was. My grandpa, though a serious businessman, was always kind to me and made me feel special. It often made me wonder how my father was his son, because the two seemed so vastly different.
I startle when her cool fingers touch my stubbled cheek. “You deserve more than this.” I know she’s talking about more than the room. “You matter, Teddy. You’re important.”
I bite my tongue so I don’t tell her that if that was true, she wouldn’t already be trying to erase me from her life before our agreement is even up.
“Go ahead and shower.” I nod to the bathroom. “I’ll grab you some clothes to sleep in.”
“Are you sure?”
I nod, already walking away from her. I need space, not from her, just from this place, but I’m fucking stuck so pacing will have to do.
The bathroom door clicks shut softly behind her, and I let out a world weary sigh. I fucking hate being in this house. Dinners are bad enough, but an entire night?
Searching through my drawers, I find most empty which isn’t much of a shocker, but eventually I manage to scrounge up an old shirt from my prep school that’ll work as a sleep shirt for Vanessa and a pair of sweatpants for me.
I knock and open the bathroom door to set the shirt on the counter and nearly lose my shit on the spot. The glass shower enclosure is fogged up, I can’t see anything but her silhouette, but that doesn’t mean anything to my dick which is suddenly so hard I don’t think there’s any blood left anywhere else in my body.
I should turn around promptly and leave, but I’ve never been too smart when it comes to these kinds of decisions.
She tilts her head back beneath the spray of water, and I’m forced to bite back a groan. I palm myself over my pants, tilting my head back. My body feels hot and achy, my clothes too tight.
Fuck, fuck, fuck . I have to get out of here.
I take a step out of the room and ease the door shut behind me. Leaning my back against it I take several breaths to calm the erratic pace of my heart while flooding my mind with thoughts that will get rid of my erection, or at least make it less noticeable until it’s my turn to shower and I can take care of business.
Sitting on the side of the bed, I do my best to wait patiently for Vanessa to finish up. The second the door opens, though, I lose all cool and fly past her and slam the door shut behind me.
“Someone’s gotta take a shit real bad.” I hear her remark through the door.
I’d much rather that be my problem than the fact that if I don’t blow a load soon, I’m pretty sure my balls will shrivel up and fall off. That’s not something I want to risk.
The bathroom is still steamy from her shower, a small section of condensation on the mirror wiped away. It smells of soap, but obviously it’s not Vanessa’s normal scent and I instantly dislike it. It’s too stuffy smelling. Like champagne and roses and other shit no one actually cares about.
Turning the shower on, I strip down in record speed and step beneath the spray, taking my dick in my hand. I’m aching and harder than I’ve ever been in my life. I’d like to think all these months of celibacy play into that fact, but I know it’d be a lie. It’s Vanessa. She gets me so fucking hard, unlike anyone else.
It doesn’t take me long until I’m coming, hand braced against the marble tile to hold me upright. My whole body shudders, and I struggle to remain standing. Once I’ve caught my breath, I race to wash up and get out, only to realize I’ve forgotten my sweatpants.
Fucking figures.
I brush my teeth thanks to the other fresh toothbrush laid out wrapped in plastic beside the one Vanessa already opened and used. Once my teeth have been aggressively brushed, I open the bathroom door to find Vanessa already lying in bed on her side, facing away from the bathroom. She sits up at the sound of the door opening and looks relieved to see me which fills my chest with a stupid sort of pride. I feel like a grade school kid when the only thought in my brain is she likes me .
“Lose your pants?”
Don’t do it, Teddy. Don’t do it .
“I know you like seeing me naked.” I drop the towel.
Her jaw drops, eyes bulging as she ogles my cock— Jesus Christ I’m going to be hard all over again —and slaps a hand over her eyes. “Put that thing away! It’s a weapon!”
I laugh, a true deep belly laugh, and grab my sweatpants from where I left them on a chair. Yanking them on I find that they’re a tad short—more than a tad actually, but will have to work.
“The weapon has been sheathed.”
She hesitantly lets her fingers drop. “What if I whipped my boobs out all willy nilly like you with your actual willie!”
“Then I’d be a happy man,” I quip, slipping into bed on the opposite from her.
She lets out a groan and rolls away from me to face the opposite side. “Men.”
I chuckle, pushing a button on the remote that brings up a hidden TV in the foot of the bed. Vanessa sits up once more, mouth parted in shock. “There’s a TV in your fucking bed?” Before I can respond, she points to the living area of the room. “ And there? You live in excess.”
“I didn’t decorate the room.” The obviously hangs in the air. “But it doesn’t mean I won’t enjoy the finer things.”
Vanessa rubs her lips together, seeming to contemplate something. “Can we watch Beverly Hills, 90210 ? ”
“Anything for my girl,” I blurt, reddening at how easily I said that. Vanessa, thankfully, ignores me.
I log in and put the show on where we left off, and Vanessa somehow manages to burrow further into the blankets, looking like some sort of little woodland creature in a nest.
“Comfy?”
She gives a small giggle in reply that I take as a yes.
The show starts and we’re both silenced, and somehow, despite being locked in my prison once more, I manage to actually fall asleep.
A head is tucked beneath my chin, a thick tuft of curly hair tickling my nose and soft breaths gusting against my neck. It should be the most uncomfortable position, but I find myself not wanting to move and grinning to myself instead. If Vanessa woke up right now and found herself octopused around me, she’d be horrified, but somehow in her sleep, she sought my body out for comfort in the night, and in my unconscious state, I still managed to open my arms to comfort her.
Nuzzling my nose against her freshly washed hair, I inhale the scent that’s not her normal one. I never used to think much about relationships and what came with them, not the easy stuff or the hard stuff, or even the little things in between like cuddling. But with my arms wrapped around Vanessa right now, I find that I like cuddling more than I ever thought I would.
I allow myself a few precious moments longer before I slide out of the bed, careful not to wake her. Taking soft steps across the room, I shut the door behind me quietly and take a piss before I brush my teeth. My clothes from yesterday are where I left them, and I go ahead and change into them, glad to be rid of the too-short sweatpants.
I expect Vanessa to be up when I reenter the room, but she’s still snoozing away with her arms now wrapped around my pillow and one leg thrown on top of the covers. I chuckle to myself, amused. I scribble a note, letting her know I’ll be back. The last thing I want is her leaving the room without me and getting lost. That’s exactly the kind of ammunition my father doesn’t need.
I allow myself a few more seconds to look at her peaceful sleeping face, pink lips slightly parted with light breaths. She looks so at ease and content.
Forcing myself away, I shut the door behind me and go in search of coffee. At least I don’t have to run with Mascen this morning. Thank Lord Disick for that.
Down to the kitchen I go, and my luck must be good because I don’t run into either of my parents along the way, and I know neither will be in here. Sometimes I wonder if either of them set foot in a kitchen even when they were children.
“Hey, Constance,” I say to one of the cooks. If I had to hazard a guess, I’d say it looks like she’s making some sort of scone.
“Mr. Teddy.” She smiles big and wide. “Good to see you. I didn’t know you were here.”
“Liar,” I joke, heading to the coffee pot shared by the staff. “You’re all a bunch of gossips, and I’m sure these weekly dinners have been a big topic of conversation.”
“They have,” she chortles, cutting into the dough. Across from her, Roger, another cook, merely shakes his head.
“So, what are you all saying?” I reach for a coffee mug and pour myself a cup, dumping in a mountain of cream and sugar. I need the fucking sweetness today. I fix a cup for Vanessa too, all the while waiting for an answer. Turning to Constance with the mugs in hand, I arch a brow prompting her to finally reply.
She wipes flour covered fingers on a rag and gives me a smile. “The girl … she is good for you. Just what you need. Your father…” She says no more, we both know she doesn’t need to.
“It’s good to see you, Constance.” I drop a kiss on her cheek before I head for the swinging door.
She laughs behind me. “Ever the charmer, Mr. Teddy.”
When I return to the bedroom, Vanessa is beginning to stir. She groans, stretching her arms above her head. “What time is it?”
“Almost eight.”
“Ugh.” She sits up, rubbing her temples. “I feel like I’m getting a migraine. How the hell do you wake up with one of those?”
“Take this, maybe it’ll help.” I hold out the mug to her—plain white and lacking any sort of personality, of course—and she takes it with a grateful smile.
“Bless you, kind sir.” Pushing her unruly hair from her eyes, she stifles a yawn. After a hearty sip of coffee and a moan that goes straight to my groin, she asks, “When can we blow this popsicle stand?”
I sit down on the chair in the corner of the room, putting distance between us before I do something stupid like kiss her.
“After breakfast.” I know if we sneak out before then it will lead to an argument I don’t want to deal with. “Constance is making scones,” I say enticingly when she gives me a sour look.
Stifling another yawn, she says, “I’m not sure I’m ready to face your father after dinner last night.”
“I never want to face my father.”
Her lips downturn. “You should never have to be in the same room as your abuser. That’s not fair.”
I take a couple of gulps of coffee before replying. “He’s my father. It’s not like I have a choice.”
She swipes her tongue over her lips, ridding them of a drop of coffee. “That’s not fair.”
I stand up, heading over to one of the large windows and pushing the button to open the blinds. “I know it isn’t, but what am I going to do about it? He’s my father.” Shoving my fingers through my hair, I swallow the rest of my coffee. “That’s why you’re helping me, remember? I have to get my inheritance, so I never have to deal with his bullshit ever again.”
She clutches the sheets in her empty hand, her knuckles turning white with the force of her grip. I can see the sympathy in her eyes, but I’m thankful that she doesn’t voice it. It’s not something I want to hear, because she’s not the one who needs to apologize. Not that I ever expect to hear an ‘I’m sorry’ ever leave my father’s mouth.
Taking another sip of coffee, she places the mug on the night table and slips from the bed. I try not to ogle her ass in a pair of blue striped panties poking out from beneath my old t-shirt, but it’s a colossal failure. By some miracle she doesn’t notice my gaze burning a hole into her ass and says she’s going to get ready, the door to the bathroom closing behind her.
Downing the rest of my coffee I hope the sugar hits my system fast.
Too short of a time later, Vanessa emerges from the bathroom ready to face the breakfast gauntlet.
She doesn’t complain when I take her hand and hold on tightly as we take the main staircase to the downstairs. When we reach the bottom, she gives me a reassuring squeeze and a small smile.
All my stress is for nothing because when we step into the dining room, the only person waiting for us is my mother.
The audible sigh of relief that comes out of my chest is embarrassing, but Vanessa doesn’t comment on it.
My mom smiles, her eyes glimmering with absolute delight at our clasped hands. I lean into Van, placing a kiss on her cheek before I pull out the chair for her to sit down.
“You two look well-rested,” my mom comments, setting aside her iPad where she reads the morning paper. “You had a good night, I take it?”
Surprisingly, I did—but I credit sharing a bed with Vanessa to that miracle.
“It was … fine,” I admit reluctantly.
“The bed was very … comfy.” Vanessa follows up behind me.
We exchange a look, both of us fighting laughter at our lack of enthusiasm. My mom doesn’t let it deter her.
“Glad to hear it.” She claps her hands with a smile. “Now eat up, there’s plenty.”
I grab the pitcher of freshly squeezed orange juice and pour myself a glass and then one for Vanessa. With the glasses filled, I then pile eggs, bacon, French Toast, scones, and even a waffle onto our plates. Vanessa eyes the absurd amount of food and I shrug in response. “Try a little of everything. Constance is an amazing cook.”
She shoots a tiny smile my way, then turns her attention to my mom. “Breakfast looks amazing. Thank you.” Her eyes stray to the door, and I know she’s looking for the same thing I’ve been.
“Where’s Dad?”
“He left early for the office. There was an emergency.”
My shoulders sag with relief. Beneath the table, Vanessa’s fingers give my knee a gentle squeeze. I reach for her fingers, but she’s pulled her hand back before I can.
We’ve almost finished eating breakfast, and I’m ready to get the fuck out of here when my mom drops a bomb on me.
Setting her cup of hot tea down on the table, she laces her fingers together leveling me with a look that I know means I won’t like what she’s about to say.
“Your father and I have planned a trip to Greece over spring break. We expect both of you to come of course.” She smiles at Vanessa. “Do you have a passport, dear?”
Vanessa pauses with a bite of French toast halfway to her mouth. “Uh … yeah. I was supposed to go on a trip to England my senior year of high school. It didn’t happen, but I got the passport and everything anyway,” she rambles adorably.
“Good, that’s excellent. You’ll love Greece.”
Vanessa looks at me like she’s waiting for me to say something, maybe to argue that we won’t be going, but I can’t. It’s pointless. I know I won’t win any kind of argument, so there’s no point in starting one.
Gulping down the last of my orange juice, I mutter, “Sounds great.”