Chapter 6
Chapter six
Whoops...
Stepdad/stepdaughter
I seriously have to get my own place. I still live at home with my mom and stepdad because I don’t have to pay rent here. I am twenty-one years old and in college, so I need to save all the money I can. Living in the city can get kind of expensive so I will have to make sacrifices where I can.
It’s not that living with them is bad. Mom is hardly here because she’s always away on business which I think is code for fucking her other boyfriend.
But it’s not my relationship, so it’s not my problem.
I don’t know if she is actually fucking someone else.
Dante isn’t bad either. He is just always here.
He works from home for the most part so no matter what I do, he’s here.
I thought it would be a smart idea to take online classes and also work from home so it’s just him and I all day.
I stay holed up in my room for the most part because he’s always watching sports and I have zero interest in seeing that bullshit.
Tonight I can hear a football game on. I already know that mom is probably in her office next to my room.
That’s where she’s always at, if she’s home.
For being a married couple, they never spend time together.
Mom and Dante got married when I was eighteen, so they haven’t even been together for very long either.
How he puts up with her is beyond me. He definitely deserves better than that.
He is a handsome man and could have his pick of women, but for whatever reason, he chose a bitter and grumpy workaholic bitch.
Okay, so maybe Mom and I don’t get along. She has always been emotionally unavailable to me. No matter what I’ve needed her for, she just doesn’t show up. If she is there, she’s not present.
A knock at my door makes me sigh. “Yeah?”
“Dinner is ready, Ava,” Dante says.
“I’m good.” I frown at him and look back at my computer.
“Ava,” he says with humor in his tone. He walks in and sits on my bed before shutting my laptop.
“I was using that.”
“Now you aren’t,” he says. “Come eat, please.”
“I have no interest in fighting with her. She’s in a piss poor mood which means she’s going to bitch at me for something,” I say.
“You know I always stand up for you. Please come eat dinner,” he says. “I made blackened chicken Alfredo.”
“Fuck. That’s my favorite meal too,” I say, and he laughs. “Fine, but I’m doing it for the pasta.”
“Noted,” he chuckles and stands up. I get up and follow him to the kitchen where Mom is getting her food.
“Nice of you to join us,” she frowns.
“Likewise.” I take a plate out of the cabinet and get my food when she is done.
“Salad?” Dante asks.
“Please,” I say politely. He puts some salad mix on my plate. “Thanks.”
Mom chuckles as she sits at the table, and it prompts me to close my eyes and take a deep breath. “Something funny?” I ask.
“Just interesting that you’re having salad,” she says.
“Why? Because I’m fat?” I ask with a deadpan expression.
“Hannah, stop it,” Dante says to Mom.
“Why?” she asks. “Maybe if she had more salad and less pasta, she wouldn’t be fat.”
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Dante snaps. “The girl never fucking eats because all you do is put her down. How about shut the fuck up and stop acting like a goddamn high school bully.”
“She’s my daughter and…” Mom starts to say with her voice raised.
“Just shut up and eat your food, Hannah.” he snaps. “No one is in the mood to argue with you.” Mom huffs and picks up her food before going back to her office.
“I’m sorry,” I say as I sit my food on the counter. I turn to go back to my room, but he catches me.
“Please come eat, Ava,” he says softly. “Fuck what she says." I nod and take my food to the table.
Mom has called me fat for most of my life.
My first vivid memory of it was when I was six years old, I asked for another piece of my birthday cake that our neighbor made for me.
She told me that I was already too fat and I shouldn’t even have had the one piece.
Dante gets mad at her every time she does it, which makes me feel better, but it doesn’t stop the intrusive thoughts.
I try not to eat around her because it always ends up with her criticizing me.
Even if I’m eating something that she thinks is healthy she thinks it’s funny. That is eating healthily.
She is your typical mean type. She has long legs and a skinny waist. I am short and thick. She always tells me that I took after my dad like it’s a bad thing. Sometimes I question if she’s my mom. Not that I am a saint, but I’m definitely not a cunt. This bitch could make Regina George cry.
I force myself to push away the bad thoughts and eat my food in silence. I don’t look up from my plate because I’m afraid of seeing judgment on his face. I know I won’t, but again, it doesn’t stop the intrusive thoughts.
I don’t know why I let it get to me because I know that men find me attractive.
I’m casually talking to a few different guys who I am well aware are only interested in fucking me.
I’m not really looking for a relationship though so I might let them.
Danny has been begging me for a picture of my tits all day.
I keep telling him that if he’s a good boy, I will send it.
I’m just trying to work out the courage to take the picture.
I get done eating and take my plate to the sink to wash it. While I’m here, he comes over and leans against the counter to wait for me to get done so he can do the same. I hold out my hand for his plate because I’m already here so I may as well wash it. “Thank you,” he says kindly.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” I ask. I can’t directly see how he’s looking at me, but I can feel him staring at me. I know he wants to say something, but he never does. Anytime he just stares at me, it’s like he’s lost in thought, but he actually says it out loud.
“How do you know I’m looking at you?” he laughs.
“Because I can feel you staring at me, weirdo,” I laugh. “What is it?”
“Why do you put up with her talking to you like that?”
“Because it’s all I’ve ever known, and she’s my mom. I feel obligated to not disown her.”
“Blood does not mean that she is entitled to your presence or your compassion,” he says. “What would you do if anyone else said that to you?”
“Probably punch them in the mouth then go cry alone in my room,” I say with a shrug.
“Then do that, minus the crying,” he says.
“Are you condoning me punching your wife?” I ask, looking up at him.
“If it gets her to stop being a bitch to you, why not? Everyone has to learn somehow,” he says coolly.
“I’m going to take a shower and go to bed,” I laugh and pat his arm before skipping past him.
“Good night, Ava,” he says.
“Night, Dante.”
I get back into my room and take my robe off so I can step into my underwear.
I’m going to make myself take this picture, so I choose my black lace cheeky underwear and step in front of the mirror.
My long brown hair cascades over my shoulders with a few pieces falling forward to drape over my tits.
Looking at myself, I don’t see what these guys see. I see a girl with thick thighs, wide hips, uncomfortably large breasts, and a fat stomach. I carry most of my weight in my ass, but I carry a lot in my belly as well. No matter what I do I can’t seem to get it to go away.
I look at my phone to see that Danny and Dante have texted me.
Danny: I’ve been a good boy! Are you going to keep teasing me or can I see that sexy body?
Dante: I’ll hold her down and you punch her! Seriously though, don’t listen to her.
I close out the messages and pull my camera up. I have been teasing him all day so it’s only fair that I don’t lead him on. If I didn’t want to, I would have said no. Maybe Danny will actually be decent in bed.
I take a few pictures at different angles before choosing the one I like best. I’m not going to catfish anyone so I’m not going to hide that I’m bigger. That would just be rude and set me up to get fat-shamed in person.
I quickly attach the photo before I change my mind with a suggestive comment that says, “Think you can handle it?” and hit send.
I toss my phone on the bed to pull on an oversized T-shirt.
When I hear Dante’s phone go off in the living room, the world stops and I forget how to breathe for a second.
I force my legs to work and run to the bed to see who the fuck I just sent that to.
“No. No. No. No,” I whisper. I watch as the message goes from “delivered” to “read” and it’s too late.
I just sent a nude to my stepdad. I’m panicking but I don’t know what to do.
I could just get my keys and leave. I am not above sleeping in my car.
I can’t fucking believe I just did that.
I’m normally so good at making sure I know who I’m texting.
I was in a hurry and both of their names start with the same letter.
When I hear his footsteps, I panic and back away from the door.
I expect him to knock like he always does, but he doesn’t this time.
He calmly walks in and shuts the door behind him.
His eyes darken when he sees me in nothing but a T-shirt and the underwear from the picture.
A weird mix of emotions rushes through me when he turns and flips the lock on my door and walks over to stand in front of me.
“Dante, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean…”
“Shh,” he says, pressing his finger to my lips. My brain instantly stops producing words and I go silent. “Who was that meant for?”
“Danny,” I whisper.
“Who is he?”
“Just a guy I’ve been talking to,” I answer.
“Dating?”
“No,” I shake my head. “He just wants to sleep with me. He had been asking for a picture and I wanted to feel…”
“Feel what?” he asks.
“Pretty. Wanted,” I say, bowing my head.
“You don’t feel pretty?” he asks, lifting my chin. “You shouldn’t be sending boys pictures like that.”