3. Addison
Addison
This isn’t home.
I’ve lived in the house Mom shares with her new husband, Lloyd, for a week now, and I hate it. I want my room at my dad’s—my childhood bedroom. This place feels like a tomb.
Plus, it’s always cold here. The furniture is minimal, there’s no carpet to warm your feet on, and it echoes too loudly for my liking.
I miss Dad, his wife, Mei, their baby twins, and Cason.
“You’re up early,” a deep voice says as I enter the kitchen.
Forcing a smile to my lips, I turn and greet my new stepfather. “Just want to have time to grab an iced coffee and get a good parking spot at school.”
Lloyd nods and studies me, eyes narrowed as if to pry inside my brain. He’s a lawyer and every conversation I’ve had with the guy feels like he’s cross-examining a witness at a murder trial.
He’s not attractive like my father. I know Mom was far more interested in this man’s success and the name he’s made for himself than his looks.
Lloyd is balding so he shaves his head with a razor each day as if he meant it to be that way.
But, when you look closely, you can tell there’s zero hair up top.
“How are you liking Brown High?” he asks, head tilting slightly, eyes never unlatching from mine. “Anyone giving you any trouble?”
“It’s great,” I say quickly, smiling wider than feels natural. “Everyone’s so nice.”
He makes a chuffing sound as if he can’t believe it. “Well, you let me know if that changes. I’d be happy to have a talk with the principal.”
I don’t know much about Lloyd, but I do know I don’t want him doing something Dad can easily do if I need him. It’s a nice gesture, though. Mom certainly doesn’t worry about my wellbeing.
“Where’s Mom?” I ask, noting she’s nowhere to be found.
“Breakfast with Rhett. I’ve been encouraging her to mend their relationship. She’s a grandma now and I know she wants to see the baby.”
I highly doubt she wants to see Rhett’s baby, Buck.
Rhett’s Team Dad since the divorce which I know annoys her.
Plus, Rhett made waves at our country club when he slept with his fiancée’s sister, Abby, and got her pregnant.
There was all kinds of family drama involved with that.
It embarrassed Mom, so it’s surprising to me that she’s trying with Rhett.
Maybe Lloyd is actually good for her and isn’t so bad after all.
“When Cason comes to stay for the weekend, maybe we can all go to Smoke & Sugar. I know you all love that place,” Lloyd suggests. “My treat.”
“Sounds fun,” I lie as I grab a banana and head for the door. “See you later.”
Guilt at lying about wanting to hang out with my stepdad claws at me as I slide into my Audi RS-7. It’s a hand me down from my mom who got a new car this summer. It’s sleek and fast which I like but sticks out like a sore thumb at my new school.
My phone buzzes after I get the car started. I groan, hoping it’s nothing bad.
Nick: I saw the picture that caused all the trouble. Nice rack.
Blood rushes in my ears and my face turns hot.
Me: Who showed it to you?
The cops told me I was to report it if the picture started circulating because of my age at the time of taking it.
Anyone in possession of the photo could get into a lot of trouble for having child sexual abuse material.
When everything blew up and I told the cops it had to be Lucy, she was able to prove she didn’t have the photo on her device.
Nick: It was Mr. T. Caught him jerking off in the boys’ bathroom looking at it.
He’s such a liar. I hate Nick. There’s a reason I never wanted to date him.
Me: This is harassment. I’m blocking you now. Hope your nose doesn’t get broken again today.
It’s a threat, but I want him to know he can’t get away with this.
Before he can respond, I block him and then text Cason to tell him all about it.
On the way to school, I try not to panic about Nick’s text.
Even though it sucks being at a new school, I am thankful to be away from my old one when all this went viral.
Having to face the public shaming and mockery with people I grew up with would have been much harder.
At Brown High, people know, but I don’t care as much with strangers.
What about the teachers?
Mr. Langford’s face materializes in my mind. Kind, vibrant green eyes. Gentle demeanor. Cute smile.
Ugh.
Shame washes over me for even thinking his smile was cute. If I didn’t know the truth about what happened with Mr. Thompson, I’d think I have issues with crushing on teachers. But, since Mr. Thompson was fabricated by Lucy, this is technically the first time I thought a teacher was attractive.
Oh, so Mr. Langford’s attractive now?
I’m able to put it out of my mind while I grab my iced coffee at my favorite place and find a good parking spot up front at the school. As I shut off the car, I can’t help but think about Mr. Langford’s concerned expression when he saw me sitting in my car yesterday afternoon.
I sigh heavily as I grab my stuff and climb out of the car. Yesterday was just stressful. I’m sure today, I’ll look at him and realize he’s just another teacher. Not cute at all.
A guy in a pickup truck nearby rudely eyefucks me as I walk toward the school.
Suddenly I’m self-conscious of what I’m wearing.
It’s weird not wearing a uniform each day.
Absently, with my free hand, I tug at my probably too-short shorts’ hem.
These are my favorite pair because they make my golden-tanned legs seem longer and really accentuate how cute my butt is.
My T-shirt is black and cropped just enough you can see my stomach if I lift my arms. It used to be one of Cason’s rock band shirts, but I stole it, cut it, and made it mine. Looks better on me anyway.
Feeling a little more confident, I lift my chin and make my way inside the stinky school building. Coach Long, like yesterday, stands sentry at his door, glowering at all who pass. I offer him a friendly smile to which he ignores.
Someone mutters the word, “Slut,” when I pass. Before I can even flinch, Coach Long overhears and saves the day.
“Detention, Carter. Today.”
I glance over at Coach Long and give him a grateful smile. He nods slightly but doesn’t smile back. When I reach the classroom, the door is locked and it’s dark inside.
The greenhouse.
I’m looking forward to playing in dirt again today.
Yesterday, it was a cool break from reality.
At my private school, they were heavily focused on white collar career education, so we had plenty of finance, law, and even medical electives.
No shop classes or home economics or agricultural education.
When I step inside the greenhouse, the space is only a quarter full of students.
Mr. Langford has his back to the class as he shuffles through supplies in one corner.
As I take my seat at the picnic table, I can’t help but sneak a peek at him.
I’m a people watcher and there’s something about him I’m curious of.
Where Coach Long wears athletic pants and T-shirts, Mr. Langford is in crisply starched gray slacks, black loafers, and a white long-sleeved dress shirt that he’s rolled the sleeves up on.
His chocolate-brown hair is cut neat on the sides and a little longer up top.
I note that he’s not as broad as Coach Long, but you can tell his back is muscular based on how his shirt stretches across his form.
A flash of heat dances over my skin.
Stop looking at him and noticing every little detail. These kids around you already have enough to talk about. Don’t give them more ammo.
As I wait for the rest of the class to arrive, I ignore my buzzing phone and let my mind wander to that embarrassing day in the dean’s office.
The entire situation was awkward for everyone involved.
I couldn’t even look at Mr. Thompson knowing he’d seen me without my shirt and most of my breasts showing.
Even if it was against his will, he still saw me half naked.
When our eyes met for a brief moment, his face turned redder than a tomato and he made a sour expression as if I disgusted him.
“Good morning, Addison.”
I snap my head up to meet the warm, inviting green eyes of Mr. Langford. The memory of my humiliation quickly fades as I admire his smile. He really does have a cute smile.
“Hi.” I bite on my bottom lip, so I don’t start yammering to him. Anxiety makes me yap sometimes.
His eyes narrow and his features tighten as he zeroes in on my mouth. I release my lip from my nervous grip and taste the metallic flavor of blood. He steps away to grab a tissue and returns to hand it to me.
“Everything okay?” he asks, voice low enough for only me to hear.
I take the tissue and accidentally touch his smooth fingers. It sends a shiver down my spine despite the warmth of the sun shining in through the windows. Quickly, I dabble at the small cut I inflicted on myself.
“It will be,” I say honestly, releasing a resigned sigh. “I’m trying.”
His eyes flicker with unmasked curiosity. Like he wants to know what I mean. “I understand that all too well. We gotta take it day by day. Sometimes even hour by hour.”
“Lately, it’s minute by minute.”
He winks at me. “That works too.”
I’m glad he walks away after that friendly wink because it affects me more than it should. It’s gratifying in some way. Like maybe I’m not the leper I think I am.
Until he finds out the truth about you…
Then he probably won’t ever speak to you again.
It wasn’t a fear until now, but it’s a reality. If Mr. Langford finds out about why I moved schools, he might avoid me like the plague for fear of rumors or what I might “send” to him. This sends my heart into a frantic cadence. A trickle of sweat makes its way down my spine.
A massive guy who must play football for as big as he is takes the seat right beside me on the bench. His weight makes the wood creak in protest. I don’t want to be rude, but his closeness makes me want to skitter away from him.
“Hey,” he says in greeting. “I’m Duke.”
“Addison.” I flash him a fake smile. “Nice to meet you.”
When I glance over at Mr. Langford, he’s watching us with a blank expression on his face. I have the urge to cry out to him that I don’t want to sit right next to this behemoth. But why would he care?
Class finally begins and we get swept up in the lesson.
We’re planting more things today which is fine by me.
Our picnic table gets super messy because Duke’s hands are the size of dinner plates.
He might be able to throw a football or tackle someone, but his fingers were not made for planting in small pots. It’s almost comical how filthy he is.
Someone texts me again and my watch lights up.
Unknown Number: Heard you’re trying to fuck Coach Long.
I freeze, disgusted by the text that’s probably Nick since I blocked him. Not only is Coach Long married, and I would never with a married man, but it’s simply not true. I’m considering replying back to this coward, but then I feel it.
A warm, massive, filthy palm on my bare thigh.
I whip my head over to find Duke smirking at me. His meaty hand squeezes my entire thigh. When I grab onto his wrist to stop him, I realize he’s too strong to physically remove him from my person.
So, I do the only thing I can think of.
I grab two of my pots and dump them over his head.
At least it makes him remove his hand, even if he is whining like a terrible toddler that I messed up his hair. Luckily, the bell rings, and he bolts from me. A few classmates snigger my way but follow after him.
“Addison. Stay after, please.”
I freeze, ignoring a few perverted remarks from another couple of kids as they leave. It’s not until the greenhouse is empty that I realize I’m shaking.
“What happened just now?” Mr. Langford asks, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m sure it was warranted, but I want to know why you did what you did.”
I slide out of my seat and rise to my feet. Mr. Langford’s eyes cut down to my dirty thigh. When I glance down, I notice an obvious handprint.
“I see,” Mr. Langford clips out, voice sharp like a blade. “Are you okay?”
My eyes water and I nod, finally meeting his intense green eyes. “I will be. I handled it this time.”
Without a word, he walks over to a shelf and removes a packet of wet wipes. He plucks a few from the package and hands them over to me. That’s twice now today he’s had to take care of me.
Now I’m blushing furiously.
“I know what I want to do with that oaf,” Mr. Langford practically growls, “but I want to know what you want to do. It’s clear you’re going through some things, and I don’t have the full picture. I don’t want to make things worse for you.”
I’m grateful for his perception.
I swipe all the dirt off my thigh and then toss the used wipes in the bin. “He got the message,” I say, voice tight. “He can’t put his hands on me. Not without a fight.”
Mr. Langford grins brightly, revealing all his pretty teeth. “Good girl. Don’t let them win.”
Good girl.
Ugh.
Why does that make my stomach flutter?