“Do you have time for that?”
“I can make it quick.”
“That’s disappointing,” I joke.
Ryan snaps his head up and there is a ferallook in his eyes. “Oh baby, this is just the warm up.” Then heattacks me, his tongue on a mission. I moan into his mouth, lettinghim have me; my hands raking through his hair, my body arching upto feel his.
“What’s underneath here?” he asks alluringlyas he slides his hand under my shirt. I’m dressed in my usualstudying attire, a gray Columbia sweatshirt and black leggings. Nobra.
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” I taunt.
“I would like to know, and I’m going to findout,” there’s fight in his voice as he forces my sweatshirt up, thewarmth of his hands spreading deliciously across my skin. God, Ineed him.
Just before Ryan gets a chance to pull my topover my head, my phone rings.
“Don’t answer it,” he says immediately, adecibel short of desperate.
I glance down at the screen; if it was anyoneelse calling I would have listened to him. Instead, I push Ryan offme and adjust my shirt.
“Hello?”
I sit up straight as soon as I hear hisvoice.
“Hi daddy.” I look at Ryan, who’s kneeling infront of me with lustful eyes.
“Yes, everything’s fine.” Ryan tries to kissmy neck as I talk, but I push him away.
“Here? Outside?” I try to keep my voice even,but I’m suddenly struck with terror. I get up and rush to the baywindow in my kitchen. The one that looks down onto the street. Andsure enough, there’s a black town car double-parked out front withthe hazards on.
“You want to come up?” I turn to Ryan who isnow standing behind me.
“Okay, I’ll buzz you in,” I say, and then hehangs up.
I immediately panic. Not even thinking Istart to push Ryan. “You have to hide!” I hiss.
“What?” he snaps.
“Quick, get in the closet.”
Yes, I’m twelve years old and hiding myboyfriend from my father.
“Alana,” Ryan’s voice is firm.
“Shhh,” I shove him inside just before thebuzzer rings. I hit the button to let my father in then spot Ryan’sbook bag by the door. Shit. I grab it and throw it in-between thewall and the refrigerator. I glance around my apartment making surethere’s no other evidence of him lying around.
The pounding of my heart is echoing in mychest as I open the door. My father is standing thereassertively.
“Alana,” he addresses me with no emotion inhis voice. It’s just flat. Like the liquid in a glass.
“Daddy,” I answer him, and I know my cheeksare a little too flush, “Come in.”Like I have to invitehim.He pays the rent. He steps inside my medium sizedapartment and seems out of place, like he’s too rich for my humblehome. “What are you doing in the city?”
“I have a dinner function and I thought I’dcheck in on you,” he says looking around.
Translation: I wanted to check up on myinvestment and make sure it’s doing what it’s supposed to bedoing.Which of course, when he shows up, I’m not.
He catches notice of the books and papers inthe living room. “What are you studying?”
“Tonight? Civil procedures.” I glance behindhim at the closet door, he doesn’t make a move out of my smallfront hallway.