Sweet Girl by Quell T. Fox
Charlotte
Myplanelandstwentyminutesbehindschedule,butIknowMomwillstillbewaitingforme.I’vetalkedtoherconsistentlysinceI’veleft,someconversationshaveonlybeenaminutelong,butatleastI’mdoingmypartofstayingintouch.She’sreallyexcitedformetobecominghomeforthesummer,consideringIhaven’tbeenhomeforanyoftheholidaysorvacations,spendingmyentirefreshmanyearatschool.Iwantedtostayoverthesummertotakesomeextraclasses,butMomkeptsayinghowmuchshemissedmesoIcouldn’tsayno.
We’ve never had the best relationship, mostly because my mother’s number one priority will always be work. She’s a nurse and is at the hospital more than she’s at her own home. The fact she’s had a boyfriend for this long is mind blowing. I felt like I’d spent most of my childhood with sitters, until I was old enough to stay alone. Then it was just me.
Before Jonathan, there was a revolving door of men. She had no want to settle down, but a high sex drive. Something I should probably not know about my mother but lines with her have always been blurred. And with our rooms being only down the hall from one another and a mother with no shame, it’s no surprise I’ve heard certain things that I shouldn’t have. The only saving grace for me was that when I was little, I really had no idea what was going on. I was particularly naive until Jonathan came along.
My mother has always treated me more like a younger roommate than someone she carried around for nine months and pushed out of her vagina. She’s never been affectionate and we never did mommy/daughter things. I stayed home and cleaned up, prepared meals, while she went to work and paid bills.
I don’t hate her though, not at all. I don’t even dislike her. All in all, my mom is a great person. She’s hard working, driven, and stubborn as hell. But even with all the positive things I can say about her, I vowed to never be like her. A promise I made to myself at a very young age. I wanted to find one man, get married, have lots of babies, and live in our dream house where we can walk out the back door and end up on the beach. I did not want to have a mile long list of dicks I’ve ridden. But like I said, I changed that day I saw Jonathan.
The moment I knew I would be coming home, butterflies took up residence in my belly, and have overstayed their welcome.
I’m worried, anxious, and way too thrilled to set eyes on my stepfather again.
I’m an adult. Legal.
The only thing stopping me now, are my morals… which, I’m not even sure I have anymore. Or maybe I never had them at all.
I pull my bag from the overhead compartment and wait in line to exit the plane. It begins to get hot with all the people pressed back to back. Getting on and off the plane has always been my least favorite part of the whole trip. The thought of seeing my mother makes me happy, though. In a way I’ve missed her, and it will be nice to catch up.
When I exit the boarding bridge and emerge into the building, I start immediately looking around for Mom. Her bright red hair will be a dead giveaway. A lot of people don’t think we’re related, let alone mother and daughter, because we look so different. I’m told I look just like my father. Dark hair and eyes, and light skin. Mom has the same skin tone as me but her eyes are as blue as they can get, and her hair is that beautiful shade of red. It always reminded me of the Disney Princess when I was little, but as I got older I realized it was off. My mother’s hair is much lighter with a tinge of brown. We have the same heart shaped face, but that’s where our resemblance ends. I’ve never met my father, never even seen a photo, so I just take my mother’s word for it. I’ve never had any interest in knowing who he is, since he clearly didn’t care enough to be in my life.
As I look out into the sea of people, I see no bright hair anywhere. I walk further out as the crowd starts to dissipate, people finding their family members and friends and taking off, but I still don’t see her.
Was I wrong about her waiting for me? Did she forget? No, she wouldn’t do that. She’s been wanting me to come home, this was her idea. Maybe she’s at the wrong terminal, or just running late. Got stuck in traffic or held behind at work.
Just as I pull my phone from my pocket to call her, I spot him.
My entire body tenses as I set eyes on the most alluring man I have ever seen.
He looks the same… just better. So much fucking better. His hair is a little longer and messier, like he hasn’t bothered to do a thing with it since whenever it was he last washed it, but it’s just as dark as I remember. His jaw is covered in a short but scruffy beard, one that is new. Like clockwork, each and every morning that razor would be going off, ensuring he had a clean, smooth face. Not anymore though, and I think I prefer him like this. And his body… wow, his body. He clearly has spent some time at the gym. His arms are more toned than I remember, his shoulders wider. Even his legs look thicker. I watch from a distance, still hidden by the number of people walking around, trying to get to where they need to go.
I squeeze the phone in my hand, my belly warming at the sight.
My feet are planted to the ground, my mouth filled with cotton balls. I can’t breathe and my heart is hammering behind my ribcage.
Jonathan.
He was always a good looking guy. It’s one of the things that made it so hard to ignore him. Well built, dark hair, light eyes, and this beautiful tan that I’d kill for. Even though he’s dating my mom, he’s only nineteen years older than me. It may seem like a lot but… it could be worse.
Mom had me when she was young, only sixteen. She’s been on her own ever since. Her own parents were furious when they found out she was pregnant and basically disowned her. Mom has always been a carefree spirit, going with the flow and doing whatever makes her happy. She didn’t get to experience her younger years like most teens did because she was working to pay rent and daycare bills while her friends were partying at the beach and getting drunk. As I got older and Mom realized she had some freedom… she really started to enjoy it. Like I said… revolving door of men. And I got really used to being alone.
Knowing he is my only way home, I shake my head of my dirty thoughts, and remind myself he’s taken before heading towards him. He’s looking down at his phone, completely engrossed, so he doesn’t notice me when I reach him.
“Hey,” I say, practically choking on my words.
He glances up, something passing in his eyes that I can’t place. A smile spreads across his lips before he speaks. “Charlotte, how are you?” His voice is husky and it sounds smoother than I remember. I haven’t talked to him once since I’ve been gone. A shiver races up my spine at his use of my full name. He’s the only one who has ever called me that, everyone else opting to call me Charlie. I missed it. His arms reach around me as he pulls me in for a hug. I freeze again, unable to hug him back. This isn’t a normal occurrence and I’m not sure how to take it. His musky scent fills my nose, the one I remember all too well, and my belly does a little flip. Everything about this feels more right than it should. Being in his arms… I’ve forgotten where we even are. The only other times I remember any type of physical affection from him was on birthdays or big events, like my high school graduation. Those were always sweet, innocent. A stepfather proud of his stepdaughter.
But this… this is more.
No, no it isn’t. But I wish...
He pulls away, the smile still on his face and I force one of my own, hoping it looks genuine. I ignore the fact my belly is on fire, my palms are sweating, and my pussy is throbbing… If I focus on all of these things, I might do something I'll regret later on… maybe.
“Where’s Mom?” I ask as we walk towards the exit, side by side. I try to act as normal as possible, gripping onto my suitcase handle and wheeling it beside me. I need to have control. I prepared myself for this, knowing it wouldn’t be easy but… it has to be this way. This man is off-limits, as much as I want him, I can’t do that to my mother.
“Called into work. Are you surprised?” He looks to me with a smile, his dimple on full display. I have such a soft spot for dimples, or maybe my soft spot is him. “Would you like me to take your bag?” He gestures towards it with his eyes.
I'm not surprised about my mother at all. I’d only hoped with her begging me to come home that she’d have taken a day or two off.
I shake my head in regards to my suitcase. “Nothing changes.”
We enter the parking lot and when he walks to a car I don’t recognize, I hesitate, not entirely sure where to go. I look around at the other cars but don’t see anything that looks familiar. “New car?” I ask.
“Yep, you like? I got her a month ago,” he tells me, his eyes catching mine. It was something that took me a long time to get used to, but Jonathan is the kind of person who looks into your eyes when he speaks to you. I don’t know much about cars, but I see it’s a BMW and know it must be good because I’ve heard the name. It must have been expensive. It’s definitely on the fancier end, which is much different than the truck he used to have. I admit, the truck was sexy… but this is too. Just in a different way.
“It’s nice. Very… shiny,” I nod. Though I couldn’t care less about the car, honestly.
He huffs out a laugh before opening the trunk, and picks up my suitcase. My eyes fall to his arms and how the muscles strain against his light gray T-shirt. He drops my things in, then walks around and opens the door for me. My heart picks up at the gesture.
He’s just being nice.
I need to stop overthinking these normal gestures, need to stop reading into every single thing he does.
Jonathan has never done anything to make me believe he feels the same way I do. It’s one thing that made it easier to push the thoughts of us being together from my mind. This obsession is one-sided. To him, I’m just a kid. His fiancée’s daughter. His future stepdaughter. He doesn’t look at me like someone he’d want to devour beneath the sheets of his king-sized bed. He doesn’t want to press me up against the cold tile of the shower and fuck me from behind. As much as I think of his cock, I know it’s all one big fantasy. One I should get over quickly. The more I realize how ridiculous this situation is, the more worried I become about my mental health.
This is not healthy.
He doesn’t see me the way I do him. This is just a crush from a girl on an older man that has turned into an obsession. It’s not unheard of, but I have to keep telling myself this because it’s what keeps me from acting out what I really want to do. I don’t want to cause a ripple in their lives over a fantasy that I’m harboring. That’s just not fair of me to do.
The fact that he’s my mom’s boyfriend should be enough to stop me, but deep down I know it isn’t. I’m selfish. I’m stubborn. And in those ways, I’m just like my mother. The fear of him rejecting me, of my mother finding out, those are what keeps my mouth zipped. Of him thinking I’m crazy, or disgusting for thinking he would want to be with someone who is practically family. My mother and I aren’t close… but I don’t want to hurt her. If she found out… I don’t even want to think of it. But if he felt the same way, we could at least… I don’t know, hide it?
Yeah, because her not finding out means it won’t hurt, right, Charlotte?
Lying makes everything okay, doesn’t it?
I realize he’s talking and I snap out of my thoughts.
“Sorry, what was that?” I ask, turning my attention towards him. My eyes go to his shoulders and how his short sleeved shirt grips his body. I follow the curve of muscles in his biceps, down to his large forearms and settle on his fingers that are gripped around the steering wheel. The thought of him running them over me and—
“—that your room is ready. Your mom’s been cleaning it for the last week. It somehow turned into a storage room, but she didn’t get rid of any of your things.”
“Oh, that’s nice,” is all I manage to say. I watch as his jaw clenches and I think my lack of conversation has upset him. I pull out my phone and send a text to Izzy, my best friend.
Me: Make it home okay?
She answers almost immediately, which doesn’t entirely surprise me. The girl is glued to her phone.
Izzy: Unfortunately. Is the summer over yet?
She was in no way happy about going home. The only thing that kept her sane was having Ivan—her boyfriend since middle school—with her. She didn’t come from a good home or family and was happy to escape to school, thankful for the full ride she got on a scholarship over a paper she wrote. Something she can only hope happens for her little sister, Julie, but she says Julie struggles in school and she’s worried she’ll be stuck there. Ivan wanted to go back to visit with their families, so she agreed. Also knowing she would see her sister helped because she wasn’t sure, as she got older, the kind of people she would fall in with. She has a feeling Julie will follow in their mother’s footsteps and it breaks her heart. Their mother is caught up in drugs and bad people. That isn’t the kind of life she wants for Julie.
We pull up in front of the house after a short while, and Jonathan pulls into the driveway. The house looks exactly the same with its dirty white vinyl siding, black shutters, and half dead plants hanging by the door. My mother always had good intentions with plants, but unfortunately, they need to be taken care of and she’d always forget about them. I tried to care for them when I was home, as did Jonathan, but it seems neither of us do well with them. We get out of the car and I stretch my arms above my head, suddenly feeling tired and in need of a nap.
“Your mom won’t be home until late tonight,” he says, pulling my suitcase from the trunk. I wonder why he’s telling me that.
Obviously because she’s my mom and he’s just letting me know. That’s all. Stop reading into it, Charlie!
I take my suitcase from him and head upstairs into my old room. It looks exactly as it did when I left a year ago. The same light blue spread and band posters on the walls. All of my books are still tucked away on my shelf. Photos hang on the corkboard of friends I had in high school who I no longer talk to. It’s true what they say, about losing friends after high school. I haven’t kept in touch with any of them. I’ve been busy and I suppose they have too. I think most of them opted to leave this town for out of state schools, the same as me.
I lie down on my bed, excited about getting a break from the twin-sized one at school. I intend to use every inch of this queen-sized mattress.
I’m mentally exhausted—and sexually frustrated—over spending so much time in close proximity to Jonathan. It isn’t easy to act normal around him. I had hoped after being away from him for so long I’d forget how I felt. That my fantasies were just that, fantasies. Something I held onto because it was all I had. That my mind wasn’t wanting him, just what I’ve turned him into: the perfect man.
I’d somehow molded him into someone who has not one single flaw, using my thoughts of him for what I want for my future. Like a muse. I’d thought to myself many times he can’t be as perfect as I think he is. Clearly, I’m remembering him all wrong. People aren’t perfect, not how I think he is. I’d hoped I’d outgrown him, that seeing him would give me a sense of disappointment, that he isn’t all I made him out to be, more in love with the idea I’d come up with in my brain and not the person himself.
Coming here was not what I wanted to do, for more than just one reason. The more I think about it, the more I realize it was a bad idea.
I text Izzy back.
Me: Same.
Izzy: Stepdaddy problems? ;)
Izzy is the only person in the world I have told about Jonathan. And it wasn’t by choice. We share a dorm room, which sometimes means she’s there when I have a male friend over. I’m not shy, and she isn’t a prude. She has no issues with me having a man in my bed while she’s sleeping. Most guys don’t care about it, some even enjoy it more, knowing they’re being watched or listened to.
But when I called out the wrong name, well, that is not something guys are okay with. In fact, it gets them pretty pissy. Izzy laughed the entire time as my midnight caller gathered his things up, leaving our room in just his underwear that I’m pretty sure were on backwards.
She forced me to tell her about the man I was thinking of, the one whose name came out of my mouth, and thanks to the bit of alcohol I’d had only a few short hours before, I spilled the beans. She’s a horrible influence on the situation and spent way too many days trying to convince me to make a move on him. She’s definitely worse than I am when it comes to morals. For her, I’m certain she has none.
Me: No. Have fun with Ivan! Tell Julie I said hi.
I roll over and get a face full of pillow. Ew. What is that? I take another sniff and assume these sheets haven’t been changed since I left. They smell musty and stale. I guess after all the cleaning, she forgot to change the bedding.
I quickly pull the sheets off, stuff them into my laundry basket, and head downstairs. Nerves roll in my belly the whole way. As I reach the bottom of the stairs, I turn right and head down the hallway, passing the den and holding my breath. I let it out when I notice it’s empty. This needs to stop. I open the door to the laundry room and I’m assaulted by the thick, warm air. I drop the basket by the washer and open the few windows that are in here to let some of the fresh air inside. Once they’re all opened, I throw my sheets into the wash and start the machine. When I take a step back my heart skips a beat.
Jonathan is now in the den, sitting in his recliner—which is in the exact same spot it has always been in. Granted, he isn’t doing anything other than staring at the TV, but the memories flood back and I’m almost knocked to my knees.
His hand wrapped around his cock. His hips thrusting into his hand. His eyes screwed shut. His cum spurting out.
I quickly spin around and drop to the ground, my back against the wall, knees pulled to my chest which is rising heavily as I pull in deep breaths, the windows not doing a damn thing for this thick, stale air in here. This can’t be happening. I need to stop obsessing over this. Maybe coming back here was a worse idea than I thought.
“What are you doing?” I jerk my head at the sound of Mom’s voice. I jump up, thoughts racing as I think of an excuse. She pulls me close and wraps me in a hug. I squeeze her back. I dare to sneak a peek into the den and notice Jonathan’s gaze is on me, our eyes locking. His dark, almost knowing gaze goes straight to my soul. Mom is speaking, but I can’t hear what she’s saying. Because that’s what he does to me, makes me forget about everything else going on around me. He sucks his bottom lip between his teeth and winks before standing and exiting the room. My stomach flips. “Did you hear me?”
“Sorry, no. What was that?” I ask mom, stepping back from her and trying to pull myself together. I shove my shaky hands into the back pockets of my shorts, attempting to radiate anything but the flustered feelings Jonathan just revived inside of me.
“I asked what you were doing on the floor in the laundry room.” She laughs. “Are you feeling okay?”
“Oh, that.” I smile nervously. “I thought I saw a mouse.” It’s the first thing I can think of. So cliché. It’s not like I was doing anything wrong. I know sitting on the ground is probably weird, but what the hell was I supposed to tell her? “Oh, hey. Yeah, I’m fine. I just thought Jonathan was going to wank his cock in the den like old times and I had a mini panic attack.” Yeah… that would go over well. “Why are you home so early?”
“I’ll have Jonathan get some traps from the store,” she says, hands on her hips and looking around the room. I think maybe she didn’t hear my question, but then she speaks again. “I was able to convince someone to stay for me so I could come home and see my baby girl. Come on, we’re going out for dinner.” She wraps her arm around my waist and we walk to the kitchen. I was hoping to hide up in my room for the rest of the night. Maybe take a cold shower. Definitely needing to stay away from him at all costs. Not spend the evening with him over dinner.