Page 18 of Off Limits

I DON’T HEAR from Kye all weekend, so at school on Monday, when I see him outside with his best friend Eric, I straighten my shoulders and walk up to them confidently.

He’s barely concealing a smile as he pretends to look at his phone, while Eric is clearly muttering to him out of the side of his mouth, something like, ‘Here she comes.’

“Can I talk to you, Kye?” I ask tersely.

He lifts his eyes to me and shrugs nonchalantly. “Sure.”

Eric presses his lips together and looks away in a show of hiding his laughter.

“In private?”

“Nah,” he says, lifting his chin and looking down his nose at me. “We can talk here.”

“Okay.” I set my jaw, refusing to be intimidated. I survived five weeks of Melanie’s abandonment, surely I can survive confronting a teenage boy in front of his friend. “Why didn’t you text me back this weekend?”

Eric snorts with laughter.

“Oh!” Kye’s voice drips with cruel sarcasm. “I didn’t know if you were allowed to receive texts. Doesn’t Daddy check your phone?”

“What the fuck, Kye? Like your dad wouldn’t be pissed if he walked in on…“ My eyes flick over to Eric, and I let my sentence drop off.

“My dad doesn’t monitor my every move like some kind of bodyguard,” Kye snaps back. “If that’s even your father…”

“What?” I exclaim, disbelieving. “He’s my stepdad! What the fuck does that even mean?”

“That guy is your stepdad,” he deadpans. “Yeah, right.”

I’m speechless. He doesn’t believe me? “You’ve seen him pick me up at school,” I say dumbly.

“Yeah,” he says, to Eric’s amusement. “Every single day. You’re the only little girl whose daddy comes to pick her up after school each day.”

Eric and Kye both start laughing then, and I step backwards, shaking my head. I know it’s a bit extra that Jean-Luc picks me up and drops me off, when most kids my age take the bus or walk, but Kye is completely deflecting my question using some fucked-up gaslighting technique and I’m actually speechless. Frustrated, I blow out a breath and walk away. Kye is such a jerk. I can’t believe I ever fell for his bullshit.

I head directly out to the sidewalk after school, instead of waiting on the front steps as usual, but it’s not far enough away to avoid scrutiny. When Jean-Luc’s Jaguar rolls up, I hear Eric call out across the lawn, “Daddy’s here!” to a cacophony of laughter. I’m scowling when I get in the car.

“Hey, baby,” says Jean-Luc, leaning over to kiss my cheek, and I flinch, turning my face sharply away from him.

“Please don’t,” I manage to bite out, and I can sense, rather than see, his surprise.

“Oh, okay,” he says uncertainly. “Sorry.” He shifts into drive and pulls away from the curb, and we ride in silence until we hit the first stoplight.

“Everything okay?” he asks, eyeing me with concern.

When I turn to look at him, it’s as if a steel bar has hit my chest. The air is knocked out of me.

The fact is, he’s hot. He’s fucking hot.

With one large, strong hand on the steering wheel, his suit jacket gapes open, revealing the close fit of his shirt across a broad chest. His brown eyes flash with concern and love. The dark shadow across his chiselled jaw contrasts with the meticulousness of his suit and the ostentatiousness of his silver watch. He’s rough and strong and polished, and so unlike high school boys with their jeering and teasing and ignorance. It hits me all at once. My Daddy. I’m fucking crushing on him and it’s crazy.

I close my eyes and look away, stricken suddenly, and he reaches out and rests a hand on my shoulder, rubbing the side of my neck lightly with his thumb.

“Hey,” he says softly. “Hey, baby. What is it?”

The light changes and his attention shifts to the road but he keeps his hand on my shoulder.

I shouldn’t want him to touch me, but I do. Suddenly all I want is for him to touch me.

I wish I didn’t have to fight this feeling. I wish he wasn’t my mom’s husband, I wish he wasn’t the only father I’ve ever known. I wish I didn’t have to settle for high school boys, like Kye, when what I really want is a man. Someone kind, and thoughtful, and experienced.

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