Page 43 of Not Your Little Girl Anymore

Sam sighs. “I don’t doubt that for a second. She looks like a very nice girl, but Alec…”

I stop her right there, not allowing her to have a single second to finish what she was planning to say. “Are you going to tell me I’m making a big mistake? Throwing away my life for some girl? Looking at jail time? Screwing up the band? Because if so, I don’t want to fucking hear it, Sam.”

I caught her off guard, considering her eyes flung open. “Uhm.. OK. How about we talk about Callie? Did she like her gift?”

Smart move changing the subject.

“She did,” I mutter under my breath.

Samantha smiles. “That’s great. Everything went well?”

My eyes move to the other side of the road where a young couple is pushing a stroller. I don’t answer Samantha.

Sam blows out a breath. “I’ll just see you inside, then.”

She pushes herself up, reaching for the handle on the door.

“Tyler’s on his way,” I let her know.

She turns back to me, nothing but the sound of her breathing mixes with the light breeze that passes. Finally, she says, “Alec. You’re an adult and are going to make your own decisions, but please know I worry about you. We all worry about you.”

The moment the door closes, I let my breath out, not realizing I had held it for so long. It’s not that I don’t appreciate Samantha’s concern. I understand, truly. I do. I have thought about every possible negative impact being around Summer could cause.

But, besides my band, I have nothing left to live for. Maybe the selfish part of me knew that. I silently laugh at myself for thinking this plan could work. Deep down, I knew it wouldn’t.

It’s Raleigh. He’s as ignorant as ignorant can get, and truthfully, no matter how much he loves his daughter, he will ultimately convince her how much of a piece of trash I am.

For a while, I believed it. But maybe wanting my charges dropped and needing them to be are two different things. With the small conversations I’ve had with Summer, maybe she’s opening my eyes to the possibility that there is more to life than forcing myself down the rabbit hole I’ve been stuck in. I refuse to believe she’s the cause though. But maybe, despite the record I do have, I could still be more. I could still prove I’m a good person.

All I have to do is believe it myself.

I finish my cigarette and allow my mind to drift. Summer is the first person to pop into my mind. What she’d look like sprawled across my bed, her body completely exposed for me. My bottom lip slips between my teeth, and my cock jerks behind my shorts as I imagine how her hands would feel gripping every inch of my body. What she would sound like while I fuck her to the ends of the universe.

I want to talk to her. I long to see that perfect, pretty smile of hers.

I pull out my phone to text her.

What color bra are you wearing?

I put my hand against my head, forgetting that she doesn’t have my phone number. As soon as I go to send another message to clarify that it’s me, my phone vibrates and a response pops up.

Hello, Alec.

My smile is on full display, and I run my fingers over the screen to type out a reply and hit send.

How’d you know?

Well, I don’t know many people who would ask me what color bra I’m wearing. Given our recent encounters, it seems like a stalkerish thing to ask.

A laugh falls from my lungs.

Oh, so you’re not wearing one?

Funeral clothes.

Grief slams into my gut. I forgot her mother’s funeral was happening. I only knew it was because it was in the newspaper a few days ago. Feeling like an asshole, I run my fingers across the letters on the screen and hit send.

Sorry… how did that go?

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