Page 21 of Love Defies Us

Fuck me. It makes me mad that she doesn’t get the kind of love a child should receive from a parent.

I never thought of her as a people pleaser.

I move my checker and don’t respond because, honestly, I don’t know how.

“I want to kiss you. Likekissyou, kiss you. Not the peck you always give me on the cheeks and forehead but a full-blown make-out session. Like I see on those cheesy romance movies.”

“No.” The word is firm. No explanation. No second-guessing. No changing my mind. She’s making this situation more awkward. This is what I feared would happen if I slept with her. She would want something that I’m not capable of giving her. Love.

“I’ll make out with your pussy, those are the only lips I want to kiss,” I lie.

Her face freezes in place then she moves her checker.

“Fuck everyone else in what they want you do, and do what makes you happy.” I change the subject.

I hop her two checkers and thirty minutes later, I win the game. Her eyes drill hole into the board.

“You want to play another game?”

“No.”

“You have any other games we can play?”

She shakes her head as she places the board and checkers into the box. Frustration clouds her face. She’s in deep thought, and her tell is when she bites her tongue.

“What do you want to do?” I ask her.

“Are you afraid to fall in love? Is that why you don’t want to kiss me?” Her tone is raspy and her face turns the color of ripe cherries.

Women just can’t let shit go, can they?

“I don’t do love or romance or any of that shit. Either you deal with it or don’t.” My words are harsh. Harsher than I intended.

I run my hands through my hair, and she flinches at my words and crinkles her nose like she smells something foul. It doesn’t stink in here. It smells a mixture of her and Jasper. Fresh peaches with manly body wash.

“Don’t ask me to do something I don’t want to do it. Because I’ll do it.”

“What will happen if you do it?” she challenges, typical Sadie. She never backs down from anything. And that’s what I like about her.

“I’ll break your heart.” And I can’t live with myself if I do that to her.

Sadie

Ihate this place.

I hate the oak dining room table.

I hate the smell of fresh lemons like one of the maids just got done mopping.

I hate the way this new manor feels—cold, empty, and strange.

My parents’ manor is not a home, but a house filled with stuff.

I sit at the dining table as the maid places a plate of food in front of me. My glass plate is filled with asparagus and mashed potatoes and Spanish rice. I’m a vegetarian. It’s not because I care about animals getting slaughtered, but because most of the meat sold in stores is processed, and I care what goes inside of my body.

Tonight, I wear a black strapless maxi dress that stops above my knee and black pumps. My curly hair is pinned in a tight bun and my style is light and simple.

My father wants us to dress up for every dinner we attend like we’re some kind of royal family, which is quite ridiculous. Why can’t we be like every other family in America where they dress normal and laugh and talk at the dinner table. My dad treats dinnertime like a business meeting with his colleagues.