Page 60 of Seeds of Malice

Why did I agree that was okay?

I hear echoes of Marcey screamingPrude! Homophobe!

I am not!I reassure myself.

They want a woman who knows she's a woman, not a prude. So you want to be my slut, right Ivy?Dax's voice reappears.

My insides quiver. I put my hand over my belly and lift my chin.

Dax is right. That's better than being a prude, isn't it?

I decide there's nothing wrong with Dax calling me his slut and whore. After all, he called mehis, not just a slut or whore.

I check the water. It's warm, so I force myself to make it colder. I stand under the water as long as I can, washing my hair, conditioning it, and quickly using my loofah all over my body. I finish rinsing and turn the freezing water off.

I dry my body and brush my hair and teeth. I can't help but gaze at my reflection once more. I feel different. I don't know how, but everything Dax and I did makes me feel so much more alive.

I close my eyes and smile, thinking about how he made me feel and how much I loved trying to please him. But then my father's voice barking my name interrupts my dirty thoughts, and confusion sets in again.

Why was I still okay doing that with Dax while Dad was banging on the door?

We could have gotten caught.

Something must be wrong with me.

But Dax was into it too. I'm sure he was.

I must be the only person in the world who doesn't get turned off by the possibility of getting caught.

If only my father hadn't thrown that rock through the window.

My stomach curls. I sigh and open the bathroom door. I turn off the light, go into my room, and put on a pair of shorts and a tank top. I glance at the clock.

My father will be home soon, I assume.

What's he going to say to me?

I have to stick to our lies.

My stomach dives. My father and I don't have lies between us. No secrets. I'm not one of those kids who would sneak out or not tell him what I'm doing. Plus, I never had anything going on in my life that he disapproved of.

But I don't want to hide Dax. He's adamant that we're open to my father about us, which I admire. It shows Dax isn't a coward, which my father should appreciate since he hates cowards.

But I don't know how I can ever tell him about Dax and me. My father hates Dax, and I curse Avery, Marcey, Cindy, and Bobby for telling him we were together.

I have to get my story straight before he comes home.

I rehearse my story over and over, until I feel like I'm going to drive myself nuts. I glance at the clock again and decide to start dinner. So I go into the kitchen and open the pantry.

I pull out some noodles and marinara sauce to make my father's favorite meal. I open the freezer, pull out a loaf of garlic bread, and find a cookie tray. I pull it out of the package, lay the pieces across it, and then pre-heat the oven.

I add water and olive oil to the pot, then set it on the stove. I turn the burner on. Then, I remove a saucepan from the cabinet, open the jar, dump it in, and set the lid on top. I put the setting on low so it doesn't burn.

Where is Dad?

I pace, then finally sit down at the kitchen table, shifting my thoughts to Dax.

Every now and then, my father's face and his angry voice appear, but then I think of how Dax tasted and how I got all of him in my mouth. Pride fills me. I really didn't think I could.

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