Page 37 of Whispers of Obsession

“If I catch you within ten feet of her again, I’ll assume you’re threatening her, and I’ll intervene. Do you like being on the football team? Because if so, I’d heed the warning,” Mr. Marx warns, before dismissing the jocks and turning to me. “If they lay a hand on you, you come and find me. I’ll handle it.”

And then he’s stepping away, and I’m…so freaking confused.

“Holy hot sauce, Batman! That was sexy as fuck! Mr. Marx has the hots for you, for sure!” Lizzy whisper-screeches.

I shake my head.

“He’d do that for any student, calm yourself,” I tell her.

And although I don’t entirely believe my own words, I don’t feel like Lizzy is right either. Mr. Marx is intense, but I don’t sense attraction from him. He seems more…protective? Possessive, maybe.

Which is confusing as fuck, and leaves me questioning why? Does it have anything to do with his friendship with Slater? Or is there something else going on that I’m not aware of?

Thankfully, the rest of the day passes without incident and the jocks give me a wide berth. I didn’t know anyone had beef with Slater. I thought he was popular, especially amongst his teammates. But then again, there was that whole thing with Jessy at the party.

After school, I’m surprised to find Slater sitting on my porch, his SUV parked in the driveway.

“Hey,” he says, standing to greet me when I reach the door.

“Slater,” I say, my tone cold. “What are you doing here?”

“Your mom asked me to stop by. She said there’s a fuse that needs changing and a couple of odd jobs she’s been meaning to do. I offered to help. She works too hard to find the time for maintenance. But if you’d rather I left, I can go and leave the jobs for some other time,” he tells me.

I’m an asshole, and I’m acting like one. It doesn’t matter that hearing my mom and Slater are in contact – may always have been in contact behind my back – makes me feel so damn uncomfortable. What matters is mom’s getting the help with the things we don’t have time to do.

“No, no. I’m sorry. Come on in.” I let him in.

“You moved the spare key,” he comments.

“So that’s why you’re on the doorstep. You tried to let yourself in already, but couldn’t.”

He laughs. “If I wanted to get into your house, moving the spare key to the plant pot in the back garden isn’t going to stop me, Cora.”

He’s right, of course he is. I should know that by now.

“Have you eaten?” I ask, when we reach the kitchen.

“I’m fine, thanks. I’m planning on taking your mom out to dinner to thank her for her hospitality.”

“What hospitality?” I demand.

He shrugs. “She’s welcomed me back into her life and is making me feel welcome.”

The implication that I have not sits heavy, though unspoken.

“That’s nice,” I say, before I pause and realize I haven’t said a single nice thing to him in the last five minutes of conversation. “I’m glad you came by to help. Mom’s been at the hospital all week. All month, it feels like. I guess it’s good that no one is in a rush for the house to be finished,” I say.

“She hasn’t slowed down,” he says. “You know how your mom is.”

I nod. “Yeah. But…” I hesitate. I don’t want to bad mouth his dad, but it’s his fault we’re in such dire straits.

“Hey, it’s okay. I get it. My dad’s a dick. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize for him.”

“I’m not. I’m apologizing for me. I promise, I’ll try to come around more. I’ll help where I can. I should have done more.”

“You know my mom wouldn’t take your money, Slater. She barely takes it from me.”

---