Page 19 of The Enforcer

Chapter Eight

Kenna

Ijumped from the bed and immediately threw my clothes on faster than I knew how. I could feel Joaquin's come descend from inside me, creating a small pool in the cotton of my underwear. Feeling it come out gave me a shock of pleasure - another sign that this had been real, that it hadn't been a dream.

When I finished, I ran out of my room without looking back. I highly doubted Joaquin was going to be offended by my abrupt departure because we both knew I needed to head downstairs so we wouldn’t get caught.

"Kenna," my father called again.

"Daddy?" I bounced down the stairs and smiled when I saw him.

"There you are," he said. "Walter's mother called me up a few minutes ago. Is it true that the two of you broke up?"

I wanted to die. Seriously, Walter? Running off to Mommy a sob story about how the evil witch broke your heart when I was supposed to be The One? Not cool.

You know how his mother is, a voice pointed out. She could have told him to invite you to dinner and he had to explain why that wasn't possible. There's no need to blame him.

I nearly rolled my eyes at the rational part of me before reminding myself that Joaquin was still in my room.

"Yeah," I said, nodding my head. "I did."

He scrunched his face and tilted his head to the side before heading into the kitchen. I wasn't surprised to see him grab some chips from the pantry. Daddy loved to snack - it was a habit he picked up after Mom left - but he worked out hard enough that it never showed.

"You okay?" he asked. There was confusion in his voice, confusion I couldn't blame him for because it was random - at least, to him. It wasn't as though he picked up the way Joaquin and I looked at each other - the longing glances, the lingering, lust-filled flickers. "Do you want to talk about it?"

He began to put chips in his mouth and leaned his forearms against the marble island in the kitchen.

"Not really," I said, shrugging my shoulders and taking a seat on a barstool across from him. "I just felt he had his whole life figured out while I have no idea what I want to do with mine."

"I thought you were going to take classes at community college," he pointed out.

"Yes, exactly," I said, throwing my arm out. "This is why I didn't even apply for major universities. I have no idea what I want to study. Why waste the money at a university when we could pay for the same classes somewhere closer and less inexpensive?"

"It wouldn't be a waste, pumpkin," Dad told me before putting more chips in his mouth. "You would be learning. This is a good opportunity for you to figure out what you want to do."

I wasn't so sure. My only real representation of college was all the frat initiations and the horror stories, how football - not other athletics, just football - was life, and how incredibly smart people turned out to be after going in like an idiot. Of course, these were things I saw on television rather than discussions with people I knew and trusted, but it always made me feel a little hesitant about the whole college thing because I didn't think I would fit in. I wasn't super smart - I'd probably average low A's and B's -, I had no desire to join a sorority or party at a frat house, and I really didn't give a shit about football. If I did go to a big school, my goal would be to go to my classes and then come home. I don’t think I would linger for any reason, not even to study for exams at the library or to pick up a mocha at Starbucks.

"Maybe community college," I said, my voice tentative.

It was difficult to concentrate when I had just gotten fucked by Joaquin. My body was still tingling and I wanted him to fuck me again. At least, I wanted to know for sure there would be an again. Judging by the way it happened, I knew he wanted me the same way I wanted him, but I wasn't sure if he was willing to risk it the way I was. Sneaking behind someone’s back was not for the lighthearted, especially considering Joaquin was my father's best friend.

"You should register for spring classes," he said, encouraging me. "Take a core class and get it out of the way, and then take two classes you want to take, like, I don't know, The Psychology of the Criminal Mind or Shakespeare in Film."

"There's a Shakespeare in Film course?" I asked.

Dad nodded. "Oh, yeah," he said. "Granted, I don't know what's actually going to be offered at the college, but when your mother studied abroad, she took that course. It was literally watching movies of a select group of Shakespeare adaptions, from Kenneth Branaugh to 10 Things I Hate About You."

My eyebrows perked up. That didn't actually sound terrible. If anything, it sounded intriguing.

"Huh." I pursed my lips in thought.

"I know you took off a semester to figure things out," Dad continued, his hand going back in the chip bowl. "And I think that's what you've done. You don't want to be with Walter anymore. And now you're looking for direction. I know you loved watching all those documentaries on serial killers when you were in high school. Take a course on that."

I felt myself smiling. "That sounds pretty cool, Dad," I admitted, glancing down.

"Hell yeah, it sounds cool," he said with a grin before eating more chips. When he swallowed, he still had that smile on his face. "It is cool, Ken."

My heart skipped a beat at my childhood nickname. I had just fucked his friend upstairs minutes ago and he had the power to make me feel like I was still a child. I didn't understand that.

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