Page 39 of Mine

I turn my phone over this time, unwilling to risk Mom catching me again. She comes out a moment later in the black dress, and while it definitely proves my mom’s still got it, I’m not sold.

“Oh no. Not this one. Let’s keep trying.”

“This is why I asked you to come with me instead of one of my friends. You never lie to me.”

Guilt squeezes my chest. I’m lying to her about Marshall. What will she say when she finds out? Dad will be angry, but Mom…she’ll be more hurt and confused. “I love you,” I tell her, wondering when the last time was that I said it.

She smiles. “I love you too. I know we’re hard on you sometimes, but it’s because we love you and want what’s best for you.”

“But don’t you think I know that better than anyone else?”

Mom sighs, and where Dad would keep pushing, I’m not surprised when she says, “Let’s not do this today. I just want to have fun with you. And your father loves you more than anything in this world.”

I look down. “I know.” And I do. I lucked out in so many ways, but him loving me makes it harder that he wishes I was different.

“Let me get dressed. We’ll get one of those big cookies you like and then keep searching for my dress.”

I force a smile. “Sounds perfect.”

We go to our favorite cookie store, and I get two because one is never enough—chocolate chip and red velvet.

Mom and I chat, enjoying each other’s company. Every once in a while, I check my phone, holding it beneath the table to reply something sassy and playful to whatever Marshall says.

When we get to the third store, I spot the flowy, short red dress and head straight for it. “Oh my God. This is gorgeous.” Clothes really aren’t my thing, but I can’t pretend I don’t enjoy a little shopping from time to time and helping Mom out in situations like this. It’s more about the bonding time with her than anything else.

“Ooh. I like it. Are you sure it’s not too much?”

“It’s absolutely not too much, but let’s not get our hopes up. You have to try it on first.”

We find the right size, and she disappears in the dressing room. I can’t stop myself from pulling out my phone to see if Marshall responded. I enjoy talking with him like this too much.

When I click on his message, a photo pops up of him with his dick inside a Fleshlight.

Sir: This hole isn’t mouthy.

Blood rushes to my groin because he’s got a great cock, and seeing it reminds me of how it feels in my mouth. I’m stuck between laughing at his playfulness and throwing a temper tantrum because he’s fucking that instead of me.

Me: Oh God. You’re getting me hard in the middle of the mall, Sir. Please, use my hole next time. I promise to be good.

I smile down at my phone, wanting to wait for his reply—and keeping it real, wanting to stare at the photo of his cock too—but I force myself to shove it in my pocket. When I do, Mom is standing outside the dressing room, looking at me. I fidget, though with the angle I had my cell and the distance between us, she couldn’t have seen what Marshall sent me.

“You look gorgeous. That is absolutely my favorite, and if you don’t choose that one, I’ll never forgive you.”

“It’s great, isn’t it? I feel like a hottie.”

I chuckle. “You are a hottie.”

“Damn right I am.” She looks at herself in the mirror. “I’m buying this one.”

I don’t allow myself to look at my cell again while she changes and then checks out. We’re at the opposite end of the mall from where we parked, and I carry her bag for her as we head back.

“So…” she begins hesitantly. “I’m not trying to be…well, me, but you sure have been smiling at your phone a lot today. Have you met a boy?”

I stumble, my heart jumping to my throat. I haven’t just met someone, and he’s certainly not a boy—something my parents still see me as. “I have…but it’s not serious.” The second I saythat, I want to sink into the floor and die. Why the fuck was that my answer? I should have told her no, or that it was Reggie.

“I recognize that look on your face, and you seem pretty smitten to me.”

It’s a strange feeling for your heart to be in your throat but also to be punching at your insides. I’ve never felt it before, and I kinda feel like I might pass out. “I’m not smitten. It’s nothing. Just someone I’ve seen, like, once and don’t know if I’ll ever see again.”

---