I make my way to my bedroom and go into the closet. It’s far too big for , but many others wouldn’t agree. I stopped fighting the stylist long ago. Normally I wear what I’m told to. It’s chosen from a list of approved clothes and laid out for like I’m a child. I could wear sothing new every day for a year and still not wear everything in here. And it’s sad because none of it is my style. It’s all so clean cut and professional, but I was raised on a ranch in Tennessee. I’m more comfortable in cut-off shorts and dirty boots, but that’s not in the dress code. Right now I’m worked up, so I’m going to wear whatever I want. Or at least sothing that resembles what I’d like to wear. It takes a while, but I finally find a pair of jeans and a strappy top that is supposed to be worn under sothing. Not today. It’s hot out and I’m going to dress accordingly, even if I don’t go outside.
I go to my desk and dig around for a pair of scissors. I smile as I grab them and go to work on my jeans.
When I’m finished, I put the clothes on and look in the mirror. I feel more like myself right now than I have in a long ti. My pink bra straps are visible under the top, but it’s cute. I turn and see that I’ve cut the jeans too short, but I don’t care. Ford will probably report this back to my dad, but he doesn’t seem like the type to take care of it himself rather than tattle on . What could he even do? They’re shorts and my vagina is covered. Pretty much.
I slip on so flip-flops and grab my sunglasses and push them up into my hair. I grab my phone and see it’s ti to et with Chad Diamond. This was one of the reasons I’d gone to see my dad this morning. I wanted to see if I could get out of this eting. He’s supposed to help pick the college I’m going to attend. I wanted him to be here to help weigh all my options and see which would fit best.
I had thought none would suit , but now I’m beginning to rethink things. Either I need to get away from Ford and his cold shoulder, or I need to find out if he’s so pissed off because he wants , too. I feel the attraction between us and I watch the struggle in his eyes. I’ve watched him every day for three years, and I see that sothing in him has changed. Maybe he’s like and just needs a little push.
Either way, my eting with Chad is going to help with that. He’s going into his senior year at Brown University. He’s cute and has asked on a date before, but I turned him down because my heart wanted Ford. Also, I think so guys show interest in because of who my dad is. Maybe I’ll invite Chad to my birthday party. I still need to reschedule it. If I could cancel it, I would. I’d rather do sothing small, but Dad seems to think this is worthy of a big celebration.
I grab my ssenger bag and head for the door. When I swing it open, I see Ford standing there.
"Buttercup is on the move," I chirp before he can say it into his radio.
His eyes roam down my bare legs, but I don’t stay to look at his reaction. I just keep on walking like I dress this way all the ti and don’t have a care in the world. I feel him following closely and I can’t stop myself from peeking over my shoulder. His jaw is rock solid and his lips are pressed together in a tight line.
"I don’t think your outfit is appropriate," he says as he grabs by the arm and spins around to face him. It doesn’t hurt, but I can feel his barely controlled strength as he once again pulls close to him. "I think you should change."
"No," I say, pulling my arm out of his grip, and try to keep walking. He steps into my path, and suddenly a wall of muscle is blocking the way. "You can’t tell what to wear." I look up at him and watch his nostrils flare.
"Didn’t you just say you aren’t rebellious?"
"If you’re going to say that I am, then I might as well live up to it." I say it in the sweetest voice I can muster.
"This isn’t like you," he says, but his voice is softer this ti.
"How do you know? Maybe this is my new and improved self as I get ready to go to college."
He looks away and thinks for a second before he turns his dark green eyes back on . "All right. How about we make a deal?"
"What kind of deal?" I ask as my eyes move down to his mouth. His lips look so soft.
"If you change, I’ll do sothing you want."
"Like what?" I hedge. I want to know what he has that I want. Then the idea sparks and I decide to throw caution to the wind. Why not go after what I want? "How about a kiss?"
"Fucking hell," he mutters before he clenches his teeth and closes his eyes.
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