BILLION DOLLAR DADDY

by Stephanie Brother

  I shrug. “I never had a thing.” I guess I feel envious of his certainty about what he’s supposed to do with his life.

  “You have a thing, for sure.”

  “What?”

  “History. The way you talk about it. The way you get it. It’s your thing.”

  I shake my head. “I have to work damn hard at it. Every essay takes it out of me. It’s not a natural thing.”

  “And you think I don’t have to work hard at football? Every training session is grueling. Every game is another challenge; facing the highs of winning and the lows of losing. Working on the things that are going to improve your game in the long run. Even though I feel that the ball is part of me, I still have to push myself to stay sharp.”

  I smile at his enthusiasm and think back to the last game I saw him play. There had been a moment when it all seemed to be going wrong. The ball was flying loose and off target, but somehow Big D seemed to move like lightening. I still can’t fathom how his huge frame can move so fast on the field. In everyday life, he doesn’t seem so light on his feet. And I’ve never seen his eyes so lit up by anything before as when he’s talking now.

  “I wish I had your calling,” I say. It’s hard to know what’s motivating me in my life right now; my own dreams or life’s pressures.”

  “You want to play football?” he asks, grinning at his own stupid joke.

  “Can you see it?” I laugh.

  “I think you’d look good in a jersey.”

  There’s a moment where I imagine myself in his jersey and nothing else. My cheeks flame because I’m sure that isn’t what he had in mind, but when I glance across at him to see his expression, his cheeks look a little flushed too.

  “Nah, my shoulders are too narrow. That thing would swamp me,” I say in the worst deflection ever. It’s as I’m laughing to myself at how pathetic I am that I see an unfamiliar car parked outside my dorm. Cars themselves are not unusual, but even on my campus filled with rich jerks, the sports car stands out. I stop walking on instinct because I’m freaking out. The license plate says D4RK. I grab hold of Dominic’s arm and turn to face in the opposite direction. There’s a chance that whoever is sitting in that car would have already seen us crossing the road, but I can’t just stand there in direct sight. My fingers must be like claws because Big D swivels around putting his hand on the top of my arm and pulling me towards him.

  “What?” He looks around as I draw in closer to him and use him as a human shield.

  “We just need to stand here, like this, for a minute,” I say. My hand that I suddenly notice is pressed against his chest is trembling. Dominic glances down and then presses his own huge hand over the top of it.

  “It’s okay,” he says. “Whatever has you so spooked, I’m here, okay?”

  I chance a glance around his shoulder. The Porsche has its lights on now and it’s pulling away. For a second, I wonder if I’m just being paranoid. It could be a rich relative visiting someone from my dorm. Maybe their family name is Dark. Maybe it has nothing to do with Gray Suit and his creepy message. But even inside my head, all these maybes sound like bullshit. Dominic turns too and watches the car leaving.

  “Is there someone in that car that you don’t want to see?”

  I shake my head. “I don’t know. Not for sure.”

  “But you think.”

  I nod, drawing in a shaky breath and holding it to try and calm my fight or flight physical reactions.

  Dominic puts his arm around me and pulls me close until my face is resting against his heart. His arm is thrown around my shoulder so that I can’t move. “It’s okay,” he says, softly. “The car’s gone, and I’m going to get you up to your room. I’ll stay while you call the police and report this.”

  I shake my head. Andie’s words come back to me, urging the same thing, but I can’t. I just can’t risk my job because it’s my only hope to get through college so I can do more for Jenny.

  “You can’t just leave this if you’re that scared.” I look up into his shadowed face and see real concern in his eyes.

  I turn to my building, feeling so damn tired and ready to slip into my home space and hide from the world. “Let’s go up,” I say. Dominic looks confused and I get it. If I was in his position, I’d be confused too.

  I slip out of his grasp and start walking towards the door to my dorm. I’m on the first floor so we take the stairs, Big D following behind. At my door, I put the key in the lock and turn. I think my roommate is staying with her boyfriend tonight. It’s Thursday and they usually have a long weekend together. It’s dark, so I flick the switch. Dominic hangs by the door, looking like he doesn’t know what to do next.

  “Look,” I say, not really sure what to tell him, but knowing that I have to think of something fast. “The whole thing is complicated. Too complicated for me to explain. I just can’t report it to the police right now, but I promise I’m going to do something about it.”

  “I don’t know,” he says. “I don’t like leaving you like this.”

  He puts his right hand on the top of the door frame and leans, basically filling the whole space. This close I can smell his shower gel and feel his warmth. It wouldn’t take anything just to stand on my tip toes, hook my hand around his neck and pull his lips to mine. To put myself within the circle of his arms again, and settle into the security that I felt out in the lot.

  “I’m fine,” I say, trying to be strong, but even I can hear the quiver in my voice.

  Dominic sighs, looking at me dead in the eye as though he’s trying to read my truths and lies, but getting absolutely nowhere. “Can I come in and wait with you for a bit? Just watch some TV and hang out. Just until I’m sure that car isn’t coming back.”

  I’m torn because even though I know I should be telling him to go, I’m craving the safe feeling I get when I’m near him. It isn’t fair to make him worry about me when I can’t tell him anything about what’s going on. It isn’t fair to risk giving him the wrong impression. It isn’t fair to put myself in a position where I might do something stupid because I’m feeling weak and needy, and lonely down to my bones. It isn’t fair at all, but I can’t turn him away, so I nod and walk into my room, saying a silent prayer that I can be strong enough for both of us.

  9

  Dominic

  I look around Hannah’s room, taking in the photos that she’s pinned up in a very similar way to mine. There’s what looks like her whole family; mom, dad, an old guy that looks like a grandparent and a sweet little girl. Her bed has a handmade quilt that looks like it’s some kind of heirloom, and above her desk, there’s a kid’s painting; two colorful stick figures under a giant yellow sun.

  I pull out the chair from her desk and lower myself onto it. It’s a small chair and I feel big and burly perched on it in her girlie room. Hannah fusses around, looking for the TV remote. She seems spooked and in need of the distraction. Whoever was in that car outside has her seriously freaking out.

  I don’t like it. I don’t like it one bit.

  She puts on an old ‘America’s Got Talent’ and I groan. Fuck this show. All the over the top emotion makes me sick.

  “What? You want to watch a game?” she asks indignantly, and I chuckle.

  “I do have other interests outside of football, you know.”

  “Oh yeah. What?”

  I shake my head as though I’m disappointed with her lack of belief in my diverse interests. “I like history documentaries.”

  “Oh yeah.”

  “And nature programs.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah!”

  “Well, in that case, you should love America’s Got Talent. It’s the kind of insight into human nature that you just don’t get anywhere else.”

  I laugh because this girl always seems to have an answer for everything, and there’s something about her that reminds me of Lana. That spark and determination. It should make me sad, but I find it kinda comforting.

  She starts the show and
goes to sit on her bed. It’s awkward for me to watch from where I am, but I feel weird getting up to sit next to her where she usually sleeps. We’ve only been speaking for a few days and even though I feel a connection with her that I wasn’t expecting, it still feels too much. We get about five minutes into the show and a girl is giving an amazing vocal performance when I remember why I insisted on coming in. I stand and walk to the window. I see Hannah tense as I pass her. She was definitely using the show as a distraction and I guess my watchfulness has reminded her of the potential danger that could be lurking outside. I pull back the drapes at the corner and look both ways on the street outside.

  “It’s clear,” I tell her quickly because I know she must be stressing.

  She doesn’t reply immediately and I stay at the window, watching out for the car.

  “That’s good,” she says quietly. “Look, if you want to head off…”

  I turn from the window and study her. It’s bright in the room and I can see that she’s tired from the hint of blue beneath her eyes. Her gorgeous hair tumbles over her shoulders, making her look like a lost princess from a fairy-tale. Most of all she looks small and fragile, and I know that I won’t feel right leaving her like this. I go and sit next to her on the bed and turn back to watch the show. I need to show her that I’m not going to just leave her to face this shit — whatever it is — alone. Hannah seems to sink down a little into the pillows on her bed, as though she’s relieved.

  “Thanks,” she says in a small voice that reminds me of Bethany.

  I reach out and take hold of her tiny hand, noticing how big my palm is in comparison. Her skin is warm and soft and I get this rush of protectiveness that hits me in the gut. I know that the reaction I’m having to Hannah and her situation is maybe more extreme than any other guys, because of what happened to Lana. I know how easy it is for something that seems like nothing to turn into a situation so bad, there is no coming back from it.

  Hannah must be wondering, and I know I need to explain before she starts to think I’m a freak. I take a deep breath because I never talk about this. My friends from high school know, but it isn’t the kind of thing you go around sharing unless there is a good reason. This feels like a good reason. I clear my throat, because whenever I think about Lana, it seems to get tighter.

  “Five years ago, something real bad happened to my sister.” I squeeze Hannah’s hand and look at the place we’re connected because I can’t look at her when I talk about this. “I don’t want to go over the whole story, but what I will tell you is I wasn’t there to help her when she needed someone. She didn’t confide in anyone about what was happening to her, and I was too young to see the signs.” I pause, squeezing her hand a little tighter. “I know you must have your reasons for keeping things to yourself or wanting to deal with it in your own way. But you gotta understand that you’re putting yourself at risk by doing that…and I’m not prepared to just walk away when I’ve got a bad feeling in my bones.”

  “I’m sorry about your sister,” she says gently. “But you don’t have to feel responsible for me.”

  “I don’t feel responsible for you,” I say. “I feel a responsibility towards you. For whatever reason, god or fate or karma or whatever has put us together at this moment.”

  “I think it was the university administration,” she says, trying to make light of things.

  “Maybe it’s just coincidence. But to me, it feels like something more.”

  I hear the hitch in her breathing when she starts to cry, and on impulse I drop her hand and put my arm around her shoulders, pulling her into me. I get the feeling that she doesn’t often allow herself to be vulnerable like this because she holds herself rigidly in my arms at first. When I whisper to her that it’s going to be okay, she relaxes, letting her face burrow into my shirt. I feel her tears soak through to my skin and I hold her tight while she weeps. I can feel how much she needs to let it out. It’s only when she seems to be cried out that I tip her face and use my thumb to brush away the tears that line her cheeks.

  “It’s gonna be okay,” I say again, with as much certainty as I can muster.

  Hannah looks at me with so much gratitude. It’s as though the emotional relief of believing even for a moment that things aren’t as bad as they seemed has given her back her confidence. Seconds pass, and I feel a swell of something between us that is bigger than it should be. I know she’s going to kiss me before she actually does. Maybe before she knows herself. It’s as though my mouth knew hers before our lips even touched.

  She starts the kiss but in a second I take control. I slide my hand into her hair and grip so I can angle my mouth to hers. There’s no preamble, no soft tasting of each other that you’d expect from a first kiss. In a flash, I feel ignited. Every slide of my tongue over hers is electric. She feels tiny and insubstantial in my grasp and I feel her body shiver as I grip her tighter.

  I think that might be what sets her off because she suddenly goes from zero to sixty, grabbing onto my biceps and squeezing, seemingly seeking out hunks of muscle to grab on to it in a frenzied way that I hadn’t really expected. Fuck, it feels good, so good that I moan; a big reverberating sound that makes her pause. I don’t want her to stop. I don’t want her to come to her senses and realize that this is a bad idea.

  I haul her onto my lap before she has a chance to open her mouth. She’s so small compared to me. Her knees are raised off the bed by the size of my thighs and the way she’s clinging to me, it’s as though she feels she might fall.

  I want to tell her, ‘I’ve got you, baby,’ but I’m scared that if I speak, she’ll tell me we have to stop, and I can tell she doesn’t want to by the way she’s grabbing at me again. Showing her will be better so I put one hand back into her hair and the other grasps her hip, fingers reaching all the way around to her ass. The way I tug her against me mashes her pussy against my cock. We’re at least four layers of clothing apart but I know she can feel it. It’s only half hard and it’s already close to pushing out the waistband of my joggers.

  It’s been a while since I wanted a girl because of what she had to say as much as what she has goin’ on. Knowing she’s smart and driven only makes me want her more, but it’s the smart and driven parts of her that are going to be thinking that we’re making a big mistake. She’s my tutor and I’m her student.

  I know that makes this difficult.

  But not enough to stop.

  10

  Hannah

  I feel like a baby koala, trying to hang on to a giant eucalyptus tree and not quite having the strength or the grip to do it successfully. The thing is that I don’t really need either. Big D has this down.

  As he tugs me against the huge thing that seems to fascinate girls all across the campus, I know I should be putting the brakes on.

  I know this is stupid. I’m all tear-streaked and blotchy and this definitely isn’t the time for me to be taking a first step towards breaking my rule. Dominic, for all his reputation, is a decent guy. Decent guys just don’t work in my world. And anyway, maybe he’s only doing this because he feels sorry for me.

  I know all this, but neither the sensible stuff nor the doubts that are rushing through my head makes me pull back and say the words I should be saying.

  No.

  Stop.

  I know if I said either of them, Big D would do it immediately. It wouldn’t matter how jacked up he was, or how hard the cock that I’m now grinding myself against was. I know he’d care enough about how I feel to pause and take it into consideration. I wouldn’t be kissing him if he wasn’t that guy.

  But oh, the kiss is something else. Every nerve ending that I have seems to be on high alert. His hands grip my face like I’m a delicious drink he just has to keep savoring. His lips are so soft and the way he moves his tongue has me thinking about fucking in ways I haven’t for a long time.

  “Hannah,” he says, pulling away from my lips to kiss my jaw, my neck, the tops of my breasts. My chest is heaving l
ike I’ve just been for a run. His breath is so hot on my skin I flush with the heat of it.

  “Dom,” I murmur back. My brain forms the next part of the sentence. ‘We shouldn’t do this,’ but it never reaches my lips, because Big D is there, sipping at me again, running his hands back and forth from my ribs to my ass. It’s a mesmerizing rhythm that makes me boneless and weak. My hips seem to have a life of their own, rising up to press my clit against his cock. His hands push up my blouse, fluffing the fabric as if to show his intention. It’s cute that I sense he’s giving me time to tell him he’s going too far too fast. Half of me thinks he is, and the other half of me, the sex-starved part that has been imagining him pushing his huge cock inside me for months, wants to scream at him to get on with it.

  And it’s not just about the sex. He’s here in my room because he didn’t want to leave me alone and scared. It’s been so long since anyone wanted to take care of me that way. The mistakes I made forced me to grow up more quickly than I would have liked, and I’m not my mom’s only focus these days. With my rule, I’ve prevented myself from forming any meaningful relationships that could have filled that void. It really does feel like a void, too. When I’m alone, I feel achingly empty, although I’d never admit that to anyone. I don’t deserve the luxury of self-indulgent thoughts like that. I have people counting on my focus and my determination.

  The first graze of Big D’s thumbs against the tips of my nipples sends all rational thought sailing right out of my head. He doesn’t pinch like I expect him to. Those big digits of his just rub and worry at my aching nipples like he’s trying to work out which button to press on the TV remote in the dark. It has me leaning into him, trying to increase the contact and pressure.

  “You like that,” he says gruffly, kissing my lips harder like the thought that I’m turned on is turning him on even more.

  “Mmmm,” I moan, gripping his wrist and mashing his right hand over my aching breast. He squeezes hard, pinching my nipple so meanly that I cry out. His massive palm, the thing that makes him a beast at throwing and catching, also makes him a pro at this. He tears at my bra, pulling it down and it feels so crazily good I buck against him.