Mistletoe Bully

by Amy Brown

  I’d be lying if I didn’t admit I’m a little excited to see her. She drives me nuts, yet I yearn to inhale her sweet perfume and look into her blue grey eyes. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Maybe it’s simply the fact that I can’t have her that makes me want her. What we did in the closet is the only time I’ll be that intimate with her, and I suppose that little taste makes me want more. Forbidden fruit; it got Adam into a fuck load of trouble.

  When I’d thought she might die right in front of me, I’d experienced some bizarre emotions. A part of me didn’t want to care, but still I found myself racing her to the hospital. She wasn’t my problem, and yet I’d thought of nothing other than getting her to safety. I wasn’t really a hero kinda guy. Generally, I stood back and let Rudy handle everything. But when Adalee had walked up, white as milk, gasping for air, something inside of me had kicked into action. I think even Rudy was shocked at my reaction.

  No more so than me.

  Promptly at 6:00 p.m., Adalee’s uncle drives up to the gate. I buzz them in and after a few minutes the doorbell rings. I let Leticia the housekeeper open the door for her. I don’t want to look too eager by running down to let her in. I’m in the den, and I have a few of my favorite math books stacked on the table.

  When Adalee enters the room she looks overwhelmed. Her eyes are wide as she looks around the walnut paneled room, taking in the moose head over the fireplace. Personally, the moose is a bit overkill for me, but dad goes in for those types of decorative touches. His taste is not my taste.

  “Come in,” I say. I stand so she can see me because the room is a little dark. I have a fire crackling, and one desk lamp turned on. But it’s a big room and it tends to be a bit gloomy.

  She approaches, and I notice she has a large white bandage on her arm. Other than that, she looks normal. Better than normal actually, she manages to look gorgeous in just a white T-shirt, black hoodie, and skinny jeans. I’m annoyed when my pulse quickens.

  “Thanks for doing this.” She drops her backpack on the floor near the chair.

  “I’d say it’s my pleasure, but we both know that’s not true.” I smirk.

  She sighs. “Yeah. Trust me, you’re the last person I want to have to come to for help.”

  “I guess it’s beginning to be a habit to help you.”

  Grimacing, she nods. Her eyes are dark and she sits down quickly. “Thank you, again, for saving me. My life I mean.” She gestures toward the math books and calculators. “And for saving me with math.”

  “Well, I haven’t saved you yet with math. You suck pretty bad, let’s see if I can even help you before you thank me.”

  “I hope so. I need to keep my GPA up.”

  “Don’t we all?” I open my favorite math book, and she leans in. I can smell her familiar perfume, and I grit my teeth against my body’s instinctive reaction to her. I want to ignore her physical charms, but it’s easier said than done. “I think we can both agree you didn’t grasp the concept of irrational numbers at all.”

  “You can say that again.” She laughs. “I’ve never been good at math. Not even basic math. I’m an art major, what can I say?”

  “Well, whether you like it or not you have to pass math.”

  “I know. That’s why I’m here, remember?” She frowns.

  I nod and begin to lead her through the first chapter on irrational numbers. She listens attentively, and I know she’s trying to comprehend what I’m saying. I watch her as I speak, and it’s obvious math makes no sense to her brain. She has a little line between her brows, which for some reason I find adorable. I’m never going to be able to teach her anything if I keep getting distracted by her looks.

  I continue explaining the math problems, and I make her do the work herself. I find my students learn best when I do a couple of the problems for them, and then make them do the rest while I talk them through it. When they just watch me do it, they think they have it, but they usually don’t. Then when they take a test, they’re lost, and they fail.

  “So if I take a rational number, and I multiply it by an irrational number, I get an irrational number?” She raises her brows.

  “Yes.” I nod, happy she seems to have grasped at least that concept. “You can prove it by a proof through contradiction.”

  She looks lost again.

  “Am I speaking Greek?”

  “You might as well be.” She groans. “I just don’t have a math brain. How the hell am I gonna pass this class?”

  I don’t quite get why she can’t grasp it because it’s easy for me. But I can see she isn’t faking. It truly just makes no sense to her. “We’ve only been working at this for an hour. No one learns this in an hour.”

  “Liar. Lots of people do.”

  I laugh. “True. Well, we can’t be good at everything.”

  “I don’t need to be good at everything, but I do need to pass.” She winces. “I’ll take a low C happily.”

  I don’t bother to tell her this, but she’ll be lucky if she gets a low C. “That’s why you have me, remember?”

  She studies me, her expression enigmatic. “I don’t understand why you’re helping me.”

  “I don’t want Mr. Glenn mad at me. He relies on me a lot to tutor his weakest students.”

  She nods slowly. “Yeah. That makes sense.”

  Something about her tone irks me. “Meaning what?”

  She shrugs. “Just that you really do care a lot about the opinions of others.”

  I lean back in my chair and cross my arms. “You act like you don’t care at all. I’m not buying it. Maybe you don’t care as much as me, but everybody cares a little what other people think.”

  She grimaces. “I only care about the opinions of people I respect.”

  “Well, I respect Mr. Glenn.”

  “Okay. That’s fair.”

  I’m irrationally pleased that she approves of my reasoning. What the hell do I care what this crazy chick thinks? Yet, I seem to. “Anyway, we should get back to this.” I lean toward the table again, and point to a math problem. “Try that one.”

  She grits her teeth and picks up her pencil. “All right.” She scribbles on the paper and I watch her struggling.

  She has long slender fingers, and her nails are short but glossy. Sabrina always wears bright red nail polish and little gems on her long nails. I prefer Adalee’s nails. Sabrina is always trying to get attention. I remember in the closet, when Adalee had tangled her hands in my hair, I still remember the blunt scrape of her nails against my scalp.

  Why am I fixating on Adalee’s nails?

  I force myself to focus on the math book, not on any physical aspects of Adalee. I’m her tutor, she’s not here for a date. I make her do thirty more problems. She gets 90% of them wrong. But that’s better than when the day began, and I begin to feel almost hopeful.

  The door to the den opens suddenly, and Dad walks in. I tense immediately, because he looks drunk. He’s surprised to see Adalee, but a salacious gleam appears in his eyes.

  “Who have we here?” He runs his gaze over Adalee.

  Anger spikes through me at his pervy behavior. She’s not even eighteen, and he’s in his fifties. Why is he looking at her as if he has a shot with a girl her age? He’s gross. “You’re home,” I say flatly.

  He shifts his gaze to me, and his expression changes and becomes hard. “Obviously.”

  Yeah, he’s drunk. Whenever he drinks he gets mean. Especially toward me. “When we talked earlier, you said you might not come home tonight.” Is he so drunk he forgot our conversation? He’d said he was spending the night at some chick’s house. Something must’ve gone wrong because he’s home and he’s in a bad mood.

  He ignores my comment and comes closer. “You haven’t introduced me to your friend yet.” The way he runs his eyes over Adalee is disgusting.

  She shifts uncomfortably, and actually leans toward me even more. Her unconscious gesture makes me feel protective. I put my arm along the back of her chair, hoping t
o discourage my dad from making a fool of himself.

  “This is Adalee Winston.” My tone is gruff.

  “Winston.” He mulls the name over. “Ah, yes, Julie’s niece.”

  “You know my aunt?” Adalee looks surprised.

  “Yes. We’ve done business together in the past. I helped arrange financing for her a long time ago for a few corporate ventures.”

  “That was nice of you,” she says softly.

  He shrugs. “I’m good at making money, so I helped out.”

  I hate it when my dad brags about money. It seems gauche to me.

  “You certainly must be very wealthy. Your home is beautiful.” Adalee smiles.

  “Thanks. Maybe I can give you a private tour later.” His smile is smug as he stands over her.

  Give it a rest old man.

  I’m tempted to stand up to push him away, but I know that wouldn’t go well. I can smell the whiskey on his breath all the way across the room. All I need to do is give him a reason to start swinging on me and he’ll take it.

  “I’m tutoring Adalee.” I hold my dad’s gaze trying not to flinch. I’ll admit my dad scares me. His temper is violent, and I’m his favorite punching bag since mom died. “We should probably get back to it.”

  “Is that your tactful way of telling me to fuck off?” He grumbles.

  “No. But Adalee is struggling enough without any distractions.”

  “What about you, Adalee? Do you want me to leave?” He reaches out and touches a strand of her hair, curling it around his finger. She looks startled and presses closer to me.

  I’m pissed when he touches her hair. How fucking dare he touch her when he doesn’t even know her? What is wrong with him? I don’t want to get into it with him in front of Adalee, but I can’t just stand by and let him molest her either. It’s my fault she’s even on his radar right now. I never should have brought her here.

  I reach out and tug her hair free from his grasp, and he narrows his eyes at me. “Seriously, Dad, you should go. We have a ton of work to do.”

  He looks stunned that I dared to interrupt his grand seduction. He’s used to me cowering, I guess. I know I’m going to pay for this later, but it’s worth it as long as he goes away. I’d kind of forgotten what a pervert Dad is. Maybe next time I tutor Adalee we should do it at the library.

  “I don’t remember asking you, Palmer,” Dad snaps.

  “I really am horrible at math,” Adalee says quietly. “Any distractions and I completely lose my train of thought.” She’s trying to defuse the situation. Her face is tense, and I sense that she knows my dad is angry with me.

  He gives her a polite smile, but the look he gives me his threatening. I appreciate her effort, but it won’t do any good. Dad will have his revenge later, regardless. I don’t even care. I’m so used to his shit, it almost seems normal to me. I’ll try to avoid him as long as possible, but eventually he’ll catch up to me.

  He points at me. “We’ll talk later.” He turns unsteadily and makes his way toward the door. “I’m going into town. You two are no fun.” He slams the door behind him.

  Once he’s gone, a heavy silence falls. “He’s drunk.” I’m not sure why I think I need to say that. It’s pretty obvious he’s toasted.

  “I see.” She shivers.

  “Sorry. He likes to flirt.” I clear my throat. “Shall we get back to it?”

  She groans. “I don’t think I can absorb anymore.”

  I have to agree; we’ve been at it for over two hours. She’s probably reached the saturation point. I close the book with a thump. “Okay. I can tutor you again Tuesday night. But let’s meet at the library.” I’m sure I don’t need to explain why.

  “Okay.” She pulls hers cell from her hoodie pocket. “I’ll just text Uncle Joe to come get me.

  For some reason I say, “I’ll take you home.”

  She looks surprised at my offer. “Really?”

  I grimace. “I was maybe gonna run into town later anyways to hang out with friends. No reason to drag your uncle out on a cold night.” I wasn’t planning on going into town, but it does seem silly to make her uncle come get her when I can easily run her home.

  “Friends.” She gets a funny look on her face. “You mean Sabrina?”

  I’m surprised she sounds a little miffed. Of course, she has good reason to hate Sabrina. I like to think she’s jealous, it does my ego good, but it’s probably just good old-fashioned hatred. “No. If I met up with anyone it would probably be Rudy.”

  “Oh.”

  I study her, taking in her full mouth and long, dark lashes. She’s so pretty. I can’t stop looking at her. My eyes drop to the perky curve of her breast beneath her fitted T-shirt. My dick stirs and I tell myself to stop thinking of her sexually. I decide to bring up the whole tripping thing to distract myself from ogling her body.

  I clear my throat. “Look, I… uh…I wanted to tell you that I had no idea Sabrina was going to try and trip you the other night. I wouldn’t have gone along with that… especially after… you know… what we did in the closet together.”

  Her cheeks tint pink and she winces. “Oh, yeah. That was surreal.”

  “Definitely.”

  She twists her lips. “You didn’t look surprised. I mean, when she tripped me… you didn’t show any feelings.”

  “I’m good at hiding my emotions.”

  “Yeah,” she murmurs. “You actually are.”

  I grimace. “I should have tried to catch you. I didn’t react fast enough.”

  “It’s fine.”

  It’s nice of her to let me off the hook, but I still feel like a jerk for just watching her fall. “Sabrina is just jealous of you. She acts like a bitch when she’s jealous.”

  “Are you her boyfriend?” she asks softly.

  I recoil. “God no.” Does she think I’d have done those things with her in that closet if I had a girlfriend? She truly must have a low opinion of me. “She is not my girlfriend.”

  A small smile touches her lips. “She acts like she is.” Her smile fades as a spark of distaste passes through her gaze. “You sleep with her though.” It’s not a question.

  My cheeks warm like a fucking virgin. What the hell do I care what she thinks of me? I can sleep with whomever I want, and I don’t owe Adalee any excuses or explanations about my sex life. “What if I do?”

  She shrugs. “I just think she’s horrid.”

  “She’s a colossal bitch, but she’s good in bed.” That was probably a dumb thing to say because Adalee immediately stands up.

  She looks irritable. “I’d like to go now, please.”

  I’m oddly disappointed she wants to bolt so quickly. But I’m sure as shit not going to show her that. What did I think was gonna happen: we were gonna watch a movie together and share a bowl of popcorn?

  “No problem. Let’s go.” I gesture toward the door. “After you, Ice Princess.”

  Her mouth hardens. “Just when I start to think maybe you’re not an asshole, you act like an asshole.”

  I lean in toward her, and our faces are only inches apart. Her perfume fills my nostrils, and my eyes dropped to her full lips. “That’s because I am an asshole, Adalee. Best you remember that.”

  She lifts her chin and strides toward the door, and I follow.

  Once outside, I unlock my car with the beeper, and we get in. I start the engine and she stares out the window, her jaw set like stone. I drive down the long driveway and out onto the main road. The silence in the car is uncomfortable, so I turn on the radio. Hello Bitches by CL comes on, and I can’t help but laugh.

  She glances over. “What’s so funny?”

  I shake my head. “Nothing.”

  She’s quiet for a few more minutes, then she says, “Is your dad going to be mad at you later?”

  Her question catches me by surprise. I’m not sure exactly how to answer. I can’t tell her the truth, but I feel like she’s intuitive enough she suspects my dad isn’t a nice guy. I shrug, throwing
off a I don’t give a fuck vibe.

  “He’ll cool off once he sobers up.”

  Her gaze is pinned on me, but I keep my eyes on the road. Adalee’s gaze can be very piercing sometimes. I don’t want her figuring out my dirty little family secret.

  “Where’s your mother?” Her voice is hesitant.

  I wince inwardly. Mom has been gone for years, but I still hate saying she’s dead out loud. I’m not sure why. It’s real either way, but I hate those words. However, it occurs to me that Adalee has also lost her mom. I remember that night at the quarry when she’d been so heart broken. That was when I’d first started to think maybe I should lighten up on her.

  “Never mind. It’s none of my business,” she says softly.

  I sigh. “Mom died a couple of years ago.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry.”

  “Rudy told me you lost your parents recently?” I don’t mention the quarry. She’d be embarrassed if she knew I’d been there, and I’m uncomfortable about witnessing her raw emotions.

  “Yes.” She goes back to staring out the window. “It still doesn’t feel real.”

  “Yeah.”

  She looks over again. “How long was it before you felt less… sad.”

  “I still feel sad. I miss her every day. I wish I could tell you different, but I’d be lying.” I’m sure she doesn’t appreciate my candor, but she needs to hear the truth. After Mom died, everyone kept telling me time would heal my pain. They were fucking liars. Closure isn’t a real thing. When you lose someone you love, there will never be closure. Grief isn’t a fucking box of cereal. There will always be a gaping hole where that person should be.

  She hugs herself. “I was afraid of that.”

  I pull up in front of her aunt and uncle’s house, and park in the driveway. She opens the door, and climbs out. Then she bends down and says, “Thanks for telling me the truth.”

  I lift one shoulder. “Sure. What are enemies for?”

  She gives a funny little laugh, and slams the door shut. I watch her until she reaches her door, and goes inside. Then I drive away.