Make My Move (Hannaford Prep) by J Bree

Author:J Bree [Bree, J]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-04-13T23:00:00+00:00

It’s impossible to properly mope and wallow with Lips around.

For one, I hate looking fucking pathetic around her, even if she doesn’t judge me fucking once the entire time I’m here, but I also can’t look at her without fucking craving her. I want to wrap myself around her when she’s studying, I want to listen to her hum quietly under her breath while she’s flipping pancakes, and I for-fucking-sure want to see what noises I can coax out of her while I’m fucking her raw on the couch.

I need something to fucking distract me from how badly I want her.

So, when she offers me a joint if I’ll take a shower, I fucking jump at it. She opens all of the windows like the idea of sucking in any secondhand smoke is a crime but I’m too fucking eager for it to give a shit.

The shower really does make me feel better.

She’s too fucking good at this caretaker shit.

Then I eat the pancakes like an obedient little fucking worm, gulping down the coffee that she makes fucking perfectly for me. When I’m done, she hands me a bowl of ice cream, the same way my mom used to after my dad would yell at me, like our own little secret. It always made me feel like we were together in dealing with Dad.

It was before he broke her down, before she chose her marriage over her son, and before I decided to stop hoping she’d leave the fucking asshole, just run away from him together and be broke but fucking happy.

I don’t want the ice cream now but she’s so fucking invested in it that I take it.

I try to distract myself from the bullshit threatening to take over in my head again. “What’s your earliest memory, Mounty? No wait, don’t answer that. It’s probably really fucking bad and I’ll feel like a pussy for comparing.”

She laughs at me quietly, the raspy sound washing over me like some kind of communion. I finally light the joint, sucking in a great lungful and blowing the smoke out the window. I’m not addicted but, fuck, it helps chase away some of the shadows playing around in my head.

Lips clears her throat. “My mom rolling joints on the back steps to our house. It was too hot to move and I kept crying and pissing her off so she filled a bucket with water and dumped me in it. I think she was trying to be cruel but it was the best feeling ever.”

What a cunt.

But bonding over shit parents is what I do best. “My father’s office. A modernist nightmare of cold steel and crisp white boxes. I’ve fallen asleep on his weird couch, that doesn’t even have cushions, under his suit jacket. I wake up but I keep my eyes shut because even at five years old I know that when my parents talk in that hushed secret way they’re talking about me. My mom is telling my dad that ‘normal’ children can’t read by age five and to lower his expectations.

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