Chapter 2: Motherfucking Badass
Note: Thanks for all the support for the first chapter! All feedback is appreciated. Still a slow burn, I’m afraid. But I’m hoping it will be worth it in the end! Let me know what you think of this chapter?
————
It’s day four of my purgatory known as suspension from school and Will Decker, detective extraordinaire, is in my house and still hasn’t quit being my babysitter. I’m either doing something wrong, or something right. I haven’t quite decided which one it is yet.
Today has been mostly boring and also a little bit odd. Earlier this morning I got a message from Micah asking to come over and make up.
‘Babes, sozzles about b4. Can I cum ova?’
Firstly, who after 2004 uses the word ‘sozzles’ instead of ‘sorry’? IT REQUIRES MORE LETTERS TO TYPE. And secondly; ‘cum’. Really? ‘Cum’??
That’s all I have to say about that.
Suffice to say that this morning started poorly. So Micah says he’s sorry… the last time I trusted him, I let him fuck me in the back of his Mazda, and that just made everything shit.
Still, a small part of me is kind of like, ‘screw it, invite Micah over’. I have to turn that part of my brain off, wrap it up and lock it in a basement like a secret second family. I know for a fact that anything to do with Micah is trouble.
“Hey loser,” I say to Will as I walk into the kitchen.
Kate left for work at two this afternoon, and so Will’s been here ever since. He rushed through the door all brooding and snippy, like he’d had a hard day at work. He’s currently cooking me dinner, which I suppose is something I should be grateful for. One of the good things about Will that I’ve learnt since he’s started baby-sitting me is that he can really cook. It’s nice having decent food for a change. Food with spices, food with flavour. It’s a damned revelation.
Although I’m not about to tell Detective Decker that. Don’t want him thinking I actually like him or anything he does. That would be…indecent.
Will turns and nods, the barest acknowledgement of my existence, which really, is that too much to ask? He then focuses his attention back into the chopping board in front of him, because God forbid we have any further human contact. Today, like the Monday prior, he is cold as fuck and speaks in, like, two word increments. Occasionally I get a half-smile, which is really just a mouth twitch, but I take what I can get. Evidently I am socially starved.
“What’s for dinner?” I ask, sitting up on the kitchen bench and leaning back on my palms. I swing my legs, tapping my feet against the wood of the bench. Will doesn’t even bother to turn around and look at me when I speak, not even to tell me off for sitting on the counter. Usually Kate yells at me when I do this, but I guess Will doesn’t give a shit on account of the fact that he doesn’t actually live here.
“Salmon,” he replies, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Fancy,” I don’t know why but I’m in the mood for a conversation, maybe it’s because I’ve had a weird day, maybe it’s because Will is now one of the few people in my life who doesn’t think I’m a pariah.
“Were you at work today?” I nod towards the papers on the kitchen table.
He grunts and I think that’s a confirmation. It’s kind of hard to tell. I wonder briefly about how Will actually functions at work. Like, does he grunt to his colleagues? To his boss? To people that come in? Do all detectives do this? Was there a time that Will once spoke in a normal human way or was he born like this? I have so many questions, but even I know it’d be rude to ask. So I settle for snarky comments instead.
“You don’t talk much, do you?”
He stops chopping vegetables and turns to pin me with a long look. Were it not for the slight quirk at the corner or his mouth, I’d think he was annoyed. But there’s a lightness in his eyes and it plays with my stomach something fierce. It’s the first time I’ve noticed his lips are actually quite full, which is a bit unfair since he’s a guy. Guys aren’t supposed to have lips like that. Especially not steely-as-fuck detectives. They’re supposed to be thin-lipped and weasely. Although there’s nothing weasely about Decker.
“You do plenty enough talking for the both of us.” he quips. I can’t help but let my mouth fall open. The man has a sense of humour after all.
“You’re so sassy,” I find myself whispering, “I thought gruff, steely detectives didn’t do sassy.”
He shrugs, turning back to focus on the chopping.
With no response from Will, I ease myself off the bench and stroll over to the chopping board, leaning against the bench there. I spend about ten minutes staring at Will slice and dice vegetables and fuss around the kitchen, occasionally making comments like ‘Go Will, chop that carrot, fucking show it who’s boss.‘ and ‘don’t let the Salmon win like that,’ which Will just ignores. I figure giving Will positive reinforcement is my contribution to dinner tonight.
Finally I get tired of my narration and decide to prompt Will for further conversation.
“You want to play a boardgames after dinner or do you need to work?”
“Ok,” he nods, sparing me a brief look. For a moment my heart does this little, neurotic pitter-patter.
“Ok, you’ll play a boardgames or ok, you need to work?”
“Ok,” he replies. He’s busy looking in the oven but I can see the upwards twitch of his mouth. Clearly he’s not going to be giving me any more than one word answers now.
“Fine, fine, I’m going to get out of your hair then.” I flourish dramatically out of the kitchen, “Call me when dinner is ready, Butler,” I shout, throwing myself down on the lounge.
For a moment, the sound of cooking pauses, and then resumes a beat later. I smile to myself, at least today has gotten better. It beats the drudgery of doing nothing but biting my nails and thinking about the fact that Micah’s carrying on like a pork chop.
I should never have looked at my phone – it never does me any good.
The worst part is? I kind of want to give Micah a chance. Tell him to come over, make amends. But I’ve been burnt before. All that will happen is we have sex again, and then he’ll take a photo or something and send it around.
———-
I stuff the salmon in my face and can’t believe how good it is. It’s been a while since I’ve had something this nutritionally valuable which also tasted amazing.
“So if you marry my sister,” I say, “I need to know will you be cooking like this?”
“Your sister and I aren’t dating.” his eyes flick to me briefly before turning his attention back to his plate.
“Sure, sure,” I nod sagely, as if I am a woman of sophistication and hold all of the world’s secrets. I spear a carrot with my fork and look at it for a moment before stuffing it in my gullet like a whale eating krill.
“You’re very talkative tonight,” Will puts his fork down and gives me a long, blank stare, “Something happen?”
“As you so astutely pointed out before I’m always talkative.”
“You’re especially talkative tonight.”
“Detective Decker, work’s over. There’s no case for you to solve!” I give him my most innocent, angelic smile. I don’t think he’s bought it because he just continues to stare at me blankly.
“I like solving mysteries.”
I can’t stop the laughter from wracking my body. I don’t know if it’s my imagination, but it sounds kind of flirtatious.
“I am not a mystery, Decker,” I snort, “I am an open book. The openest book you’ve ever met.”
All I get from Will is a nod. We finish the rest of the meal in silence. Eventually I get up and clean the dishes. Will continues to look at his files while I scrub up.
————
As it turns out, when he said ‘ok’, he meant ‘ok, let’s play a game’. I manage to convince him to play chess with me, which Will reluctantly, or possibly enthusiastically, agrees to.
Will is surprisingly good at chess, and I’m surprisingly not so good. I don’t know why I thought I’d be good at this game considering I’ve only ever played it, like, five times in my life. My only resource is cheating and Will is all over me like white on rice.
“How was your day?” Will asks, moving his knight to take my queen.
Damn it!
“Did you know chess was invented in 1845 by Chester Von Chessington, Archduke of Chesston?” I reply, attempting to hide the rook I’ve stolen – if he’s going to take my queen, I figure it’s well within my rights to start stealing his pieces. Will just raises one eyebrow and holds his hand out.
“I don’t think that’s true and stop stealing my pieces.”
I throw the rook at him, but he just catches it, and I’m fairly certain he’s like some kind of ninja with lightning reflexes.
“My day was fine.” I sigh.
Liar, Liar. Pants on Fire.
“Your day was not fine.” he counters.
“I thought you didn’t do talking and emotions.” I reply.
He just shrugs and puts my king into checkmate. I look at the board and realise it looks kind of empty.
Did I really lose that many pieces? No Way! I was fairly certain I still had two knights and a rook last move…
“Decker, did you steal my pieces?”
Will just smiles, his mouth quirking upwards at the side. It’s a graceless victory and I can’t believe he had the nerve the cheat when he was being so snooty telling me off.
“I thought no cheating was allowed,” I know I’m smiling, and I’m kind of annoyed because I shouldn’t be encouraging this display of cheating. Especially when I’m not the one doing it.
“Cheating’s fine if you don’t get caught.” Will replies.
We sit for a moment packing up pieces, and I find myself suddenly speaking. Maybe it’s because he made me dinner, or that unlike the other adults in my life, he’s bothered to ask, but I start telling him about my day.
“Micah messaged me,” I start, giving Will a careful look, watching him for any hint of judgement. I see nothing so I continue, “You know, the guy I had sex with.”
Will just nods, he looks kind of uncomfortable, but he’s stopped packing up and is giving me his full attention, so I continue.
“He wants to come over.”
“Do you think that’s a good idea?”
“No. I told him no. But I just…it reminded me of how much I kind of miss him. Do you think it would be a bad idea if I gave him another chance?”
“Do you miss him or do you miss the idea of him?”
“Woah, Decker. That is perceptive,” I know my eyes are wide like saucers. Will is Oprah-fucking-Winfrey all of a sudden. Who knew?
Will winks at me, he actually winks at me and gives me a devastating half grin which makes my heart flip around and slam against my chest like it’s trying to break free. Will Decker is…
Will Decker is hot. Not just that, but I find him hot.
What. The. Actual. Hell.
“You ok there, Lucrezia?”
I know I’m still staring at him with an open mouth, my skin feels hot and tingly. Finally I manage to speak, “Just amazed that you have more than one facial expression.”
Will just gives me a look, which is probably supposed to be sarcastic, but all I can focus on is the sensual fullness of his stupid mouth, the hard cut of his jaw, the masculine build of his body…the list goes on. It’s not freaking fair.
“I don’t imagine you were like Micah with girls at school.” I don’t know what prompts me to say it. Maybe I just want us to keep talking, maybe I just want to have an excuse to keep watching his mouth without looking like a freak.
“No, but I was pretty reckless. Worse than anything you’ve done,” Will sighs before placing a hand on my shoulder in what I assume is supposed to be a comforting way, but all I feel is heat surging from my shoulder to my breasts. Great night to not wear a bra, I’m fairly sure my nipples are poking through the oversized shirt, begging for attention. Thankfully, Will doesn’t seem to notice.
“Don’t invite him over, Lucrezia. Not unless you want me to kick his ass. Besides you’re worth more than a half-hearted fondle.”
“Your patriarchal entitlement over my behaviour is touching,” I nod solemnly, “Don’t call me Lucrezia.” I add as an afterthought.
Will just nods, taking his hand back and turns his attention back to packing up the chess board. I guess our heart to heart is over.
“So, is that how you pull in the ladies?” I realise for a moment that I’m being flirtatious, I can’t help it, he’s magnetic. Before I can stop myself I add, “You give them the old half-hearted fondle?”
Will just raises an eyebrow and gives me a look that I’d never thought he’d send it my direction. It’s half smoulder, half amusement, and a hundred percent devastating.
“My fondles are never half-hearted.” His voice is deep, sexy – I have to bite my lip to stop myself from sighing. I’m bombarded with thoughts of Will’s lips on mine, his hands on my body…God, he has good hands…What would they feel like touching my skin?
Pull yourself together, Portas!
I can’t fantasise about my sister’s thirty-five year old co-worker. It’s so…wrong! For a start, Kate’s keen on him. Furthermore, he is twice my age – the man has wrinkles. For fuck’s sake, Lucy! Clearly this is my final evolution into being a massive slut.
For the first time in my life I’m properly speechless, I can’t think of a single thing to say – no wise cracks, no quick comments. I just stand there and stare at Will, and he stares back at me. I feel too hot for my body, like I need to burst out of it. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this needy for a guy before. It’s like every cell in my body is begging for me to reach out and touch him.
“Go do your homework,” Will says, his soft voice breaking the tension. His face is now void of any expression I’d ever thought I’d seen.
“Ok,” I nod, turning to go upstairs and take a crack at the work I’ve been avoiding for the last three days. It’s all I can do to stop myself from staring at Decker like a gaping fish.
So I sit up in my room and stare at my books and I wonder: what the hell just happened?
Nothing, right?
Definitely nothing. It’d be silly to think there was anything at all. He was clearly just joking, and I, in my attention-starved, feeble teen brain have obviously confused a joke for sexual interest. Who the hell does that?
Yes, yes – I do. I know this, you don’t have to rub it in. But as we’ve covered previously I’m a lonely skank with attachment problems and I misread social cues.
I spend the rest of my evening attempting my homework with all the motivation of a sloth, remembering after this week I actually have to go back to school. I also remember that this is my final year of school and so should spend every waking moment studying for my Higher School Certificate, so I can make something of myself and not be a homeless person living off half-eaten hot dogs and pocket change.
Besides, failing my final exams would hardly impress someone like Will, who is clearly smart and not a homeless person living off half-eaten hot dogs and pocket change.
Not that I want to impress him.
If I wanted to impress him I probably shouldn’t parade around in my dad’s old shirts and sweatpants. I should also probably comb my hair and put a bra on. Although I’m not about to do that on account of the fact it would seem really weird that I was dressing like a normal person all of a sudden.
Of course, there’s also the fact that Kate has a crush on Will. Mostly I shouldn’t want to impress Will because Kate is the one who is interested in him. And maybe he likes her? It’s hard to tell, because Will is a fortress of solitude and quiet. His face is a better mask than actual masks. All I know is that the idea of Will and Kate kind of bothers me.
I push that down, right down. I have no business thinking about Will in any way other than as my sister’s colleague. God damned hormones. Yeah, that must be it – those raging teenage hormones everyone always talks about. Clearly they’re wreaking havoc in my brain making it short-circuit. I take a deep breath and try to focus on the work in front of me.
I remind myself that school is only a few days away. I remind myself that I need to think of how I’m going to catch up on my work. I remind myself that I need to have a strategy for how I’m going to face Micah after ignoring his message. Knowing Micah and everything that’s happened this year, I am going to definitely need a plan.
————
It’s Monday morning and I walk into the school, hair freshly brushed, school uniform in pristine condition, shoes polished. Today I will not be suspended, today I shall be a model student. Today I will make my sister proud.
As soon as I put my bag in my locker, Ashleigh Muller, my only friend sidles up and envelopes me in a huge hug, squeezing me so tightly I wonder if my ribs are going to crack.
“Heyyyyyy,” she says in a high-pitched voice that only teenage girls seem to be able to muster. Then she gets a good look at my face and kind of rears back, “Eurgh. Your bruises are green.”
“Duh, ’cause they’re fading.”
I’d forgotten I had two large bruises on my face from where Courtney B. and Courtney L. got me in the whole punch-up that got me suspended for a week. I reach up to gently touch them, relieved that they no longer hurt, “How’s it going, Ash?” I say.
“Pretty boring without you. Also a pain in the ass to be quite honest. For a whole week I had to sit in English Extension by myself with no one, and I mean no one, willing to harass Mr Ludovic about his tie. And there were some bad ties last week.”
“So he went un-harassed?”
“Yup.”
“But then how would he possibly know whether his tie was ugly or not?”
Ashleigh just shrugs, “Did fuck-face message you?”
“How’d you know?”
“He’s a predicable beast,” Ashleigh says, rolling her eyes. Like all best friends, Ashleigh is obligated to utterly loath Micah and anyone else who messes with me, “Did you message him back?”
“No, I have it on good authority that it would be a bad idea.”
“And whose good authority is that? You have another best friend now?”
I contemplate lying for a moment, but decide against it.
“Babysitter.”
Ashleigh just stops walking and starts laughing hysterically. She laughs so hard she has to bend over, her face is pink and she’s starting to snort. Other students are looking over now and I wonder why I call her my friend, because some times she’s kind of an asshole.
“If you’re able to contain yourself, Muller, we need to get to Maths.”
“I’m sorry,” she gasps, trying to straighten up, she’s still laughing, so it comes out as almost un-intelligable, “A babysitter?”
“Yeah. Because I’m a motherfucking badass and don’t you forget it,” I poke her on her shoulder.
“Language, Portas,” Sister Crick, a battle-axe of a teacher comes waddling over.
I like Sister Crick. She’s cantankerous and mean, but she doesn’t give a shit about the drama I’m involved in and treats me the same as every other student. Which is poorly – but she does it to everyone so it’s okay. She became a teacher back in the day when you didn’t actually have to like kids to do the job.
Despite modern times she still doesn’t feel the need to even slightly pretend that she likes her job, or the students at the school. She’s also the only nun I’ve ever heard swear. She drops c-bombs like it’s a part of the curriculum.
“Welcome back, by the way,” She says it in a way that makes me think she doesn’t actually meant it, “Now get to class, I’m sick of the site of you two in my hallway.”
Ashleigh straightens up, completely sober now and we walk as quickly as we can to math.
As soon as we turn into the Maths classroom, the space is filled by silence. Every single set of eyes is on me as we find our seats. And I know, I know. Something about the teenage experience makes one feel as if they are always being watched by everyone. But this is not one of those moments.
I unfortunately share a Maths class with both Courtney B. and Courtney L. (Who you may recall did the little number on my face), and Micah.
“Hey Lucy,” Andrew Nathan says, leaning from his desk which sits at the right of me, “How’s it going?”
“Fine,” I know I’m tense and tight-lipped but I do not like Andrew Nathan, and not just because his last name is a first name and therefore stupid. But because he treats me like I’m a freak of nature with big tits. He never looks me in the eyes, his gaze usually directed at my chest. And look, I’m in the school uniform. It’s boxy and unsexy and you can barely see any evidence of the two globes of fat that he seems to be obsessed with.
“I’m having a party on the weekend. You should come.”
I just nod and turn my attention back to the front of the class, luckily the teacher has started, saving me from having to give any type of reply.
Halfway through Maths, Andrew passes me a note. It turns out it’s from Micah. It reads:
Babes, meet me outside of Block D at Lunch. I really do want to apologise. I want things to go back to the way they were. – M
I know It’s too good to be true, but I can’t help but hope. I turn around to quickly look at Micah, and he’s looking at me and gives me a kind smile. The same smile he gave me at Dad’s funeral, before he hugged me and told me everything would be okay and that he would always be there for me.
I instantly melt. Maybe he’s being genuine. I scrawl back my affirmation and chuck the letter back to Andrew, who then passes it to Courtney L., and she passes it to Micah who sits behind her.
For the first time in a long time, I feel the anxiety drop from my stomach. Maybe everything will sort itself out.
————
Lunch comes around and I drag my ass to behind Block D. I wait for Micah, and feel relief set into my body when he comes around the corner. He has a big smile on his handsome face and I am reminded of how he used to give that smile to me often before everything turned to shit. It used to melt my knees, but now it barely raises my heart rate.
He pushes the hair off his face – a familiar gesture which I realise something I used to missed.
“Hey, Lucy,” he says, “I’m glad you’re back.”
“Me too. It was a long week away.”
“I’m so sorry about everything, babes.” he moves towards me, “I just…I told Andrew and he told everyone. It just got out of control, you have to believe me. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.” he gestures to the fading bruises on my face.
I nod, it makes sense. I know how these things can go. I’ve experienced it first hand on an all too frequent basis. You tell one person something and all of a sudden it’s across the school like wildfire.
“Do you forgive me?” he continues.
I take a deep breath, “Yeah, I forgive you, Micah.”
He gives me another sweet smile and leans forward, and I realise he’s about to kiss me. I jerk away. Forgiven or not, I’m not about to jump straight into making out with the guy.
“Don’t pull away, let me hold you. I’ve missed you.”
“I’m not ready for that yet.”
He tries to grab me again, but I manage to step away.
“You know I love you, Lucy.” He continues, there’s a determined look in his eyes and the anxiety that I’d thought was gone has reared it’s head. I try to push down the warning siren blaring in my brain.
“Ok,” I say, “I’m going to go back. I’m glad we’ve made up.”
“We’re not made up until you give me a kiss,” He’s still smiling, but there’s a tightness in his eyes, “Just give me one kiss, Lucy, and we’ll be good.”
“I don’t know.”
“It’s me, you know me. I’d never do anything to hurt you. Babes, give me a kiss on the cheek, then everything will be in the past and we can move on.”
I guess it’s ok. It’s just one kiss on the cheek after all.
Except it’s not. And I remember that I’m a moron and Micah’s a colossal asshole. But it’s all too late. As soon as my lips touch his cheek, he turns his head, plants his lips on mine and he arms clamp around me. I struggle to pull away, but he’s too strong. Micah is a red-blooded, eighteen year old male in his prime. There’s no way I can fight him off.
His hand finds it’s way down my body, grabbing my ass, crushing my uniform against my skin, and I continue to struggle. His mouth drags down to my neck, and he sucks the flesh there, pulling my skin into his mouth. I know it’s going to leave a mark. Great.
“Get off me, Micah. I don’t want this.”
“Come on, babes. I love you.”
I manage to manoeuvre myself away from his body, but he still has a vice-like grip on my arm. It’s hurting and I think it might be bruising.
“Let me go, you’re hurting me,” I try and twist my arm away, but his grip just tightens and I swear it’s going to snap.
His other hand is coming to unzip is trousers and I feel bile rise in my throat. He yanks my arm down hard, forcing me to kneel on the rough ground.
“Come on, babes, I’ve missed you. I have blue balls. Just give me a little BJ, and we’ll be good again.”
“Get the fuck away from me,” I spit out.
I don’t care if he breaks my arm now, I am not about to put this guy’s cock in my mouth. I’m furious and I can’t believe that I even thought for one moment that his apology had been genuine. If he’d wanted to apologise he could have done it in class, not needed to go to behind Block D where there’s no one around.
Suddenly Micah’s releasing me and takes a step back. blood rushes through my arm, and I take it back to investigate the damage he’s done. But I don’t get a chance.
“Lucy Portas.” an angry voice booms across the lawn, “You’re back one day and you’re already breaking rules.”
I whip around, still on my knees, and too dumbfounded to get up. It’s Sister Crick and she looks furious. I look back at Micah, and take a moment to see the scene in her eyes. Here I am, renowned slut, on my knees, Micah’s pants unzipped. I know exactly what it looks like.
Fuck. Fuck on a fuck stick. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.
“Get off the ground, and go to the principal’s office.” Her hands are on her hips. I comply quickly, not wanting to anger her any further. Sister Crick’s meltdowns are legendary. Before now I’ve never been the centre of them, “This is disappointing, Portas. I thought you were better than this,” She admonishes bitterly as I pass.
I don’t bother to look back at Micah. As per usual, there’s no consequence for him. I suppose it helps that I’m the one with the reputation, and also that his dad is on the school board. The unfairness is plain to me, but I’m not going to bother arguing. It only ever seems to make things worse. Sister Crick is now another teacher in the long list at this school that probably thinks I’m a tarty delinquent.
I walk up to the Principal’s office, Sister Crick behind me and I know this isn’t going to end well. There’s a real possibility I’m about to get detention, suspension or worse. Either way, I’ve disappointed Kate and I’m barely back at school.
What have I done?