Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 74875 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74875 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
My top was black, covered in sequins, and barely came to just over my shoulders at the top.
The rest of it was tucked into my skirt where a wide bright pink, stretchy belt, also covered in sequins, completed the ensemble.
My sandals were flat, ugly, and needed to be replaced.
Unfortunately, since I had such a small foot, my best friend couldn’t share her shoes with me like she’d done the top and the skirt.
Krisney, my best friend since I was old enough to walk, had grown over the summer, and although we were still the same size clothes-wise, she had a foot that was two sizes bigger than mine.
Meaning we could no longer share shoes like we once did.
“Watch your step.”
Startled, I looked down at my feet, and saw that I was inches away from stepping into a hole the size of a small tire.
“Thanks,” I smiled, looking up at the boy—man.
That short beard and deep voice, as well as multitude of tattoos, screamed that this ‘boy’ by age, but man by appearance, wouldn’t appreciate being called a boy.
“Hello, Tate.” I smiled.
I didn’t know Tate well.
If I were being honest, I wasn’t sure anyone knew Tate all that well except for Tate himself.
He was quiet, reserved, and standoffish on the best of days.
He must be having a good day.
I was convinced that the angry boy was bi-polar. He seemed fine as long as there were no adults around. The moment that someone from the church, whether it be my dad or a freakin’ elderly grandmother, came around, Tate was hiding.
I’d always wanted to ask him why, but that was also another thing I wasn’t allowed to do—talk to Tate Casey.
My father had laid that ground rule out a long time ago, and seeing me here next to him would likely set my dad off into conniptions.
“Oh, great,” Tate muttered under his breath. “The band is coming!”
I snorted and looked over at him.
“You don’t like music?” I asked.
He snorted. “Love music. Journey, George Strait, Garth Brooks, Jimmy Hendrix?”
I didn’t know who any of those men were, but I nodded as if I did. My father allowed me to listen to Christian bands, and Christian bands only. The one and only time I tried to listen to Britney Spears, he broke my radio by throwing it out the second story window.
That’d been one lesson I’d never wanted to repeat.
“Those men are music. The crap that the church band plays? Yeah, that’s all shit.”
I wanted to laugh, but that would be encouraging him, and I wasn’t very sure that I should be talking to him in the first place. Not with my father only a few feet away, talking to his congregation.
“I’m sorry to hear that you don’t like them,” I told him. “Did you get something to eat?”
Maybe a change of subject would help.
“Yeah, had a hot dog,” he answered. “You got a bug on your skirt.”
I looked down, and it wasn’t just a bug that was on my skirt. It was a giant, icky, gross roach.
I squealed and flicked it off, only for it to crawl further up my side and around my backside.
“Get it off!” I screamed, turning around like a chicken with its head cut off.
Tate did, brushing his hand once over my backside, and then stomping on the offending bug.
And that was when my dad rushed over and lost it.
“What are you wearing?” he growled, yanking me to his side with a harsh hand on my bicep.
“I’m wearing a skirt?” I whispered, making it sound as if it was a question instead of a statement like I’d meant it to be.
“You’re wearing so little clothes that every single man here is having illicit thoughts about you. Go inside right now, and stay in my office until it’s time to leave,” he ordered, shaking me slightly.
Tears started to form in my eyes.
“But the game…”
He held up his hand for silence, and squeezed my arm with the other.
“What. Did. I. Tell. You?”
I licked my lips.
“Yes, sir.”
My father growled something low and angry, and then pushed me away. “Go.”
I went.
***
I fastened the final clip, and then smoothed my skirt down my thighs.
After taking one final look in the mirror, I walked out of my bedroom and straight to the front walkway where I kept my keys and phone.
After making sure that I was ready, I walked to the door and opened it.
It was when I was halfway to work, however, that I decided that maybe I wasn’t all that sure about this man. Why did I care if I dressed up around him or not? He wasn’t going to see what was underneath.
Chapter 5
Thongs—the best thing since sliced bread.
-Tate’s secret thoughts
Tate
She was wearing a thong.
The skirt she had on today was shorter…way shorter.
It was also skin tight, and I had a feeling that she had no clue that she was showing me the goodies.