He's Just a Skater Boy (boyxboyxboy)

Chapter 79: The Kiss is in the Eye of the Beholder

[Jacob's POV]

The whole argument was a pointless one, it lasted too long and was the most stupid discussion I could remember having yet, and that was coming from someone mentoring Akara. My father was worse when it came to arguing about stupid ridiculous things that made no sense, and he wasn't even pleasant to look at.

The preceding evening had been a long and painful one. He was utterly convinced I had gotten this girl pregnant and I had no real way of convincing him that it was absolutely impossible.

Yes, knew each other. Yes, we had a relationship. Yes, we had slept together.

My father had completely cornered me into retaining certain information that I would be punished for revealing so that any story I gave him would appear entirely unbelievable.

This girl, Calliah, had gotten pregnant by someone. Unless this was a fabrication of hers for some reason. But she and I had only had a brief relationship in which we played, and had no actual sex. I got her off, she got me off, and she spent the night sleeping it off. Actual penetrative sex never occurred.

Of course details like this weren't the kind my father was prepared to hear, especially when being involved in something like BDSM expressed to him that I was sexually devious, and therefor sleeping with everyone, thing and atom.

Instead I was forced to lie and say that I hadn't spent the night with her and that was something he could verifiably ask Andrew, to which he had to admit that she had. Embarrassing and almost confirming his worries.

He had been red with rage, and he still looked suspiciously pink in the morning.

He smacked me so hard the night before that the red mark I had initially seen turned blue the next day so that he sent for a makeup artist to work on it. Overkill, but my father had the money to do what he liked and it was better for me not to mention the liquid foundation one of my subs had left behind. Likely would have been too dark either way.

So I was called in as late and forced to wait for an hour for her to arrive, waited around for her to cover the bruise up as she awkwardly asked me questions attempting to pinpoint exactly what was happening without getting her head chewed off by her employer.

I heard him talking on the phone to Calliah's parents before I left. He was adamant I was not the kids father despite not believing it for a second.

I worried about this. Calliah was also from a rich family that treated her with some distaste. I didn't know what her plans were with this baby, if she knew who had been the father in the first place. Her parents must have been very angry.

I rubbed my temples, leaning back in the car seat, trying to avoid the guilty looks Andrew was occasionally glancing at me with.

The radio was loud enough to make any conversation between us pointless and my mind wandered as the news was broadcast through it.

"There was chaos on the A21 today when a rogue mattress was sent hurtling across the motorway through some of those building winds, hitting one car and taking off the right mirror of another one. No one, thankfully, was hurt, but it could have been a serious situation, with some cars along that route driving up to seventy miles an hour and others even going past that..."

The thing I was most curious about, however, was the text message from my brother.

My brother had no business at all knowing  that my father was about to string me from the landing chandelier for this stupid pregnancy rubbish. His text message that came from an unknown number, one that knew my number somehow, and he had private details about what my father was currently pissed about?