Give and Take (poly) (bxb)

Nine

It's dark when I get home. The blues, reds, and yellows have parted from the sky. They've left behind a deep and dark cloudless black.

"Your father is here," Von speaks as we pull up just shy of my next-door neighbor's house. White paint and slightly overgrown grass. A quiet old lady lives there. No pets, no grandkids, she's the only spark of life left.

I pause briefly, widen my eyes and blink to readjust them. Surprised when I see my father's police car in our driveway. He's usually never home when I get back from "work." Work either consists of the eight hours I spend at Rosco's Pizzeria two days a week or my time with the gang I have the other four days when I tell my father I'm at work, but I'm really not. Sundays, my father is off as well, so they are reserved for him, and homework which I've been slacking on lately.

Tonight is Saturday, and I am coming back from being with the gang. After my panic attack, all four men insisted on driving me back home together. So here I was in the back seat of the familiar van. L, back from running the auto shop alone, was driving. Von had the passenger seat next to his adoptive brother, and the rest of us occupied the back.

From the moment we arrived in the back seat, the two men were latched onto me. I have to tell Seven twice to stop trying to leave me hickies. I definitely do not need to remind my father I have a boyfriend, if we can even call it that. Seven rakes his teeth up my neck before mumbling a "fine" into my ear. Romero turns me around so that I am facing him while still being pressed firmly against Seven's chest. For the majority of the trip, his lips don't leave mine.

I wouldn't be surprised if Seven told him about all of the confessions I made to him in the quiet bathroom. After I finished showering from the mess he had made of me, Romero quickly found me and hugged me tight enough to lift my feet from the ground. With Spanish words, he told me how much he cared, how he'd worship the ground I walk on, then worship my body in order to prove it to me.

"She can't go in like that," L speaks. First, I think he's referring to how fucked I look so soon from the last time. My lips are wet and red, and my eyes are half-lidded. Similar to the Latino man in front of me. Then I look down at the oversized white T-shirt I'm wearing, not knowing who's it is but knowing my father will catch a case.

Von throws my bookbag back towards my way, and Romero catches it before it can hit me in the face. He starts removing the shirt off of me himself, always in a rush to get me naked.

"I can do it myself." I insist after remembering I'm not wearing anything underneath. "As a matter of fact, close your eyes all of you." I catch Von rolling his eyes at me through the rearview mirror, but he doesn't close them. Romero has the decency to turn around, and L was never looking at me anyway. Seven puts his hands over his eyes, a cute juxtaposition to how he was just licking the shell of my ear.

I quickly pull my work uniform out of my bag and check again to make sure I don't have any prying eyes. The sea stares back at me, challenging me to go further, to go in deeper. I touch the hem of my shirt first, getting my feet wet and feeling the warm water move up from the tips of my toes to my ankles. The waves reach higher and threaten to pull me all the way in. I raise my shirt with the tides but keep my hand over my breasts.

Von is still staring at me, and his eyes are on mine when I feel the water reach my neck.

"You're blushing here too," Seven says from behind me. I look back to see him staring at either my collarbones or my cleavage, his black hair shading his face. His dark eyes even darker.

His words make Romero turn around and stare at my naked body as well. As if my blushing was a sign that I wanted to be even more embarrassed. I tighten my hold over myself and put my head down, hoping my hair can cover my body from them.

"She said, not to look," Von says, voice deep and dark from the front seat.

The two men oblige, and though I can tell Von is still staring at me, though I can feel the water submerging my mouth and nose, I finish changing into my uniform.

"You can look now."

Seven and Romero embrace me before I leave, and I don't take my eyes off of Von until I can't see him anymore. Until the black van rolls away, his window still down as he stares back at me with unspoken words. Unspoken actions, the tension between us is always so painfully thick, and I know I am the only one to blame. The stupid rule I made, knowing damn well I want nothing more than to be touched by him.

"Hi, dad!" I run up to my father with enthusiasm before engulfing him in a hug.

He's been home for a while, his lack of a police uniform indicating that for me. He wears a tank top and dress pants. He has a tattoo on his shoulder, an overly shaded lion, and an obvious cover-up for something regrettable he had gotten in his teenage year.

"Hey, baby girl." He kisses my forehead with his words giving me a quick once over to make sure I look okay, untouched, unhurt.

"What did you cook today?" I ask before he can ask any questions himself. If I can't tell by the noodles and red meaty sauce I definitely can by the savory smell I love so much.

"Spaghetti, your favorite. Go get changed out of your uniform so we can eat." He smiles at me before I can turn away from him. "And sweetie?"

"Yes, Daddy?" I don't turn back around until he doesn't respond. The look on his face is quizzical as he gives me another once over. He's there, large presence taking up so much space in our also large kitchen. It's a wonder how I came out so short. He stops stirring the metal for a second, resting the wooden spoon on our white marble countertops.

"You smell weird did you have a lot of deliveries or something?"

I still have their scent on me. It can't get any more suspicious than that. It can't get any more obvious. "You know it's always busy on Saturdays."

"I thought that was why you didn't work Saturdays in the first place." He caught me. Now I'm taking too long to reply and everything is so obvious, and my father is going to hate me when he inevitably finds out the truth.

"I like my job more now."

"You like your job, or your coworkers?"

"Both?" Why am I asking him? God, I'm so stupid.

"You're boyfriend must work there."

My throat is too dry to respond at this point. It would crack on any words I'd try to make. A dead giveaway I'm not willing to take.

"Maybe I should stop by one day to meet him," My father adds.

"No!" Tell him. He looks so surprised by my outburst. I can only imagine how he'll look once I tell him the truth. Tell him. My father has done nothing but try to protect me all my life, and I repay him with lies. Tell him. "That would be so awkward, dad. Why would you do that to me?" I pout, an expression I know he can't resist.

"How else am I supposed to meet him?"

"At a dinner or by chance, like most parents would!" The conversation- the lies- become easier. Dripping off of my tongue uncontrollably.

"Does 'by chance' mean finding him sneaking out of your room? Because if that's the case, I guess I already met him."

I roll my eyes, knowing for a fact my father didn't catch any of the four men that night or else he definitely would've shot them.

"What's his name?"

Shit. 

"Um..." I trail off while my brain wrecks itself.

Seven is definitely not his real name. L is definitely not a real name. Romero? No, my father will be expecting something a lot different from the Asian boy I plan on presenting him with. 

"Damian." I rush out.  As much as I know I would never in a million years introduce my father to Von, that's the only legitimate name I can think of at the moment.

"Invite him over for dinner." My father beams at me, genuine smile creasing his brown skin.

Maybe I can tell him the truth and it won't kill him. Maybe he can let go of his little girl for a little bit. Release my hand and let me crash down into the sea. Maybe it won't hurt him. Maybe it won't hurt me.