Page 45 of Under His Control

My eyebrows draw together. “What picture?”

“The one of you in the black shirt and pink underwear.”

Oh. Right. That picture. The one that made him hold on to my phone so he could take a good, long look.

Warmth fills my face. “I never sent it to anyone.”

“You took it for someone.”

“Yeah, a guy I was interested in at the time.” Self-conscious, I quickly add, “It was the first and only time I ever agreed to do something like that, though.”

I remember shaving myself, putting on the sexiest pair of underwear I owned, and taking at least twenty different shots before I decided that one was the best.

After all that trouble, I changed my mind and didn’t bother sending it. I should’ve deleted it too then Jacob wouldn’t have seen it.

He’s seen a lot more than what’s in the picture.

“This guy isn’t in your life anymore?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“He was a bit immature. I prefer older—maturity in men.”

“Hm. Makes sense you would have daddy issues.”

I give him another side-long glance. “You of all people should feel weird saying that.”

“I’m comfortable with uncomfortable truths. Your bio dad was never in the picture, and I was only around for a few years. Of course you’d be into older guys to fill that hole in your life.”

The way you looked at me this morning, it seems you’d like to fill a different kind of—

I imagine myself with a straw broom vigorously sweeping away that filthy thought.

When it starts to snow, Jacob insists we turn back so we don’t get caught in the storm. We’re walking past the red brick house at the bottom of the hill again when there’s a loud crash and someone screams.

We stop and swivel our attention at the sound.

“What the hell?” I say.

People are yelling inside the house. It’s hard to hear the exact words though it’s obvious they’re angry. Abruptly, Jacob pivots and marches up the driveway. I follow after him.

“Hey! What are you doing?”

He glances back at me. “I want to find out what’s going on.”

“Do you know the people inside?”

“Ruth, the girl who brought the cupcakes. This is her house.”

As we approach the stairs, it’s easier to make out the voices and the words. It’s a man and a woman shouting at each other.

“—didn’t think I wouldn’t find out?”

“You never would’ve if you hadn’t been a fucking nosy bitch!”

“Fuck you, Wayne! If you hadn’t been up to no good, I never would’ve had to spy on you in the first place! I never would’ve seen—” The woman’s voice abruptly drops to a harsh whisper. “Someone’s on the porch!”