Dirty Seduction

ROSIE

Julian’s fabric softener had a different smell to ours. lavender, I think. I kept catching the scent of it as I dashed around the kitchen. It distracted me. I wasn’t up to my usual form.

“Rosie!” Kieran said. “Get with it. The two stuffed crusts need taking out!” Stuffed crust.Please check at N/ôvel(D)rama.Org.

I was right back in Julian’s kitchen, staring into his bright green eyes. I was going out of my mind. All I could think about was him.

Saturdays were always busy. I was exhausted when I reached the end of the day shift and grabbed my bag from the staffroom. It was raining outside when I walked home, so I hit my bedroom as soon as I was through the door, ignoring Mum in the kitchen since she was busy laughing on the phone.

I stripped off my uniform and ditched it for something dry and cozy my favorites some PJ bottoms and a faded t-shirt with a cartoon kitten on. Mum was still chatting away when I went in to make myself a cup of tea. For once, I didn’t make her one. She ended her call with a catch you soon. Eight, right?

I knew from her giggle that she was talking to Scottie as she said goodbye.

“He’s coming over again, then?” I asked.

She looked almost sheepish, even though she was still grinning.

“Things are a lot better between us. He’s learned from his mistakes. And I’ve learned from mine, too.”

I could have shaken her in an attempt to make her see sense, but there would be no point. I could have screeched and screamed that he was still the loser he always was, and one stupid night of hanging out in the living room didn’t change a thing, but I’d tried that plenty of times before.

“Fine,” I said, and she almost jolted back, surprised.

“You’re ok with it?”

I scoffed. “As if. But what difference would it make?”

“He has changed this time.”

“Like every time. Sure.”

“You can ask him about it yourself later. He wants to see you. He wants to tell you himself.”

I was glaring when I looked at her. “I have nothing to say, other than the fact I hate him and wish he’d fuck off and never come back.”

“That’s a bit harsh.”

“A bit harsh? He nearly fucking killed you!”

She fiddled with some plates on the side, silent.

“I mean it, Mum. I don’t want to see him. He can fuck off!”

She sighed. “Jayden has been working through things with him, you know. He’s getting anger management therapy. He’s already been to the doctor’s about it.”

“Sure he has. Like always. He’s a liar.”

“He’s trying, Rosie. We all are!”

I could have thrown my cup of tea across the room.

“He’s not trying! He never does. He’s full of shit, and you know it. He knows it. Jayden knows it. We ALL know it, but one bunch of shitty flowers and some love talk makes it all ok!”

I took a breath and tried to calm myself down. She was getting upset, and I reminded myself that Scottie was a piece of shit. Not her. Mum was someone caught up in his lies and bullshit, desperate for someone to love her. She always had been, since her parents threw her out at seventeen after finding out she was pregnant. In her world, she was unlovable. In her universe, she was a failure who should take Scottie’s love at any cost. Sometimes I got so angry that I wished he’d get hit by a car when he was stumbling, drunk along the roadside. If only I was loaded enough to pay a hitman to finish him off, and then whisk Mum out of this place, to somewhere great and happy, with an unlimited amount of therapy to help her work on her self-esteem. She deserved so much more than this shithole.

Mum changed the subject, looking at me as I sipped at my tea.

“Where did you go last night? Trisha said you didn’t show up at hers.”

“Oh. So she was expecting me, then? She’d have probably seen me if she’d have opened her front door and shot so much as a glance outside. I spent hours sitting out there, in the corridor, waiting for you to let me back in.”

She looked like I’d stabbed her.

“You could have gone to Trisha’s, or Jayden’s! You could have gone out with your work friends, too. They usually head out on a Friday.”

“I didn’t want to. I wanted to come home.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I knew you wouldn’t want to be here, though. Not around Scottie. I know you struggle at first.”

“Thanks for the consideration.”

I needed to stop with the sarcasm. I closed my eyes, trying to center myself. I cursed under my breath. I hated this shit.

“Where did you go?” she asked again. “You weren’t there at two. I checked.”

“Why do you care now? You didn’t care last night!” I could feel myself getting upset, and I didn’t want that. I wanted to keep my hurt away from Mum. “Forget about it. I’m going to listen to my book for a bit. Catch you later.”

She didn’t bother fighting me.

“Scottie’s coming over at eight.”

“Yeah, I heard. Can’t wait.”

I was so angry that I thumped a pillow when I flopped onto my bed. My head was spinning, and I hated this shithole, and I wanted to punch Scottie in the face for even daring to come back. I wished I was strong enough to do it, but he’d laugh in my face. I couldn’t even pull him off her during a chokehold, so I wasn’t going to be able to kick him to the floor.

I tried listening to my book to kill the chatter in my head, but even though I sought out an especially filthy age-gap professor novel, it didn’t combat the rage I felt about Scottie being back in Mum’s life. The minutes turned into hours, slowly, and eight p. m. must have arrived. I felt the thump of the front door closing. The asshole was here.

I fought as hard as I could but by 10 p. m. I was desperate for the toilet, so had no choice but to show my face out there. Scottie jumped on the opportunity as soon as he saw me, already chilling out on the sofa like he owned the place.

“Hey, Rosie, you alright?”

“No!” I said and walked straight on into the bathroom.

I took my time, determined to return to my bedroom and stay there right through until morning unless Mum was screaming her head off. I took a shower, with my coconut shampoo and my foam body wash, then got back into my PJs, teeth brushed, and ready for bed. I only needed a simple glass of water from the kitchen. I’d munched on enough garlic bread and salad through my shift that I didn’t need any dinner.

“Scottie wants to talk to you,” Mum said as I marched past them.

My glare must have been cold enough to burn.

“I don’t give a fuck what Scottie wants,” I told her, then looked at him with a hateful sneer. “I promise you, you piece of shit, if you lay your hands on my mum again, I’m going to call the police. I don’t care how much she denies it, and I don’t care how much you try to squirm out of it with garage flowers and promises. Next time, I’m going to make sure I get pictures of you on my phone, and I’m going to push and push until you get what you deserve.”

His face turned sour. “I’ve changed, Rosie.”

“BULLSHIT!” I yelled. “You’re a vile piece of shit, who likes hurting my mum! That doesn’t ever change!”

Even now, in his, I’m so sorry phase, he didn’t show any kind of true remorse. He looked like he wanted to rip my heart out. Part of me wished he would, just so I could go after him for real, with bruises on me and not on my mother. There would be no chance of denial then. I’d have the evidence on myself.

I don’t know if there was something different in the way I held myself as I stood there this time around. If there was more fire in my eyes, or I was at the point where I genuinely had reached my limits, once and for all. I didn’t know what was truly behind it, but something had shifted inside me. Who knows? Maybe it was someone upstairs who gave a fuck about me for once, and who’d given a true fuck about my mum. Contrast can be a powerful thing.

Whatever it was, Scottie picked up on it. He straightened in his seat, but he met my stare with a darkness of his own. “I don’t like hurting your mum, Rosie.”

He was holding his words back in front of her. I knew what he wanted to say. He wanted to threaten me back and call me the names he called her, and likely crush my throat like he wanted to crush hers in one of his rages, but I didn’t give a shit. The blood was pumping in my veins.

“You’re pathetic,” I told him. “You know that? You’re pathetic. You only want to fight people smaller than you, which is virtually nobody, you wimpy little shithead.”

“Rosie!” Mum said like I was the one who’d broken the boundary.

I didn’t break my stare, wishing I could shoot daggers from my eyes.

“You’re pathetic,” I told him again. “And one day you’re going to pay for it. I can’t wait until you rot in hell!”

I didn’t hang around at that. I turned and walked away, slamming my bedroom door behind me and putting my water on the bedside table with shaking hands.

I hid under the bedcovers as the world spun around me, feeling more frantic this time. Closer to breaking. Again, maybe it was contrast. Seeing the care in someone’s eyes as they rescued me from the cold, hard floor outside…