Chapter 5

Chapter Five

September 1st

Dahlia

“ I ’m so excited for the first day of school,” Bee says excitedly.

I’m only excited to get out of the house. I feel like I’m two different people lately. The one who avoids my stepfather at all costs while hiding a huge secret, and the one who waits to see if he’ll find a way into my room again.

I’m not sleeping, jumping at shadows, and terrified. I’ve also been a bit lonely because Gareth kept Bee busy for most of the summer. Whenever she has extra time, she’d tiredly bring a movie into my room and fall asleep.

I would love to nap while she does, but her father has popped his head into my room several times to “check” on us, effectively scaring the shit out of me.

He sees too much, and figured out early on that she and I have feelings for each other.

“Me too,” I say with a small smile as I smooth down the skirt to my uniform. “Do we know if there’s any teachers we should watch out for?”

I’m grasping at straws to stay sane and act normal, but Bee still glances at me curiously and her fingers link through mine as we leave the house to meet the driver who is employed during the school year.

Jack picked me up a couple of times to spend time with me, but I refused to tell him what was wrong.

“Mrs. Landers is supposed to be really nice but is a hard grader,” Bee explains as we get into the car. “She’s the first year’s English teacher, and everyone complains about her apparently.”

“That’s what prep school is about,” I tease her. “Working hard isn’t an issue for me, it’s bullying and asshole teachers.”

“Oh,” she says wide eyed. “Professor Brooks just started at Tyler Prep School, but he’s the third year’s math teacher. I heard a rumor that he threw a kid out a second story window and that’s why he transferred schools.”

“I think that’s why it’s called a rumor,” I say with a giggle as the driver pulls away from the house. Everything feels safer in the sunlight somehow, since everything bad in my life tends to happen at night.

Bee squeezes my hand, sighing happily as she listens to me. “I think we have some classes together. I know I’ve been busy this summer, but I couldn’t say no to the hospital or Daddy,” she says.

No one really can. Not even me.

“I know, but I have missed you,” I admit, dropping my head on her shoulder.

Today I noticed that my breasts are getting bigger, so I taped them down with medical gauze under my crisp white shirt. I don’t want any extra attention. I know that I was a little jealous of Bee, but I take it back.

“Same, so much,” Bee mumbles, kissing the top of my head.

Soon we’re at the school after the car fought its way through Detroit traffic, and everyone is scurrying inside as they’re dropped off. It appears that most parents have hired cars handling school transportation, though I see a few parents wave from inside as they head off to work.

The school uniforms are blue plaid skirts with suspenders and white shirts for the girls, and a jacket that’s also in the same plaid color. The guys have navy blue dress pants, crisp white shirts, and then the jacket that matches mine.

Thankfully, we’ll be inside most of the day, because when the weather gets cooler, we’ll all freeze, even with the option to wear thicker navy or white socks, or knit tights. The prep school begins with what would be public school’s tenth grade.

“Hurry, Dolly,” Bee squeals, surprising me as she drags me through the heavy front doors. Her red curls shine and bounce as we rush through the halls. “We can’t be late for announcements. They’ll lock the doors on us.”

I thought we were fine on time, but I run in my school-approved Mary Jane’s behind her anyway. Breathing hard, we slip into the auditorium as the last students to arrive. Ignoring the glares, I hold Bee’s hand as she drags me to an open seat beside Chad.

“You’re cutting it a little close,” he grunts, amused, eyes trained on the front stage.

“Hello, students, welcome to Tyler Preparatory School,” a woman that I recognize from my student handbook as the dean begins. “I’m Dean Mary Sullivan, and you may remember me from my speech at Brighton last year.”

“That’s the elementary and middle private school we all went to,” Bee whispers. Nodding, I pay close attention, already feeling behind on the first day.

“We believe in good natured competition at Tyler Prep, so you’ll all compete for the best privileges. I know at times that doesn’t excite those who were born with a silver spoon in their mouths, but the things you’ll be competing for are important to your continued success here,” Dr. Sullivan explains.

I notice the shade she sends to the student body that pays for her to stay employed, and my lips twitch in amusement.

“Some of the things that you can use your points on will be library times to be able to complete papers where your only resources are here, and one on one time with teachers. Points are awarded based on things like helping fellow students, dress code, and your participation in classes.”

She continues on, and I listen as I process that. I was a wallflower at my last school, though my grades were very high. I guess I’ll have to work to stand out a bit more.

I got a very brief tour of the school a week ago, but the grid of Tyler Prep is easier to remember than the house I’m living in. As Dr. Sullivan excuses us, we stand, filing out. My next class is homeroom, which I’m in with Bee, Chad, and Natalie.

“After this, I won’t see you until lunch,” Bee groans and I smirk at it. I love how open she is about wanting to spend time together.

“You two are disgustingly adorable,” Chad says, shaking his head as he herds us into the room. No one bats an eye at his words around him, and Natalie just giggles.

The day of school pulls me in completely, filling my head with syllabuses, homework, and forcing myself to participate in my classes. By the end of the day, I feel like an introvert that’s overpeopled.

“Need quiet,” I whimper as I practically crawl into the backseat of the car with Bee.

“Poor baby,” she teases as we put our seatbelts on.

“I don’t think I’ve interacted with anyone for so long all summer,” I groan. “It’s a shock to the system.”

“People came up to me all day asking about the gorgeous girl with the dark curls,” Bee says, snuggling against me. “I wanted to tell them you were mine and to go away.”

“Where’s the lie, though,” I murmur, playing with her red hair. It’s so soft, sliding like silk through my fingers, but still springing back into curls. While my curl journey has come a long way, I still have bad hair days.

Bee’s lips curl in amusement as she shrugs. “I told them your name, and how amazing you are,” she says instead. “The point system means I can’t claim you completely. Getting along with everyone is kind of key.”

“Ugh, people are bad,” I complain. “Except you. I really like you.”

“Did you get homework yet?” she asks, waiting for me to nod. “Good, because I think I need to do homework with my favorite person.”

Bubbles of happiness fill me as I agree. I can at least find ways to enjoy my life during the day. I want to tell my mom about Gareth, but he’s threatened her several times. As absent as she’s been, I can’t risk it.

The car drops us off at the house, and we trudge inside with our backpacks.

“I need a snack, and maybe some coffee to be able to bounce back,” I confess as we head toward the kitchen.

“I think I saw some lemon pound cake,” Bee says, eyes sparkling. She's found out that one of my weaknesses is lemon pastries. I think that’s one of the things I love about her. I’ve always wondered if she tastes as good as she smells.

“Mmm, that sounds so good right now,” I murmur. Holland grins at us as we walk into the kitchen, preparing things for dinner.

“Hello, ladies,” he says as he works. “Need a snack until dinner?”

“Yes, please. I heard there may be lemon pound cake,” I say with a happy sigh.

Chuckling, he nods as he lifts a cover on the island.

“Go for it,” he says. “Dinner isn’t for a while yet. Good first day of school?”

I swear this may be the most adult conversation about my day that I get outside of my calls from Jack.

“It was long, and I’m going to make some coffee to go with my cake so I can do homework,” I tell him, heading to the single serve coffee machine.

“Dahlia doesn’t like people,” Bee hisses to Holland, making him snort.

“I get that,” he says with a nod. “I really do. Was anyone truly terrible?”

“Not at all,” I explain. “I usually work quietly, get my things done, and move on. I had to talk today and answer questions.”

“Blech,” Holland says, pretending to retch as he sets the oven to put a roast inside.

“Exactly,” I confirm as if we’re having a completely respectable conversation. Walking to the fridge, I grab my oatmilk to dress my coffee in my travel cup. Moaning happily, I also stir in the sugar before taking a sip.

“You sound like you’re having a religious experience,” Holland says wryly.

Bee’s eyes heat from across the room, making me almost choke. Holy shit.

“Coffee is a delicious experience, religious or otherwise,” I snark weakly as I cough.

Holland shakes his head as he places two pieces of pound cake on a plate and pushes it over to us.

“Let me get back to work,” he says. “Good luck getting that homework done. You’re going to be bouncing soon between the caffeine and the sugar.”

Holland grabs the oatmilk and puts it away for me, and Bee and I head upstairs. I think I heard that Gareth was working till late, and Mom was working second shift.

“Did my mom usually work the afternoon shift?” I ask as we walk upstairs. Bee doesn’t question why I’m asking, knowing that we don’t talk very much.

“It honestly changed pretty often,” she says. “Lucia picks up whatever shifts need to be worked, which is one of the reasons that the hospital begged to keep her. I don’t understand why she’s continuing to work so much, though.”

“She was on vacation for a month,” I remind her. “Your dad is right there with her with his work schedule.”

“Daddy’s always worked, despite having money,” she says with a nod. “His patients come first, and then there’s the fundraising he does too. I’ve stopped noticing how often he’s gone, since I keep myself busy.”

I’m not the only one who grew up alone, it seems. Bee is just better adjusted than I am.

“Whose room are we setting up in?” I ask as we walk down the hallway.

“Mine,” she says. “I’m going to help you paint your room this weekend. Knowing how much you hate pastels, I can’t bear to allow you to stare at it for another second.”

Bee is dramatic, but also right. It’s pretty awful.

“I think that’s very sweet and very needed,” I tell her with a grin.

Bounding onto her bed after I toss my shoes aside, I sip my coffee before pulling out my books and laptop.

“I’m going to start with my math first,” I muse, tearing off a piece of cake before popping it into my mouth.

“I have history to read for,” Bee sighs as she shuts the door to the room. She's the only person I can handle being in a closed space with, I think. I’m always fine in the car with Jack, too.

There aren’t many people I currently trust.

“Then get your cute butt up here,” I murmur without thinking, sipping more coffee. Putting the cup on the nightstand, I open my notebook to get to work.

“You think my butt’s cute?” Bee asks, kneeling beside me. She takes a bite of the lemon pound cake, humming in appreciation as the flavors hit her tongue.

Holland really outdid himself with it.

“I think you’re the most gorgeous girl I’ve ever met,” I say honestly, pulling her closer to me. If she needs validation, I’ll give it to her all day long.

Straddling my lap, she grins down at me, her hair a curtain of curls around us both.

“I may not have been able to claim you the way I wanted to at school, but I think I need to fix that,” she says softly, ducking her head down to kiss me.

It’s different from the short pecks she’s given me previously, and she licks my lips as she gives me an open mouthed kiss.

“Open for me, please,” Bee says sweetly. Sighing, I part my lips, letting her in. My fingers ghost down her back, squeezing her ass cheeks hard. Her little noises are incredible as she rocks over me, continuing to kiss me.

My skin feels warm in the best ways as I chase her lips, my hands moving under her shirt to explore more.

“Is this okay?” Bee whispers against my lips. The way she asks for consent and checks in makes my heart soar as I nod eagerly.

“Yes,” I rasp. “It’s more than okay. You taste so good.”

Like lemons, my favorite.

Pushing my jacket over my shoulders, she tosses it to the side once it slides off.

“I’ve been wanting to kiss you all day,” she confesses as she kisses me again. Bee searches for friction as she grinds against me, and I squeeze her hips as I try to help. I’ve never had an orgasm before, never explored myself since Gareth’s ruined that for me, but I can help her find her release.

“I’m yours to kiss,” I say softly. “Bee…”

Whimpering, Bee sounds frustrated and it’s adorable.

“Tell me how to help,” I breathe. “I don’t…”

“I’m right here, I just can’t manage to make myself come. I need to borrow your hand,” she says, grabbing me. “Please help.”

“I’ve never…” I manage before my hand is laying over her panty-clad pussy. Rocking the heel of my palm over her clit, I watch as Bee becomes more and more desperate. Since I’ve been alone a lot, I started reading sapphic novels on my Kindle. It’s been really… educational.

I use her noises as her hips move in little circles against my hand to guide me as I lunge up to kiss her, my stomach cramping in a way that’s not uncomfortable. A slight rush of liquid between my thighs makes me realize I’m wet, and I’m very into this.

Gasping, I decide she needs more, pulling back for permission as I start to tug her panties to the side.

Determined to give me more, she shoves her panties completely off before sinking back down.

“Make me come. I trust you,” she rasps. “Please, baby.”

“I got you,” I promise, ghosting my fingertips over her thigh until I’m back where I belong. Bee’s skin is so soft, and I bite my lip as I rub her clit. Swallowing hard, I’m overcome with emotion, I can’t believe I’m this lucky.

Bee’s fingers tangle in my hair as she rides my hand, and I swallow her noises down as she kisses me. I can feel her body trembling as she gets closer to a release, her hands fisting in my curls as she whimpers.

“Come on, baby,” I whisper. “Just let go for me.”

Her long lashes flutter closed as her mouth drops open in a silent scream as I continue to rub her clit in little circles. Holding her tightly, I let her ride out her orgasm, a rush of wetness covering my fingers and hand. Our breathing is both heavy as we pant, eyes wide as we gaze at each other.

“Did I pee on you?” Bee asks, eyes wide as I pull my hand away.

The only reason I know it’s not pee is because of my ‘educational’ reading. It’s an escape that’s helped keep me sane.

“I don’t think so,” I say with a wink, sucking on my fingers as she gasps in horror. “You taste really good. It’s called squirting.”

“I thought that was a myth,” Bee says, heat returning to her eyes as I clean off my fingers and her breasts bounce a bit from her gasping breaths. I swear it tastes like vanilla and lemons. I’ll never be able to get enough now.

“Not a myth,” I tell her. “I’m going to clean up. I’m pretty sure my panties are destroyed after watching you.”

“Oh? Ohhhh,” she says as I giggle. Shifting off my lap, she watches as I get up to wash my hands. I am going to need to change my panties before dinner, because I’m sure Bee and I will probably make out a bit more while we work on homework.

Turning on the faucet, I pump some hand soap into my palm, rubbing my hands together to wash them. Gazing at my reflection, I see flushed cheeks, sparkling eyes, and a little bit of the old me. Gareth is going to try to pull me apart to see how far he can push me, while I hold onto this.

The water washes away the soap when I shove them underneath it, and I imagine that it’s cleansing me of the darkness I refuse to let touch the rest of my life. He can’t have this.