Page 3 of Band of Brothers - MFMM Menage Romance (Sweet Treats 8)
I don’t bother to tell him that Danger, Coke, and I were going to study for a mid-term then because it wouldn’t matter. Owen would get all prickly from even hearing the names “Danger” and “Coke.”
“Sure,” I say with a wan smile. “It’s no problem. I’ll keep my schedule open.”
Owen nods and throws me another impossible-t0-decipher look. What is up with my dad? Why is he behaving so weirdly? But he merely strides to the hall closet and opens it to grab his gym bag, which is already packed on the floor. My dad works out a lot, and the discipline looks good on him because he’s tall, strong, and very handsome. But still, that doesn’t explain his uneasiness.
“Take care, okay June? I’ll be back later tonight.”
“Sure no problem,” I say with a cheerful wave. “Bye Dad! Don’t kill yourself trying to lift a truck,” I joke.
The screen door bangs shut, and I can hear Owen’s heavy footsteps going down the front path. Then, his car revs and pulls out onto the street before disappearing in the distance.
Silence strikes the kitchen as I stare at the faded brown wood of our table. What was that about? Why would my dad want me to talk with some older girls? And what was making him so uneasy in particular?
I understand the part about “female guidance.” My mom left when I was a kid, but when I said I almost didn’t notice, it was true. My mom was always a wishy-washy person, and although she loved me, she was also the type who often forgot to pick me up from school.
As a result, Owen had to step in. He was my mom, dad, grandpa, grandma, brother, and sister all rolled into one. Owen took care of everything, from packing my lunch each day to shuttling me to ballet lessons. That is, when he wasn’t at work. When he was on the road for his job as a long-haul trucker, our neighbor Midge helped out, and it was fine. I developed a wonderful relationship with Midge, and treat her like family.
But now, Owen’s got something on his mind, and I can’t help but wonder what it is. It’s not menstruation because we got through that years ago. It can’t be boys because I’ve never really dated anyone. He says it’s the clothes I wear and the way I present myself, but my look is “cute goth” and honestly, there’s nothing wrong with it. I wear a lot of black, but the look is sexy and appealing in its own way. Maybe I could stop with the chunky highlights, but it’s not like I’m pancaking my face with white foundation and using scary black lipliner. Instead, I merely use a touch of cosmetics, in addition to some vampy red lipstick on my pout. It’s sexy, and not trashy.
I sigh, slumping a bit in my chair. This meeting with the so-called “older girls” is not going to go well. I can already picture it in my head. It’s going to be women who look like they’re straight out of Love Island giving me lectures on how to put together an “appropriate” outfit. They’ll probably want me to date jocks raging on steroids or some baby investment banker with too much gel in his hair. Whatever it is, it’s going to be painful, and I slump even further in my chair. Ugh. This isn’t what I want at all.
Because what I do want is crazy. A slow smile creeps over my lips as my secret fantasy comes to mind. It’s not that I don’t appreciate handsome men; I do. It’s just that I want more than one. I’ve seen the clips on-line where a woman is adored by two or more men, and it always looks so amazing. Her expression is often blissful with a moan coming from her throat while the guys use her body like a toy. What would that be like? What would it be like to be shared among a group of men, all of whom adore you?
I sit up and stick my tongue out at nobody. Unfortunately, I’ll never find out because right now, we live in little Sunnydale where nothing exciting ever happens. It’s just a boring, suburban life … or is it?
2
June
“What?” asks Danger. “Why do you have to talk to someone? We can give you good advice.”
“Yeah,” adds Coke. “Seriously. Your dad is off the reservation. You were on honor roll last semester. What is up with Owen?”
I shake my head.
“I have no idea. He’s hell-bent on making me talk to some older girls for ‘life advice,’ and it’s going to be painful. I’m literally envisioning someone with frosted hair and a fake tan trying to give me pointers on my wardrobe.”
Coke shudders.
“It could be worse. He could have made you sign up for dance lessons or cooking lessons or something.”