They can pack up the tent themselves.
I shake my head.
That’s the second time I’ve gotten yelled at for drawing attention I didn’t ask for. This possessive obsession with protecting my innocence is ridiculous. Just because they’re “experienced” doesn’t mean they’re any more mature or wise. I would even debate they’re less so. That’s been pretty clear since I arrived.
The truck shakes and rocks as he and Noah pack the tent, table, chairs, and other gear in the back, and I look out the window, seeing some guy ride off on Noah’s bike with a girl on the back. They look vaguely familiar—maybe a friend borrowing his motorcycle.
Laughter goes off outside the truck as the tailgate closes, and I look over, seeing a woman climbing in beside me.
A whiff of her perfume hits me, and she looks up, smiling at me as she closes the door.
“Hi.”
“Hey.”
More giggles sound off behind me, and as Jake and Noah hop into the front seat, I close my eyes, my anger so hot I clench my fists.
Perfect. Absolutely perfect. I don’t turn around to see how many are in the truck bed. I just shoot my uncle a glare in the rearview mirror.
He meets my eyes but then looks away as he starts the truck.
Dancing with someone makes me look like a slut, but they can serial screw every night and not see the irony there.
Jake starts the truck, and I have no idea if Kaleb is still at the bonfire or in the bed behind me, but I cross my arms over my chest, too angry to even care.
Music plays on the radio as we speed up the dark highway, climbing the mountain on our way home. A cheer goes off behind me in the night wind, and I hear Noah crack a beer from the passenger seat in front.
So I’m just supposed to listen to all them go at it all night?
“Take me over your knee…” I repeat, looking at Jake’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “I’ve never been spanked in my life.”
He looks up, meeting my gaze. “If you want to be, keep it up.”
The girl next to me shifts in her seat, and the tension in the cab suddenly rises a couple notches.
Asshole.
“You’ll hit me, because I would do things you don’t like?”
“It’s called correction,” he retorts, staring back at the road. “And I’ll do it, because I care about you.”
Noah glances over his shoulder at me and then looks over at his father, whispering, “What’s going on?”
Jake shakes his head once, blowing him off.
“You can’t stop me from being with someone or having sex if I want to,” I inform him. “It’s called a double standard, Jake. You guys get to be with women. Why can’t I enjoy someone’s company?”
“We can be with women, because no one has laid claim to us.”
“No one has laid claim to me.”
“You’re a young woman in my house,” he fires back. “We claim you until you’re old enough.”
“On my birthday?”
He cocks a dark eyebrow at me, but doesn’t reply as he focuses back on the road.
Will I be old enough when I’m eighteen in a matter of weeks? Will he back off then?