When I get home I’m relieved to find mum’s not back. That the house is empty.
I head up to my room, taking a shower, needing to clean myself after making such a mess in Dominic’s office. I take the opportunity to wash my hair too. It’s normally so unruly that I leave it as long as possible but if I wash it now I won’t have to bother drying it which is a definite bonus on the frizz front.
When I’m clean, I pull on a pair of joggers and a hoody, and go sit back in the snug, where I left my laptop and spend what feels like hours constructing my essay. Adding in my sources, making sure I cite the references correctly and that above all I’ve drawn conclusions that fit my argument and don’t steer it in another direction.
It’s not a bad essay considering. It’s not my best if I’m honest but it could be a lot worse too.
It’s late when I decide to put some pizza on. I expected mum to come home and yet it’s still just me. Alone.
I scoff the food down, not caring if I make a mess. My mother would be making comments right now about my eating habits, about the lack of veggies, about the carbs, but it’s not like I’m fat and besides, I like pizza.
When I’m done I chuck the plate in the dishwasher and head back to my essay, burying myself in it for a few more hours.
I wonder where Dominic is too. Perhaps they’ve gone out together and though the thought makes me jealous I disregard it because they’ve not been like that, gone on a date by themselves in years. It’s like they live separate lives. If you didn’t know they were married you certainly wouldn’t guess it from the way they are most of the time.
Maybe that’s why I don’t feel as guilty as I should. Maybe that’s why I don’t care that Dominic is my stepdad.
Maybe.
I hear the door click and someone walking about but I don’t look up. I’m tucked away anyway so it’s not like I’m being deliberately antisocial and this essay isn’t going to proofread itself.
“Hey you.”
I look up at his voice. And I’m alarmed by how much my heart leaps.
“Hi.” I say back.
He looks tired. He looks a little worn out if I’m honest.
“What are you working on?” He asks.
“Just an essay.” I say.
“Yeah?” He murmurs sitting down. “Tell me about it.”
“About my essay?” I laugh.
“Yeah. I’m interested.”
“Okay.” I say. “It’s about Paradise Lost and whether Milton is intentional in making the protagonist likeable as a testament to the temptations of evil.”
He smiles like he understands but I can see from his face he has no idea what the hell I’m talking about.
“You do what ‘Paradise Lost’ is right?”
He shakes his head and I laugh.
“Seriously? It’s a twelve book epic poem written by a blind man. It’s a work of genius or heresy depending on how you interpret it.”
“Read me some.” He says.
“Read you some of Paradise lost?”
He nods.
“Why?”
“I want to hear it.”
I bite my lip. He’s messing with me. I know it. But what the hell.
“Alright.” I say, pulling out my notes.
“No, from heart.”
“What?”
“Tell me a bit that sticks with you. That you remember.”
“What is this some chat up line?”
He narrows his eyes. “Tell me Eden.”
“Fine.” I murmur. “The mind is its own place. It can make a heaven of hell or a hell of heaven.” I say hoping I got it right but it’s not like he’ll really know anyway.
“You really like books?” He says.
“I like reading.”
He nods. “So what do you want to do with this degree, what do you want to do after?”
“I don’t know.” I say. “I kind of…” I trail off. For some reason it feels more personally to be having this conversation with him, as if it means more, spilling my secrets, telling him the one thing I aspire to be when I’ve never admitted it to another human being before. Never truly admitted it to myself either.
“Kind of what?” He asks.
“Promise you won’t laugh.” I say.
“I won’t.”
“I want to be a writer. I want to create something. Something that outlives me.”
He’s staring at me like I’m something amazing. “You can be a writer if that’s what you want Eden.”
I scoff. Like it’s easy.
“Whatever you want to be, you can achieve it, if you work hard.” He says.
“What about you? I doubt you wanted to be what you are growing up.” I say.
He smiles. “I knew I’d run my own business. I can’t explain how, I just knew it.”
“Did you know it would be in construction, property development?”
“Yeah. It’s all I could do. I was good with my hands. I started off as a brickie. I worked from the ground up.”
“And now look at you.” I say.
He smiles. “Doing alright.”
“Yeah I’d say that.” I reply.
He leans over and sweeps my hair from where it’s hanging over my shoulder.
“And I’m still good with my hands.” He says.
“Is that another chat up line?” I laugh.
“Do you want it to be?”
“Where’s mum?” I ask. I hate to ask but if there’s any chance of her being around I’m not doing anything.
“She’s working.”
“At this hour?” I scoff.
He smirks. “Apparently some client is in and it was all hands to the deck with smoozing them.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah I’d say that. Still…” He pulls my face to look at him fully. “It does give us a little alone time.”
“Is that what you want?” I ask.
“Don’t you?”
I shrug. It’s hard to deny I don’t want him right now, hell my core is practically screaming for him and yet I don’t just want to be a thing he fucks, a thing he sees as entertainment when his wife isn’t around.
“What are you thinking Eden?” He says quietly.
I let out a low sigh. “I want you.” I say. “But I also don’t want to just be a bit of fun.”
He raises his eyebrows, opens his mouth to reply but I talk over him.
“I get this is complicated, I get that you can’t exactly take me out, wine and dine me like I’m a normal date but I also don’t want this just to be physical.”
“I don’t want just physical either.” He says. “Although it’s hard to deny I’m not attracted to your body, that I’m not desperate to rip your clothes off, I like you as a person. And I want to get to know you more.”
“I’ve lived with you for eight years.” I state. “Don’t you know me well enough?”
He chuckles. “As a daughter maybe but I don’t want to look at you and think that.”
“I am your stepdaughter.” I say.
“And I don’t really care Eden.” He states. “I want to charm you. To treat you right.”
I sigh. “What about mum?”
“What about her?” He asks.
I hesitate, I’m in dangerous territory now. Crossing Line. “Would you leave her?”
He narrows his eyes. “Eden…”
“I’m not asking you too. Not right now but if we have any chance of a future together then I need to know that you’ll do it one day.”
“You want a future with me?” He says.
“Don’t you?”
He blinks. “You’re twenty one Eden. I’m forty two. I doubt you’ll want to spend the prime years of your life with some old duffer.”
“You’re not an old duffer.”
“No?” He says smirking.
“No.” I reply. “And you don’t know what I want.”
He sighs. “Look neither of us knows what the future holds. I’m not saying I won’t leave your mum but I’m also not denying that you wouldn’t change your mind at some point about what we’re doing. About whether you want us to continue.”
“So what…?”
“How about we don’t make plans? How about we just see where this goes for the moment?”
I hate to admit it but my heart sinks a little as he says it. It feels like he’s trying to fob me off. That this is just a bit of fun to him, that I’m just a bit of fun.
“I’m not saying I don’t see a future Eden. I’m just saying things are complicated, really complicated and I don’t want to set us up to fail.”
I nod. “Okay.”
He pulls me to him, wrapping his arms around me as we lie back on the couch.
“I liked seeing you today. I liked you coming to the office.” He says.
“You mean cuming in your office.” I say.
He laughs. “Yeah I liked that too.”
“What did Timothy want?” I don’t know why I ask it, I shouldn’t care but that man sets me on edge.
He pulls a face but his body tenses. “Just some stuff with work.”
“What is it?” I ask.
His face goes serious. “Nothing you need to worry about.”
“You can trust me, you know that?”
He smiles. “Yeah. I know.”
“Then tell me. Maybe I can help.”
He leans in, his hot breath hits my face and I can smell the peppermint on it. God I’m dying to kiss him right now, to stick my tongue deep in his mouth and taste it. “You want to help?”
I nod. “I do.”
I can see the glint in his eyes. I can see where this is headed already and while a part of me wants to be serious the other part is saying that we’re here, alone, and right now we can make as much noise as we want.