The shirt was huge on me. It was a dark grey cotton that smelled exactly like Vance, cool air and old tobacco. It reached all the way down to my mid-thigh, hiding my school skirt completely. I liked how the heavy fabric felt against my skin. It made me feel like I was wearing his protection.
I sat on the edge of his bed and waited. I didn't turn the lights on. I liked the dark. It made it easier to pretend the rest of the world didn't exist.
A few minutes later, the door opened. The light from the hallway spilled in, and Vance walked in carrying a plate of toasted ham and cheese. He set it down on the nightstand and looked at me. He frowned when he saw me sitting in the dark.
"Eat," he said. His voice was flat and deep. "You're too thin, Blythe. You look like a ghost."
I reached for a piece of the sandwich, but I didn't look at the food. I looked at him. "Thank you, Vance."
"Don't thank me," he said. He sat down in the wooden chair across from the bed, crossing his big arms over his chest. "You shouldn't have come here like that. Walking through the rain in the dark is stupid. Anything could have happened to you."
"I wanted to see you," I whispered. I took a small bite of the sandwich. I wasn't really hungry, but I ate because he told me to.
"I don't care," he said, and his tone was stern. "You're eighteen now, but you act like you're ten. You're irresponsible. You don't think about the consequences. If I wasn't here, where would you be? Crying in the mud?"
I felt a sharp hum of excitement in my chest. I loved when he scolded me. It made me feel like I belonged to him, like he was responsible for keeping me in line. I set the sandwich down and crawled across the bed toward him. I stopped right at the edge, so my knees were almost touching his.
"I'm sorry," I said. I looked up at him through my eyelashes, trying to look as innocent as possible. "I'm just so bad at taking care of myself. I like it when you to do it for me."
Vance let out a long breath. He looked at my face, then down at his shirt hanging off my shoulders. He reached out and gripped my chin with his hand. His skin was warm and his grip was firm.
"You're a brat," he muttered. "You do this on purpose. You get yourself into trouble just so I have to fix it."
"Is it working?" I asked. My heart was beating so fast I could feel it in my throat.
He didn't answer with words. He just leaned forward and pulled me toward him. When his mouth hit mine, it wasn't soft. It was heavy and sure. He tasted like the peppermint he chewed to hide the smoke.
I wrapped my arms around his thick neck, pulling myself as close to him as I could. I wanted to disappear into him. I wanted to be so small that he could just put me in his pocket and keep me there. He groaned low in his throat and his hands moved to my waist, squeezing hard enough that I knew I'd have marks tomorrow.
I didn't care about the marks. I liked them. They were like little stamps that said I was his.
"You're going to be the death of me, kid," he whispered against my lips.
"I hope so," I breathed back.
He kissed me again, deeper this time, and for a moment, the heavy silence of the room was the only thing that felt real. I wasn't the shy girl in the back of the class anymore. I was Vance's nuisance, and that was exactly what I wanted to be.
He let me climb into his lap, the chair groaning under both of our weights. The shirt rode up my thighs as I straddled him, his hands landing heavy on my hips. This was familiar territory. The kissing, the touching.
His hands slid up my sides, thumbs brushing the underside of my breasts through the thin fabric. Then he broke the kiss to trail open-mouthed kisses down my neck, his beard scraping against my skin. One hand moved to my hair, tangling in the strands as he pulled me back into a deep kiss.
"Vance! You back there? We need more kegs in the cooler!"
A muffled voice shouted from the bottom of the stairs, followed by a loud bang against the wall. The moment snapped. Vance stiffened, his hands tightening on my hips for a second before he pulled back. He looked toward the bedroom door, his jaw set in that stoic, annoyed line again.
He let out a rough sigh and rested his forehead against mine for just a second. "I have to go back down," he muttered, his voice even raspier than before. He nudged me off his lap and back onto the bed. "Stay here. Eat your food. I'll check on you when I close up."
He didn't wait for me to answer. He stood up, adjusted his shirt, and walked out, leaving me alone in the dark room with the smell of his peppermint and smoke still lingering on my skin.