Don't Test Me

I stepped forward and my palms hit David right across the right side of his face, landing straight against his cheek with a crack that shook through the room. The sound vibrated as if it were an echoing space. We looked straight at each other and I'm not sure who was more startled, him or me – and I withdrew my hand like I just touched an electric outlet, backing away from him in horror.

I've never done something like that in my entire life. I can't believe I lost control. "I –" I stumbled, trying to find my words. "I – you're being...a total shithead about this!"

David brings his hand to his cheek, rubs it to soothe it, and raises his eyebrows. "Yeah, sweetheart," he says jokingly. "It's me who's being a total shithead."

"Did you know about our parents getting married, before?" I ask again, my voice shaking.

"What, before you texted me and begged me to give you some of this?" He held out his hand and motioned it to his dick from his pants. 

"I didn't exactly have to beg," I say, my teeth clenched and fist folded getting ready for another burst of emotion. I cooled myself down before speaking up again. "I don't think anyone has to twist your arm to get the dick you display like it's candy."

"You sure didn't have a problem sucking on it like it was made of fucking sugar," he says.

I can feel something but it is not anger, it's the heat rising to my cheeks. "That is not how I sucked your –"

"What, Yale?" he cuts me off with this nickname. "Are you going to tell me you don't remember how you wrapped those sweet little pouty pink lips of yours around my cock like it was the best thing you ever tasted?"

"I'm not even going to dignify that with a response." But my face is flushed, and I think I might be short of breath at the thought of David's cock against my lips. No, I can't think about it. "It was a temporary insanity," I said almost too fast. "What happened between us never happened."

 "Don't worry, Princess," he says. "Our dirty little secret is safe with me. It's already forgotten. You weren't that memorable anyway. Plus this whole marriage thing isn't going to stop me"

I was furious. Not that memorable? 

Yes I didn't want him parading about it like I was some goddess but it 'was not that memorable'

I'm about to give David a real piece of my mind when the door swings open behind him. He jumps out of the way, and for a moment Stella stands in the doorway with my father beside her, his brow wrinkled but just barely. 

My father is a politician, and like almost all politicians, corrupt or not, he had mastered giving non-expression looks. I couldn't tell if it was in military school he learned that or if his years of being a politician made him master that look. If you didn't know him, you wouldn't know that his eyes squinting at David is a sign of irritation. But that was not what bumbled in my thoughts. My heart stops and I wonder if he knows, if he heard us from the door, or if it's written on me like some kind of badge of dishonor – I fucked David Sterling.

"Ah," my father says. "I knew you guys would want to discuss things but I was wondering where you both had disappeared to."

"The news is a lot to take in, I'm sure," Stella says, her voice gentle. She places her hand on my father's arm. "I'm sure the two of you probably want some time without us parents around."

David laughs, the sound bitter. "Yeah, right," he says. "I've had plenty of time with Little Miss Perfect here." He walks in between my father and Stella, and they let him pass through the doorway, but Stella's eyes are wide.

"David Archer Sterling!" she says. "Don't be rude."

"Rude? What mother? Wait, are you calling my full name because you think walking on you two is rude?" He's walking away, his back toward us. "That's fucking funny, especially from the same persons who just sprung a whole marriage on their daughter, don't you think?"

Did he just say that they sprung a whole marriage on me? Like he knew about it before now?

I was confused. Did he lie to me?

My father's voice cut through my thoughts. "I won't tolerate – "

Oh, that's funny. I don't think my father fully appreciates what he's gotten himself into taking up David as his. He thinks any issue can be cured with a good dose of discipline and some military-style physical training. Typical military men. If this conversation were happening with probably a seven-years-younger David, my father would have him outside running laps and doing push-ups with some military training course type of shit until he couldn't hold himself up anymore. But unluckily for him, David Sterling had been an adult for a while. 

David stops. "Tolerate? Let's get something straight here Mr Governor. If you want to parade your kid around in front of the cameras like she's some kind of fucking trophy child, that's between you and her. But me? You don't get to walk into my life and expect me to call you 'Dad' like we're all some big happy family. You hear me."

No one talks to my father like that. Not even his politician friends. Definitely not me. I hold my breath, waiting for my father's reaction. His temper rarely flares, but when it does, it's a bomb. Despite my complete and utter distaste for who David is, I can't help but feel a twinge of smug satisfaction, hearing him talk to my father like that. It almost feels like David is taking up for me, even though I know he's not.

"David Archer Sterling," Stella says, her voice shaky but louder this time around. "We need to talk about this. I know you're upset, but – "

David interrupts. "Oh, and Governor?" he looks back at Stella before glancing at my father. "A tip – Don't let this whole marriage thing fool you. It is not some type of true love shit. Dearest mother here has been married severally, so you might want to think about that before making your whole speech about engagement viral." He turns his back after his statement and just walks out of the office, down the hallway until I hear the front door slam.

I feel bad for Stella but is that true? 

Stella raises her eyes to look at me, and then at my father. She blinks slowly, once, twice, three times, and I immediately feel bad for her. She looks like she's trying desperately not to cry, and it's suddenly awkward, as I rack my brain to come up with something to say to make the situation less uncomfortable. As if that were fucking possible.

I clear my throat. "I'm sure – I mean – he's upset. I'm sure it'll be fine." My voice sounds strained. Why am I trying to console two people who just dropped a bombshell like this on their kids, expecting them to fall in line? I hate to admit it, but David has a point. "Um. I'm going to just go upstairs." I squeeze past the two of them, heading up the stairs to my bedroom without waiting for a response.

Inside, I close the door behind me and sit on the bed, the bedspread a simple white color that accents the dark wood bedframe and desk. 

Everything in here is antique, matching the rest of the house, the photos on the walls carefully selected to display only the most shining moments of my life, all of the awards and things my father considers important. It's annoying actually but I have never said a thing to my father.

This isn't my dorm room at Fandesvic, which has brightly colored bedding and collages with pictures of me and my friends plastered on the walls, my art and sketches of places that mean the most to me. My car is still filled, outside in the driveway, the remnants of my high school life.

Rachel is touring across Europe this summer with her boyfriend Stephen. I could still recall my best friend's words. "Come with us," she begged. "It's your chance to be free before college starts in the fall. It's like a rite of passage. We'll get drunk and watch the sun come up in Rome."

I couldn't even consider the possibility of disappointing my father. I'm the always-dutiful daughter, the one who does what's expected of her. I know I live a charmed life – the Governor's father, private school education, headed to one of the best colleges in the country. I've only been to a club once but still, I can't help but feel a tiny bit sorry for myself, even if I know I'm having a pity party.

The walls already feel like they're closing in on me. I won't be at the DC home for long; I'll be back at the summer home in Newport, Rhode Island before the week is out, I'm sure. But that will be a prison all its own, working on the re-election governorship campaign and being displayed out for photo opportunities with my father and his new wife.

It's only a few minutes later that it occurs to me. 

Oh, shit. 

Does this mean David will be coming to Rhode Island with us?