Read Online December (The Oliver Brothers Book 1) by Q.M. Watson - Free Book Online
Authors: Q.M. Watson
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my hair. Shower time with Danny could get fun.
CHAPTER SIX
T HE P AST
Danny, age twenty-four
December, age fifteen
It’s my birthday. December fourth. Today I’m fifteen, which makes me one year older. It’s one year closer to eighteen. One year closer to being with Danny. Danny has made a real effort to be present in my life. He picks me up every day from school, and he’s there for all of my tennis matches. He even helps me with my homework.
And that is what we’re doing now.
Homework.
We’re in my dining room, seated at the table with sheets of college-ruled notebook paper spread out in front of me and my school textbooks stacked at my side. My mom is over at Papa Pete’s. He’s teaching her how to cook chili. My sisters are out doing who-knows-what with who-knows-who. Danny and I have the house to ourselves. I’ve grown close to him since September, like really close. Though he’s older, ten years older, I feel at ease with him and comfortable enough not to censor myself.
Everything has improved since he arrived. My grades are better, and I don’t feel so alone anymore. Danny has become my anchor. Without him, I was adrift in very deep waters.
“Rewrite that sentence,” he orders, erasing over half my essay.
“Why are you erasing so much of it?”
“Because your handwriting is messy,” he says in an obvious tone. “Write neat and orderly the first time around, or else you’re going to have to rewrite everything.”
“Oh my God.” I groan out in frustration. “It’s my birthday, for fuck’s sake. I want to do something other than my English homework.”
His rich mocha-colored eyes flash in a warning, but then he grins. That grin brightens his entire face. Strange warmth flutters low in my belly, and my heart picks up speed. “Watch your mouth, December,” he chides firmly. “It may be your birthday, but it’s also a Thursday and a school night.”
“Aw, come on. I know you’re into the whole age play thing . . . but ease up, Daddy. Can I at least take a break from the grueling homework?”
“Jesus,” he mutters, lifting his eyes toward the ceiling briefly.
I stand abruptly and slam my hands down on the table in too much excitement as a thought comes to me. “Can we ride the horses?”
“It’s snowing.”
“Pretty please.” I pout, batting my lashes and making the best puppy face in the history of puppy faces.
He stares at me for a moment, as if he can see my excitement shining through my irises.
My eyes lower, a hot flush creeping up my cheeks. I suddenly feel translucent and shy. Disappointment settles over me, bursting the bubble of hope in my chest when he says nothing.
I sit back down in my chair, picking up my pencil to finish writing the sentence as neatly as I can. My bottom lip quivers slightly, and I have to bite it hard to stop it. I hate being vulnerable to anyone, especially Danny.
Why do I want to cry?
“We can go, December,” he says after a brief eternity.
“You’re such a jerk,” I say between a relieved laugh and desperate cry, wiping at my eyes.
“Let’s go. Put your coat and gloves on.”
I shrug on my coat, then I push my hands into my black gloves. “Did I mention that I hate you today?”
“No,” he replies, zipping up his wool jacket. “You told me yesterday, though.”
“Well, I hate you. Very much.”
“I’m honored.” His tone is dry, but his eyes shimmer with amusement.
I take one of his hands as we walk to his truck. He usually shakes his hand free from mine. Danny has to remind me that holding hands isn’t a great look for us. He says people in this town will assume we’re sleeping together, and I hate that because Danny is too honorable. He asks my mother’s permission when it involves me. He asks her permission for every little act. Danny doesn’t even hug me more than two seconds before he gently pushes me away. He would never have sex with me, even if I begged.
But he
CHAPTER SIX
T HE P AST
Danny, age twenty-four
December, age fifteen
It’s my birthday. December fourth. Today I’m fifteen, which makes me one year older. It’s one year closer to eighteen. One year closer to being with Danny. Danny has made a real effort to be present in my life. He picks me up every day from school, and he’s there for all of my tennis matches. He even helps me with my homework.
And that is what we’re doing now.
Homework.
We’re in my dining room, seated at the table with sheets of college-ruled notebook paper spread out in front of me and my school textbooks stacked at my side. My mom is over at Papa Pete’s. He’s teaching her how to cook chili. My sisters are out doing who-knows-what with who-knows-who. Danny and I have the house to ourselves. I’ve grown close to him since September, like really close. Though he’s older, ten years older, I feel at ease with him and comfortable enough not to censor myself.
Everything has improved since he arrived. My grades are better, and I don’t feel so alone anymore. Danny has become my anchor. Without him, I was adrift in very deep waters.
“Rewrite that sentence,” he orders, erasing over half my essay.
“Why are you erasing so much of it?”
“Because your handwriting is messy,” he says in an obvious tone. “Write neat and orderly the first time around, or else you’re going to have to rewrite everything.”
“Oh my God.” I groan out in frustration. “It’s my birthday, for fuck’s sake. I want to do something other than my English homework.”
His rich mocha-colored eyes flash in a warning, but then he grins. That grin brightens his entire face. Strange warmth flutters low in my belly, and my heart picks up speed. “Watch your mouth, December,” he chides firmly. “It may be your birthday, but it’s also a Thursday and a school night.”
“Aw, come on. I know you’re into the whole age play thing . . . but ease up, Daddy. Can I at least take a break from the grueling homework?”
“Jesus,” he mutters, lifting his eyes toward the ceiling briefly.
I stand abruptly and slam my hands down on the table in too much excitement as a thought comes to me. “Can we ride the horses?”
“It’s snowing.”
“Pretty please.” I pout, batting my lashes and making the best puppy face in the history of puppy faces.
He stares at me for a moment, as if he can see my excitement shining through my irises.
My eyes lower, a hot flush creeping up my cheeks. I suddenly feel translucent and shy. Disappointment settles over me, bursting the bubble of hope in my chest when he says nothing.
I sit back down in my chair, picking up my pencil to finish writing the sentence as neatly as I can. My bottom lip quivers slightly, and I have to bite it hard to stop it. I hate being vulnerable to anyone, especially Danny.
Why do I want to cry?
“We can go, December,” he says after a brief eternity.
“You’re such a jerk,” I say between a relieved laugh and desperate cry, wiping at my eyes.
“Let’s go. Put your coat and gloves on.”
I shrug on my coat, then I push my hands into my black gloves. “Did I mention that I hate you today?”
“No,” he replies, zipping up his wool jacket. “You told me yesterday, though.”
“Well, I hate you. Very much.”
“I’m honored.” His tone is dry, but his eyes shimmer with amusement.
I take one of his hands as we walk to his truck. He usually shakes his hand free from mine. Danny has to remind me that holding hands isn’t a great look for us. He says people in this town will assume we’re sleeping together, and I hate that because Danny is too honorable. He asks my mother’s permission when it involves me. He asks her permission for every little act. Danny doesn’t even hug me more than two seconds before he gently pushes me away. He would never have sex with me, even if I begged.
But he
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