ARROGANT MASTER by Winter Renshaw

about?”
    The door jingles and we both crank our necks to see my
father walk in and head up to the counter. Mom is still out in the car. This
whole thing is bizarre. He doesn’t make eye contact with us, which I’m sure is
his warped way of doing us a favor by pretending we’re strangers.
    He’s here, but he’s not.
    We wait for my father to walk out with two banana splits
before another word is spoken.
    “What were you saying a minute ago?” I refuse to drop it. I
want to know how the hell he thinks he’s protecting my virtue.
    “Because you’re damaged goods.” He says it like he’s stating
a scientific fact.
    I shove my spoon in the center of the melting mound of ice
cream in front of me and shove the cup away. “Excuse me?”
    “Come on, Bellamy.” He cocks his head, flashing a perfect
smile. “You know what I mean. You’ve…you’ve been touched. You’ve done stuff.”
    “Yeah. With you.”
    “Yeah, but if another guy knew? I don’t think he’d be cool
with it. A guy might get the impression that you’re a loose girl.”
    What is this, the 1950s ?!
    “What about you?” I cross my arms over my chest. “What does
that make you?”
    His lips pucker as he stifles a laugh. “It’s different for
guys. You know that.”
    I rise, unwilling to tolerate another minute across from
that imbecile.
    “Where do you think you’re going?” he asks.
    “Throwing this away.” I grab the melting cup of chocolate
grossness and trudge to the nearest trash receptacle, chucking it just hard
enough not to cause a scene.
    Cortland stands up and walks over to me placing his hands on
my shoulders and turning us so our faces are away from the watchful eyes of my
parents. “Keep sweet, Bellamy. Don’t make a scene. Remember, they’re watching
us.”
    He turns behind us before glancing around the small ice
cream shop.
    “Follow me.”
    “Where are you going?” I ask.
    He says nothing, but I follow him to a small alcove behind
the front of the shop because what other choice do I have?
    “I’ve been dying to get you alone for weeks,” he says, the
second we’re hidden from view. His lips press into the flesh below my jaws, and
his greedy hands slip over my breasts taking squeezing handfuls.
    “What are you doing?” I push him off me with what little
resistance I have against his sturdy build.
    He pushes his whole body into me again, ignoring my obvious
discontentment with his behavior.   “Don’t
you miss this, Bellamy? You, me, backseat of my car. I
miss your taste, your scent, those lips wrapped around the best part of me.”
    Cortland’s hips jut into mine, and I feel his hardness
through the fabric that separates us.
    “You’re so addictive,” he moans.
    I inhale a mixture of frigid air, dairy smells, and
Cortland’s cheap aftershave, but right now I’d give anything for a whiff of
Dane’s cologne. He smells like fine soap and expensive leather and top shelf
whiskey and the kinds of things I’d never dreamed about until I met him.
    “Soon,” he breathes into my ear. “Soon, we’ll be married,
and I can have all of you, all the time.”
    That’s what you think.
    “We’ve only been courting for seven weeks officially,” I
say. “I’m not on some fast track to getting married. I still need to decide if
you’re right for me.”
    “The decision’s been made, sweetheart.” His hand runs from
my right breast down the s-curve of my hip before settling on my backside where
he gives it a commanding squeeze.
    I fight the wave of tears that threaten to consume me.
Powerlessness has never been a good look for me.
    “We should get going. My dad’s going to wonder where we
went.”
    Cortland nods toward a drinking fountain. “Just tell him we
went to get some water, and you had to use the restroom and I waited for you
out here like a gentleman would do.”
    “You’ve got an answer for everything.”
    He thinks I’m teasing, and he smiles like he considers
himself some brilliant