Daddies Taste Better

: Oh My Fucking God

Then, through the warped blur of water, a strong arms wrapped around my middle, and dragged me upward. My head broke the surface with a violent gasp that tore through my chest.

I coughed, choking up water as he hauled me toward the edge.

“Whoa! Damn… she really went under!”

“I didn’t think she’d panic that hard—”

“Is she okay?”

Their voices came in fragments, floating above me as he propped me up on the pool ledge. My throat burned and my hands were shaking so hard I couldn’t even grip the tile at first.

And then…

Laughter.

Actual fucking laughter.

I turned, water streaming down my face, vision blurring with tears and chlorine.

He was laughing.

They all were.

“Oh my God,” one of the girls giggled, covering her mouth like she was trying to hide it but failing miserably. “You really freaked out.”

“She looked like someone threw a cat in the pool,” one of his guy friends added, sending another wave of laughter through the group.

Ha. What a bunch of lunatic’s.

They were insane.

They had to be.

I stared at him—my boyfriend—waiting for him to look horrified, apologetic, SOMETHING. But he was still grinning with them like a fool, like the whole thing was nothing more than a hilarious accident.

“Are you fucking crazy?” I yelled, my voice breaking from inhaling water. “What is wrong with you?! I told you—I told you not to do that!”

The smile slid off his face, replaced by surprise… then irritation.

“Oh, come on,” he said, water dripping off his chin. “It was supposed to be fun. You’re overreacting.”

“Overreacting?” I choked out, clutching my chest as another cough racked through me. “I almost drowned!”

“You weren’t going to drown,” he scoffed. “I was right next to you. Calm down.”

“Yeah, Thea,” one of the girls chimed in, flipping her wet hair over her shoulder. “It was just a joke.”

“Take it easy,” another guy added, raising his drink. “He didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Seriously,” the girl from earlier said, eyebrows raised in disbelief, “you’re ruining the mood.”

Ruining the mood.

Ruing the goddamn mood??!

My mouth hung open as I stared at them.

At him.

At all the faces staring back at me like I was the problem. Like my fear was an inconvenience. Like my panic attack was bad fucking manners.

“I told you I was scared,” I whispered, voice trembling from something that wasn’t the cold anymore. “I begged you to stop.”

He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “You always make everything such a big deal.”

Was he actually listening to himself right now?

I shook my head and stood up.

I won’t stand another second of their dismissive eyes, their judgment, and disgusting laughter.

With shaky legs, soaked clothes clinging to my body, and hair dripping down my back, I started to walk away.

“Thea… wait,” he called out behind me.

But I didn’t.

I didn’t look back and I sure as hell didn’t slow down.

Someone else called after me too—maybe one of the girls, maybe one of the guys.

“THEA!”

But their voices only made my throat tighten even harder.

I headed toward the house, my wet sandals slapping loudly against the pavement, water trailing behind me like a path of humiliation leading straight through the backyard doors.

The coolness of the house hit my skin instantly, sending chills through me. I kept walking, past the kitchen, past the living room, heading straight for the hallway that led to the bedrooms.

I just needed a moment to fucking breath.

A place to drown quietly in my own embarrassment without an audience.

But as soon as I stepped into the hallway, my soaked clothes dripped water on the tile…

And my foot slid.

It happened so fast I didn’t even have time to brace myself. My leg shot forward and the floor rushed up to meet me. The impact knocked the wind out of me, pain shooting through my elbow and hip as I smacked against the cold ceramic tile.

I lay there.

Stilled, as everything came rushing in.

The first sob that came tore out of me so violently it surprised even me.

Then another.

And another.

Soon I was shaking, curled on the cold tile floor with water pooling under me, mixing with tears as everything scattered inside me.

I pressed my forehead against my arm and let myself cry because there was nothing left in me to hold it back. I cried for the fear I felt underwater. I cried for the way he laughed. I cried for how small I felt, how foolish, how invisible. I cried because the one person who was supposed to protect me had shoved me right into the thing I feared most.

And I cried because, deep down, I knew something in our relationship had shifted today.

Maybe forever.

I didn’t know how long I lay there on the floor, trembling, my hair clinging to my cheeks, wondering how pathetic I must look—and how nothing could possibly make me feel any more pathetic than I already did.

Until I heard the front door creak open.

My head shot up instinctively.

And I froze immediately.

Standing in the entryway, framed by the afternoon sunlight spilling in behind him, was Mr. Gage… Noah’s father. Still in his suit from work. One hand holding a sleek leather suitcase while the other was tucked into his pocket.

My heart dropped.

“Oh my fucking God,” I whispered to myself before I could stop it.