Veiled Innocence

Chapter Six

Present…

“Let’s talk about the photograph on your wall.”

I don’t know why Doc insists on saying let’s at the beginning of our sessions. He’s the only one talking.

“Psyche Revived by Cupid’s Kiss,” he tells me, as if I don’t already know this. “Do you know the story behind the sculpture?”

This has to be the worst kind of punishment. It’s monotonous. It’s mind-numbing. It’s a waste of my fucking time.

Tick, tick, tock.

“Let’s start with Psyche, shall we?”

Questions. Questions. Questions. How long will he go on with no reply? Knowing Doc, forever.

“So, Psyche was the youngest and most beautiful daughter of the king and queen. She was revered as a goddess by the locals in the village she came from. This would make any woman…” He pauses and taps his top lip with his index finger—one, two, three. “Feel special. Important.”

I know where he’s going with this. He’s so predictable lately.

“Did he make you feel special, Addison?”

And…there it is.

“Come on. You can talk to me.”

Tilting my head to the side, I speak for the first time since I have been admitted into the Pine Groves Psychiatric Facility.

“Yes. But I don’t want to.”

Tick, tick, tock.

Past…

Friday afternoon rolled around before I knew it. I thought it would take forever to get here, but it didn’t. I’d made myself behave in class today, even though I’d spent the entire time wanting to kiss my teacher.

In his khaki-colored dress pants and black polo shirt, I could see all of his muscles clearly defined. I also noticed for the first time that there was a hint of ink on his left bicep that poked out of his sleeve every time he raised his arm to the board. Mr. McKendrick had a tattoo.

How was I supposed to behave in the face of all that?

The idea that, at eighteen, we were all sweet, little virgins seemed ludicrous to me. Because the last time I checked, all I could think about was sex. Who I could have it with, when, and how often.

Oh, and the popular fallacy that only boys were horny at our age—well, the people who came up with that hadn’t had to sit through a class with Mr. McKendrick walking around at the front of it.

“Addison…Addison?”

My name cut through my thoughts as a hand touched my shoulder.

Turning, I found Miss Shrieve standing in front of me with an expectant look on her face. Ugh, why did she have to go and jack things up between us?

“You ready for this?”

I kept my face neutral as I nodded at my coach and then jumped up and down, shaking my hands out by my sides. I’d just finished screwing in the new spikes on my shoes and was now finishing my warm-up. I glanced around the track and up into the bleachers, trying to spot my mother in the crowd. She said she would come tonight, and as always, if she said she would be somewhere, she didn’t lie. There she was—third row back, sitting in front of Mr. McKendrick.

I didn’t have too much time to think about why he was there because my heat was up first, and we were being called to the start-up blocks.

Pushing my thumbs into my track pants, I kept my eyes on my mother—oh yes, thank you, Mom, for sitting right there—and then let them shift slightly behind to the man who was…hmm, aiming a camera in my direction.

I removed my pants and kicked them aside so I was standing in tight mesh shorts, and out of the corner of my eye, I was sure Mr. McKendrick shifted in his seat.

Feeling a smirk hit my lips, I reached up to my long ponytail and tightened it, knowing that it raised the Lycra tank I wore up over my navel.

“I know you can do this, Addison. Your times have been outstanding in practice,” Miss Shrieve told me as we walked to my lane.

Lane four. That was where I was running today. I would have preferred three—one, two, three—but I got four. I would make do.

When we reached the starting blocks, Miss Shrieve grabbed my forearm, stopping me and forcing me to turn.

“Are you okay today?”

With a little more force than was necessary, I tugged my arm away from her and gave a swift nod, still remembering the way she had invited Mr.…ahh, this is where she’d invited him. To photograph the race, not on a date like he’d led me to believe. Nice try.

Finding my mother in the bleachers again, she gave the perfunctory wave. I smiled like the good daughter I was, but my eyes were on the man who was waving at the woman beside me.

As Miss Shrieve returned the gesture, she looked back to me with a smile left over from him, and I had a huge desire to scratch it right off her face.

“Okay, you can do this.”

I waited for her to take a step back behind the start up blocks, where she could time me. I walked into position and sized up the other girls I’d be competing against.

Competition didn’t seem so tough, and as the announcer started to call out our school affiliations, I placed my hands on my waist and started to bounce from foot to foot in a small, flirty dance that loosened my hips and would hopefully lengthen my stride.

As my hair swished back and forth with my little jig, I heard Brandon and the other boys wolf-whistling and calling out my name from the sidelines.

I knew they loved it when I did this. It had become something of an event in itself, and Brandon had once told me it was the sexiest shit he’d ever seen.

I made sure to look up at Mr. McKendrick as I did it for the final time, and his eye, I was pleased to find, was pressed to the viewfinder with the lens directed my way.

He was watching me, and I was about to give him the show of a lifetime.

How the fuck could any red-blooded man look away from that? I thought as Addison—lane four, with school-colored ribbons in her hair—danced up and down from toe to toe.

It would be bad enough if that was all she was doing, but add in the outfit, one pair of short shorts, a tank top that molded to every curve she had, and that sassy smirk she was definitely aiming my way, and yes—I was fucked. With a capital fucking F.

Coming here tonight had been a terrible idea, and now that I was seated in the bleachers tempted by my own personal version of Eve, I knew, if offered, I’d be biting that fucking apple.

Who was I kidding? She’d already offered. All I had to do was bite.

When Addison had waved in my direction, at first I’d thought she was waving at me. Until the woman seated below me raised an arm and her—mother, I assumed—waved back.

There I was, thinking about how Addison’s long, lean legs would feel wrapped around my waist, while her mother was here to watch her daughter race.

In my mind, there were only two places for people with thoughts like mine.

Prison or the fiery pits of hell.

Still, I zoomed in on the flirty girl through my camera, and I couldn’t find it in me to care.

Not one little bit.

With my feet in the starting blocks, I focused on the 100-meter lane ahead of me and blocked out everything else. All of the surrounding noise ceased, and I listened, instead, to the constants.

Tick, tick, tock—my watch—Tick, tick, tock.

Tickticktick—BANG!

The gunshot ricocheted through the track, signaling go time—and I was off.

Quick as a flash, I was up and sprinting toward the first jump while keeping count in my mind, knowing that was essential for this race.

One, two, three—jump. First one down.

Thundering toward the next, I felt confident. I knew how easy I made this seem.

One, two three—jump. Second one down.

Yes! This was what I lived for. I could feel the air hitting my cheeks as I powered on.

One, two, three—jump. Third one down, and I was making this bitch mine.

Nothing felt this good or made me feel so free. As I leaped over the next four, I realized I was over halfway through and by my estimation, nine seconds down the track.

One, two, three—jump. Eight down, two to go.

I loved the feeling of the air rushing in and out, fueling my body as my limbs strived for perfection.

One, two, three—jump. Nine was done, and I had one more.

One more, and I would be the winner. One more, and I would be the best. One more, and…one, two, three—jump.

Ten! I was done!

As I slowed my run to a jog and placed my hands on my hips, I pivoted toward the bleachers. There was my mother, perfecting the act of good parenting by standing and clapping. I gave a brisk wave and then I saw him step to the side and knew he’d done it so he could see me.

The announcer came over the loudspeaker confirming what I already knew. “The winner...lane four...Addison Lancaster, with a personal best of fifteen seconds.”

Yes. I had run my personal best, and now I wanted my prize.

She’d been magnificent. Like a cheetah sprinting into action, Addison had taken off at the starting gun and in fifteen seconds, had torn up the track as if her life depended on it.

I had forgotten all about the photos and was unable to resist getting to my feet when everyone else did. The crowd began chanting her name because she was unbelievable. It was clear she was the star of the school and when she finished that race, it was obvious why.

Her mother looked around proudly as Addison crossed the finish line, and when she spotted me, checked me out before jumping to her feet, clapping and waving.

That had been the minute I realized I needed to leave.

I was looking at Addison, and her mother was looking at me. What I was thinking, it was wrong. It was a violation on all levels, and just being there and imagining Addison in such a way made me feel…guilty.

As soon as I was able to get around everyone, I moved out onto the steps with my eyes still on the winner at the end of the track. When I got to the bottom of the stairs, Brandon and Sam caught my eye and waved at me.

“Pretty fucking amazing, isn’t she?”

I couldn’t bring myself to disagree, so I just nodded before making my way into the school.

It was just turning five thirty and I figured I might as well get the class’s papers to take home and grade. I needed a distraction to take my mind off its current fixation.

Entering my classroom, I collected up the papers, switched the light back off and made my way out into the hall. I was halfway to the exit when Addison came around the corner and stopped.

I knew that she’d come for me, and if I hadn’t been sure, the look her face clued me in real fucking fast.

“Congratulations on your win,” I told her, determined not to let her unnerve me. I was the adult here, not her. I just had to remember that and act like one.

Walking toward her, I was happy to see she had at least added her sports jacket back to the ensemble. Unfortunately, she’d left off the track pants and was still only wearing those short fucking shorts.

“Thanks. I was surprised to see you in the stands.” She paused as she walked closer. “Did you come to see me?”

I brought the papers up against my chest and held them there. It was a pathetic excuse for a shield, but anything was better than nothing.

“I didn’t come to see you specifically, no. I came to take photographs of the event and support the school.”

“But now you’re leaving after only one race?”

Refusing to let her walk all over me, I nodded. “Well, I remembered I had papers to grade.”

With a knowing look, she bit her bottom lip, and when her top teeth sunk into the pillowy flesh, my cock came to rigid attention.

“Or maybe you already saw what you wanted to see?”

“Addison.”

“Yes?”

“I have told you before, this isn’t going to happen.”

“No? What if you don’t touch? There’s nothing wrong with…watching, is there?”

My mind raced with the possibilities. She brushed past me so our shoulders met, and I could smell the sweet, sugary body spray she must have used after her race.

She smelled sinful.

I turned as she looked over her shoulder at me and walked into my…no, our history classroom.

Closing my eyes, I counted backwards from ten.

This was a bad idea. A really fucking bad idea, but as I made my way back to the classroom door, I knew that I was about to bite the apple.