Chapter Three

*Warning: May contain typos and an unhealthy amount of dot dot dots... and !s*

I should have known that going home would be a mistake. Silly me though, I forgot that my best friend and my dad had each other on speed-dial! A guy couldn't smile at me without Brad calling my dad to tell him about it. Brad was like my father's personal spy! And yeah, maybe I am exaggerating a little bit, but that's beside the point.

I should have known that I would walk right into a Law and Order interrogation as soon as I walked through the front door.

I say Brad is bad. My long-time best friend made sure I was safe at school, at any parties, and the like. My entire team reported to him like he was some sort of warden and they were his subordinates. However, Brad reported to my father who was ten times worse. If Henry Kyle Jordan had his way, I'd be kept in an indestructable plastic bubble where no one could ever hurt me, never even breathe on me.

My father used to play football in school; guess what position he played. Yes, he was a tackle; to be more specific he was the left tackle. It was his job to watch his quarterback's blind side and to protect him. He did a great job too; my father was and still is a giant wall of a human being.

Anyways, his years of protecting his teammates rubbed off on him. If it is smaller than him, and it can breathe, he has the compulsive need to make sure it's safe. My mother thinks it's adorable. She told me that when they first started dating in the tenth grade, he would walk her to every class, carry her books, practically roll out a red carpet just for her. She said in college, they shared an apartment and got a puppy; he was crazy protective of the little guy. Then, when I was born, she said it was the only time she'd ever seen him cry; in addition, she knew that he would be that overbearing parent who never wanted their child to grow up. It got better as I grew up and started playing football, but as soon as I hit puberty and my mother explained to us that I was a "submissive" his protectiveness came back tenfold.

As soon as I walked inside, there he was: a large, stern-looking mass of dad. His big, muscular arms were crossed over his huge chest, and he was looking down at me with those eyes that clearly said 'I know what happened but you're going to tell me about anyways, then I'm going to hunt someone down'. He pulled that look off really well.

"Hey, Dad," I said, "How was work today?" I smiled up at him, my best, biggest, most innocent grin. I could tell by the softening of his stance that I had managed to calm the beast at least a little bit.

"Work was boring as always," he replied. "Now, why don't you tell me wh-"

"My poor baby!" a shrill and teary voice cried before I was practically tackled to the ground. My mother should have played football. "Are you hurt? Did he hurt you? Are you okay? Did he hurt you?"

"Woah! Mom!" I yelled, squirming out of her grasp. I glared at both of my parents. "You're overreacting just like the team did! It was just a kiss; neither you guys or the team have any reason to be upset. I was upset earlier, sure, but you have no right to treat me and act like I can't take care of myself! And I don't know what Brad and the guys did to Phillip but he wouldn't even look at me earlier, not that I really care, but-"

"Phillip Greene right?" my dad questioned. He looked like he was comtemplating something. "His father and I played ball together in school. I think I have his number here somewh-"

I yelled out something between 'grr' and 'aaahhh' before I moved past my parents, up the stairs, to the last door on the right, and slammed the door to my room. I locked it then so no one would come in and plopped down angrily on my bed.

I'll admit it, if I was in a fight I would probably lose, but then I would have lost by myself. I would have fought for myself and lost by myself. I wouldn't have someone fight for me, and I wouldn't have everyone thinking that I'm even more girly than an actual girl. I mean, the guys on the team would leave their girlfriends to walk me home after a party. Do I give off some sort of signal or something that says I can't do anything for myself?

Don't get me wrong, I enjoy the attention; I enjoy knowing that I have so many people that care about me. I am no where near short on friends. I love my parents, my coach, and my teammates; I appreciate the fact that they worry about me. Maybe it's just me, but I think they overreact. Excluding Phillip and the occasional creepy note in my locker, nothing happens to me that people should worry themselves over.

I sighed and rolled over to stare at the ceiling.

I closed my eyes for a second and the next thing I know, my mom is beating on my door for me to come to dinner.

Cherry

"So, Son," my dad began as he scooped a bite of mashed potatoes into his mouth, "How did your detention go?"

I decided to humor him since he didn't sound angry or like he was going to start talking about Phillip. "Actually," I said, "I didn't go to it. Or at least I didn't have to stay."

"Oh? Did your teacher realize that it wasn't your fault?"

I rolled my eyes but then smiled brightly. "No, she let me off the hook to show these guys from Richs around. You know that new school our team is playing?"

"I recognize the name," my dad answered.

"It's a school where a lot of my kind send their kids," my mom elaborated. "I assume you met some of us?" she turned to me.

I nodded enthusiastically. "I met four of them! Two of them were submissives like me!"

"And the other two?" Dad questioned, getting that look in his eyes that said he didn't approve. I'm sure my blush didn't help as I thought about one of those other two.

My mom perked up and slapped my arm. "Kyle!" she exclaimed. "Were they cute?" she asked with a twinkle in her eyes.

"Oh my goodness, Mom! Yes!" I replied with a quick smirk at my dad. "This one guy Conner was cute and blonde, but Sebastien-"

"Sebastien?" she suddenly interrupted. "Almost impossibly handsome?" I nodded. "Black hair?" Nod. "Silver eyes?" I nodded again. What was going on?

"How did you know?"

She completely ignored me though and looked at my confused father. "Do you remember Alexander?" she asked him. A dark look passed over his face, and I assume she took that as a yes because she continued (still ignoring me). "Well, he has a son named Sebastien." They both looked at me.

"What's going on?" I asked. "Who's Alexander? How did you know who I was talking about?"

"Don't worry about that, Honey," my mom replied. "Just stay away from this Sebastien guy."

"Yeah," my dad agreed. "I don't want you near him."

"What!"

"Just listen to us," he practically growled at me, stabbing his chicken and shoving a bite into his mouth. I recognized that as his dinner code for 'let it go and just do as I say'.

How was I supposed to just let that go? How could they just drop that bomb on me and then tell me to let it go? WHAT!

I was about to ask about it but then my mom shot me a look that would make my dad proud and I knew to just keep my mouth shut... for now.

Because I just could not let that go.

Cherry

MasterCherry: Well, it's short! Too short for my tastes, but I wanted to get something out! I'm determined to update this more regularly so YAY! In fact, I plan on working on the next chapter as soon as I'm done posting this one!

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