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to me, and he had, but he’d have to initiate things, too. When we were alone, I’d give myself to him as his little girl—if he even wanted that anymore—but the rest of the weekend, I’d just be myself. Whatever happened, the ball was in his court.
    When I heard him arrive, my heart began to beat wildly in my chest. My hands got sweaty and I had to resist the urge to run down the stairs and immediately jump on him. I at least wanted to preserve a bit of my dignity.
    I’d purposely chosen to wear jeans and a tank top with a hoodie over it so that he didn’t think I was dressing up for him. I planned to keep today light and platonic. He would eat dinner with us and then be gone in a few hours, anyway, and I probably wouldn’t see him again for months .
    I walked down the stairs quietly and saw him in the living room watching the game with my dad. He was sitting on the couch with his back to me, playing with his bottle of beer. His finger slid in circles around the rim, making me think of the way he’d done that to the puckered rim of my ass the first time we’d had sex. When he dipped his finger into the bottle head, I had to stifle a whimper, but when he repeatedly slid his finger in and out of the bottle, I couldn’t look away.
    He seemed to turn in slow motion before his eyes locked with mine. “Well, hello there, Mackenzie,” he said in a voice much too calm in comparison to my wildly beating heart. Our eyes remained locked, and it felt like he could see into my soul. I felt small and vulnerable, as if I were laid out before him so he could see every aspect of me—very much like the little girl he liked me to portray.
    I tore my eyes from his for a split second to glance down at his hand. He was still moving his finger in and out of the beer bottle slowly. When I dared to look back at his face, he smirked at me, knowing exactly what I was thinking.
    My cheeks flushed a pink that travelled down below the neckline of my hoodie. I had to regain control of myself…be the confident Kenzie that I was at school, and not turn into a blubbering, nonsensical mess. Clearing my throat to regain composure, I calmed myself enough to speak.
    “Hello,” I said as steadily as I could, so as not to show my emotions.
    “Hey, Kenz, can you grab me another beer?” my father asked suddenly, looking away from the game for a brief moment to catch my eyes.
    “Um, can I get you anything, Senator?” I asked, the double entendre causing me to blush again.
    “No, thank you. If I want something, I know I can just get up and take it.”
    I glanced over at my father, sure he would have thought that an odd response, but he was too engrossed in the game to have even noticed.
    “God damn Cowboys!” he yelled at the screen, apparently oblivious to what his friend had just implied.
    I used the retrieval errand to regain my composure, and after delivering the cold beer to my dad, I kept to the kitchen, preparing our Thanksgiving dinner.
    Not only had we planned to eat between games, but my dad wanted to have the meal in the living room so we didn’t have to miss anything. In the end, however, Maxwell convinced him that the three of us should eat at the dining room table, even if we ended up missing the start of the second game.
    My dad carved the turkey while Maxwell uncorked the bottle of wine he brought, grabbed three glasses, and started to pour.  
    “Hey now, you're not corrupting minors there, are you Senator?” my dad joked.
    “Oh, I forget. Mackenzie just seems so grown up, but she’s just a little girl, isn’t she?” Maxwell joked back.
    “I wish. I don’t even want to know what goes on at that college she goes to…but she is underage, so no wine for her.”
    “I’m right here,” I reminded them petulantly. “And I’m not that young.”
    “Don’t remind me. I hate that she’s growing up. You should have seen me the first time a boy came over to take her on a date.”
    “Dad, please.” I knew I was bright