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Victoria's expression shifted from shock to fury, her eyes narrowing into icy slits.
My scalp prickled, a chill running through me. "M-Mom… why're you back so early?" I stammered, my voice barely a whisper.
Her face was a mask of frost, her chest rising and falling with barely contained rage. She glared at me, the air in the room turning heavy, almost suffocating. Lily shrank beneath me, her head ducked, too mortified to look up.
Victoria didn't speak. After a tense silence, she let out a sharp scoff and slammed the door shut with a force that rattled the frame.
Lily shoved me off, grabbing a pillow and hurling it at my chest. "This is your fault!" she cried, tears welling in her eyes. "I hate you!"
Her face was flushed, and I stayed quiet, letting her vent. I hadn't expected Victoria to come home early—my heart was still pounding from the shock.
Once she calmed down, Lily scrambled to change out of Victoria's clothes, her movements frantic. "It's fine," I said, trying to soothe her. "You're not the one in trouble here. I'll take the heat."
She shot me a glare. "Fine? How am I supposed to face your stepmom after this? It's humiliating! What if she tells my mom?"
I rested a hand on her shoulder, giving it a gentle pat. "Relax. Victoria won't say a word to your mom. She'd be too embarrassed to bring it up."
"Get off me!" Lily pushed my hand away, slipping on her shoes. She hesitated at the door, her eyes wide with fear. I gave her an encouraging nod, and after a moment, she steeled herself, opened the door, and stepped out.
In the living room, Victoria stood like a statue, arms crossed, her face a storm of anger. Her sharp eyes narrowed, radiating a quiet menace that made my stomach twist. Lily tried to shrink back, but I nudged her forward. She scurried past, head down, murmuring, "Bye, Mrs. Reed," before bolting out the front door.
I tried to follow, mimicking her. "See ya, Mrs. Reed—ow!"
Victoria grabbed my ear, yanking me back. Lily didn't even glance back as she slipped out, leaving me to face the storm alone.
Victoria twisted my ear, dragging me into the bedroom and shoving me inside. I stumbled, collapsing at the foot of the bed, curling up and looking at her with wide, pleading eyes.
She scanned the room for something to hit me with, her frustration mounting when nothing suitable caught her eye. I pointed at the bookshelf, muttering, "Dictionary."
She glanced at it, then glared back. "You're pushing it, Alex." Rolling up her sleeves, she stormed over and smacked my head repeatedly with her hand.
I was used to light swats on my arms or backside for screw-ups, but this was different—hard, relentless hits to my head. She was a dragon unleashed, and I didn't dare make a sound, wincing through the pain to avoid fueling her anger.
Finally, she grabbed my ear again, panting. "What were you doing just now?" she demanded, her voice low and dangerous.
"N-Nothing," I said, avoiding her gaze. "Just… talking."
"Talking?" she snapped. "About what? And what was that I heard when I opened the door? Repeat it."
"I… forgot," I mumbled, knowing I'd rather die than say it again.
"Forgot, huh?" She gripped my neck with one hand, smacking my head with the other. "You disrespectful little punk. Think you can joke about anything?"
"I'm sorry!" I pleaded. "I was wrong, Mom, really!"
She stepped back, hands on her hips, glaring down at me, her breath heavy. I'd never seen her this furious. My usual quips died in my throat, replaced by genuine remorse. "I messed up," I said quietly. "It won't happen again."
"You know you're wrong?" she shouted. "Kneel. Now."
I dropped to my knees, heart pounding.
She pointed at the clothes strewn across the bed. "Explain this."
I hesitated, my usual quick wit failing me. "It's… Lily's fault," I said finally. "She wanted to try them on."
"She wanted to?" Victoria's tone dripped with skepticism.
"Yeah," I doubled down, knowing Lily wasn't here to contradict me. "She loves your style, Mom. Said she wanted to see how they'd look on her."
Victoria's eyes narrowed. "So you just gave her my clothes without asking?"
"You like her, don't you?" I said, scrambling. "You treat her like a daughter—better than Bella sometimes."
"Still talking back?" she roared, silencing me instantly.
She stared me down, then asked, "What about my missing stockings? Did you give those to Lily too?"
"Y-Yeah," I lied, my voice faltering. "She… likes them." No way I'd admit I'd taken them for myself, caught up in my obsession. Guilt gnawed at me for throwing Lily under the bus, but I was desperate.
"You're generous with your girlfriend, aren't you?" Victoria said, her voice sharp. "Do you know how expensive those are? Got a girlfriend and forgot your stepmom?"
"No way, Mom," I said, shaking my head. "You're number one in my heart. Always."
"Keep talking nonsense!" She swatted my head twice more, her anger flaring. "You're out of control, Alex. No shame. Kneel there and think about what you've done."
She gathered the clothes from the bed and stormed out, slamming the door. My knees ached, but I didn't dare move. Faint voices drifted from the living room—Victoria on the phone. My heart sank. Was she talking to Lily's mom? If she spilled, we'd both be done for.
After what felt like forever, she returned, sitting on the bed's edge, staring at me in silence. I wanted to speak but couldn't find the courage.
Finally, she spoke. "I talked to your Aunt Rachel."
I blurted, "You didn't tell her everything, did you? That'd be so embarrassing—"
"Kneel!" she snapped, cutting me off. "You're worried about embarrassment?"
"It's not about me," I said quickly. "Lily's a girl. If her mom finds out…"
Victoria's glare silenced me. She softened slightly, her voice steady. "I met Rachel this morning. As your stepmom, I don't mind you and Lily dating. We expected things might… progress. But you're a senior, Alex. This is a critical year. We planned to keep you two apart until college. Then you can do what you want—even get married, if that's what you choose."
"I'm all for that plan," I said eagerly.
"Too late," she said, her tone final.
"What do you mean?"
"You're not seeing Lily anymore."
"What?" I frowned. "You're breaking us up?"
"That's right."
"Why?" I protested, my voice rising.
"Why?" She glared. "How am I supposed to face Lily after this? It's awkward."
"It's a little weird, sure," I admitted. "But you and Aunt Rachel are close. You can't avoid Lily forever."
"Why should I avoid her?" she snapped. "She's the one who should be embarrassed. As long as she's not dating you or coming here, I won't have to deal with it."
"Come on, Mom," I pleaded, scooting closer on my knees, wrapping my arms around her legs. "Don't do this. Lily's… she's the one. I can't lose her."
Victoria scoffed. "First, I'm irreplaceable. Now Lily's the love of your life? Which is it, Alex?"
"They're different," I said, grasping for words. "You're my stepmom. She's… my future. I need both."
"Enough with the sweet talk," she said, rolling her eyes. "You don't need a girlfriend right now. You need a stepmom to keep you in line."
"That's just tyranny!" I said, half-joking.
She raised an eyebrow. "I'm the tyrant here. What're you gonna do? Run away?"
I hugged her legs tighter, pressing my cheek against the smooth black stockings. "No way. I'd never leave you, Mom."
"Always with the nonsense," she muttered, swatting the back of my head.
I winced dramatically. "Ow!"
She hesitated, then reached out, rubbing my head gently. "Does it hurt?"
I nodded, playing up the puppy-dog eyes, my cheek brushing her stockings. "It hurts."
"You deserve it," she said, but her tone softened, her hand still soothing my head.
"I'm sorry," I said quietly. "I won't make you mad again."
Her stockings—velvet, dense, and silky—felt cool against my skin, stirring that familiar fascination I'd had since I was a kid. Back then, Victoria's colorful tights were a vivid memory, etched deep in my mind. After I hit puberty, that fascination turned into something else, a fixation I couldn't shake. I knew it was wrong, but the thrill was too much to resist.
I couldn't exactly go around touching strangers' stockings, so Victoria's were my outlet. Even if she caught me, she'd just scold me or swat me—not call the cops. A small price to pay for the rush.
Deep down, I blamed her for my obsession. Her love for stockings—always wearing them, always flawless—had shaped me, or so I told myself. It was my excuse, anyway, for why I couldn't resist.