Page 35 of Off Limits
He pushes some hair off my face with his thumb and almost hesitates before speaking.
“Why don’t I brush your hair today, too, when you’re ready? I can braid it like I used to.”
“Sure,” I say, with a flush. “That would be nice.” It’s been a long time since Jean-Luc put out my school clothes or brushed my hair, and it makes me feel cared for.
I return to my room to find my school uniform laid out on the bed in the shape of a person. Blouse at the top with sleeves akimbo, skirt in the middle, and socks carefully unrolled at the bottom. A pair of the new underpants is laid out across the skirt.
The idea that Jean-Luc has handled my underwear, and has carefully laid it out for me to put on causes my heart to skip a beat. I like the fact that he’ll know what panties I have on all day.
At the top of the bed, nestled between two pillow, is Bunners. Jean-Luc must have carried him over here when I was sleeping, and curiously it completes the look: my schoolgirl uniform, white panties, stuffed animal. The combination makes me smile. There’s an innocence to it that reminds me of how safe Jean-Luc has always made me feel. My dad. And despite what happened last night, despite how much I want to be a woman in his bed, I want this too: the little girl who gets taken care of.
Jean-Luc is in the kitchen when I get there, dressed in his usual attire: grey slacks and white shirt. His jacket is folded over a dining room chair and the sleeves of his shirt are rolled up to his elbows. He smiles at me when I walk into the kitchen with a kind of wonder, and then walks right up to me, wrapping a large hand around each of my arms. It’s intoxicating to be so close to him, and I can smell the soap and cologne smell of him that’s always strongest in the morning.
“How are you feeling this morning?” he asks, eyes searching my face.
“Good.” I wrap my arms around his waist and step in for a hug, pressing my face against his hard chest. “I love you, Daddy.”
He makes a low noise that makes his chest rumble against my ear. “I love you too, sweetheart.”
I don’t let go of him, only squeezing harder, until he chuckles good-naturedly and says, “Okay, baby, take a seat at the table.”
Orange juice and toast has been put out for me and when I take a seat, he comes up behind me and starts to brush my hair—softly, from the ends, the way he learned to brush my curly hair when I was a kid. When he’s done, he deftly twines a French braid down the back and ties it off at the end.
I run my fingers over my head to feel the tidy, repeating ridges of hair. “Thanks, Jean-Luc.”
“Jean-Luc!” he scoffs, squeezing my shoulder blades affectionately.
“Sorry. Dad.” I correct myself.
I finish my juice and take my toast out to the car, and as we pull out of the driveway, I ask the question that’s on my mind.
“Are you sure you still want me to call you Dad? Now that we…you know…” I have no idea what to call it. “After the stuff we’ve been doing?”
He doesn’t answer right away, but gives me a funny look and checks his rearview mirror. When the way is clear, he pulls the car over to the curb and parks. He turns to face me, his expression serious and thoughtful.
“Dani.” He lays both hands on my thigh and squeezes it affectionately. “Last night… I don’t regret a single thing that happened. You know, the way you said you feel about me, being in love with me, well…I feel the same way about you. I want so much more than what we have. I wish we could have so much more than what we have. But we can’t.” He closes his eyes for a moment and takes a breath before opening them again. “I am your dad. I’ll always be your dad. And I don’t think…well, I don’t think it would be good for either one of us if you talk about what happened, okay? Like, to Christine or anyone at school. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
I want to laugh and cry at the same time. It hasn’t even occurred to me to tell anyone else about how I feel about him, so I don’t see why we can’t do anything we want together.
“I won’t,” I say with heartfelt sincerity. “But why can’t we have more? Why can’t we just have it both ways if no one knows about it?”
“Oh, honey,” he exhales, and reaches for me, pulling me in against him. He cups my cheeks and kisses my hair, my temple, and then my mouth, pressing firm, fast kisses to my lips. “You don’t know how badly I want that. But it’s not that simple. It’s…complicated, what’s happening between us.”
I laugh. “You don’t have to tell me that.”
He kisses me again and then rests his forehead against mine, his hands holding my head. “I guess not.” He sighs and turns back towards the steering wheel, and I smooth down my hair as he stares out the front window. “I’m not really sure what to do, to be honest. I just know that…for now, at least, this has to be our little secret.”
“Of course.” I fold my hands in my lap and press my knees together, feeling happy…I think. If we can be together in secret, that’s better than not being together at all.
Christine and I are standing by our lockers when Kye and Eric saunter up.
“Ooh.” Kye tugs my braid. “This rope coming out of the back of your head would be perfect for holding onto if we were doing it doggy-style, Holland.”
I snap my head away, my braid pulling for a second before he lets go, and glare back at him. Eric bursts into a loud guffaw. “Fuck off, Kye,” I say irritably.
“Hey, don’t be like that, baby,” he croons with a grin. Christine, who’s been crushing on Eric since they were in the eighth grade together, laughs loudly as if she’s in on the joke.
“What do you guys want?”