I notice that BIlly is totally scoping out my tits. I should be disgusted but my inner-exhibitionist is enjoying the attention. Maybe it's because him scoping me out means that he isn’t so far gone in his break-up hurt that I need to worry about him. I look back up into his face and as our eyes meet I feel my world start to spin. Is it his soft green eyes, the weed? I’m not sure but I’m feeling completely off balance and literally start to slip from the ladder when Billy’s hands reach out faster than lightening and grab my wrists, keeping me from plunging in to the pool. There is a smile in his eyes and a look of ‘no-big-deal’ in his eyes as the smoldering joint hangs from his lips as if nothing happened. He looks like some unholy fusion of that Beiber kid and Keith Richards. Holy crap. It isn’t the weed making my head spin. It’s Billy. He pulls me up the ladder another step and makes sure I find my footing before he lets go. He pulls the jay from his lips and offers it to me. I. “Have you seen Peter?” I asked. “He’s upstairs” she answered. She knew what was going to happen. I had confided in her a while ago that I discipline Peter. I went upstairs to our bedroom. Peter was sitting on the bed. Waiting for me. He jumped up immediately. “I’m sorry Jackie.” “You have gone too far this time Peter. Did you really think you were going to get away with it?” “I don’t know what happened” he bleated. “Really. So how do you manage to crash the car when I forbade you only this morning to drive it? Tell me that Peter?” He stood there, wringing his hands, looking at the floor, knowing he was in trouble. Well I had had enough. This was his second crash in three months. He just goes around like a boy racer and hits something. It’s just luck that no one is hurt. “What did I tell you this morning Peter?” “Not to take the car” he said quietly. “And?” “You.
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