Page 41 of Brat Baby
Actively flaunting authority is so not my thing. Putting myself out there, right in the center of things? Hell, no. Intentionally making my foster parents or case workers notice me only ever led to a situation that now requires a box that is buried deep in the darkest parts of my mind.
So, to do what I’m about to do is…
I mentally smack myself and stiffen my spine.
No. That line of thinking has to go. It does not fit the vibe of this new version of me. Plus, I’m not a scared little girl at the whims of the adults around her anymore. I get to choose the direction of my life now. No one else. And my daddies are my true north.
I’ve done a little research about this, but what keeps coming back to me is that random post I found that first Friday. The oneabout the baby girl acting like a brat when she needs her daddy to notice that she requires a good hard fuck to bring her back into line.
And that’s what I want.
Yes, the fuck. But mostly, themseeingthat I need them. I want my daddies to notice me, to see me, to be so angry at me that they absolutely must correct my behavior. And the only way to get that reaction is to act out.
This is me acting out. Well, step one, anyway. I’m going to continue to escalate until they all come back to me. Or tell me, in no uncertain terms, that they truly are done. No more rewards randomly showing the fuck up. And definitely no more weekend payments.
No more mixed signals.
This is it. Either my plan works, or it doesn’t. My aim is to have them back with me by midterms. If I haven’t managed to get them to reinstate the contract in its entirety by then, I’ll wave the proverbial white flag and move on with my life.
Anything after that would be pure humiliation. While I may love watching reality TV shows, I did not sign up to star in one.
Tapping the screen of my phone, I check the time. A couple of minutes past the start of the hour. Perfect. Derek will be wondering where I am. Which is the ideal time to make my entrance.
I touch my necklace, then my bracelet for a bit of courage, before dropping my hand to the doorknob and leaving the room.
The hallway is empty, everyone having settled into whatever room they are in, and my heels clack as I walk. They aren’t quite stilettos, but they are high enough that my legs and ass look freaking amazing.
I don’t let myself pause to give in to the raging flutter of the butterflies that have taken over my entire being when I get to thedoor. I simply push on the handle and walk into the room with my head held high.
The class is underway, as expected, and my sudden entrance causes Derek to falter. It takes everything I have not to look his way as I attempt to sashay along the front of the room to the stairs in the middle. It feels odd as I put a little extra something into my sway, but I can feel the skirt swishing across the backs of my thighs.
“You will have your first quiz on Wednesday…”
Hundreds of eyes stare at me, and it makes my skin crawl, but I keep my chin up high as the pleated skirt I’d worn as the fuck toy shifts with each of my steps. I keep my pace steady, not rushed. I want him to get a good look at what he’s missing. And if everyone else sees, then so be it.
Their stares will probably add a little something to it, what with how much he enjoys watching.
That thought makes me grin as I turn my back on Derek and go up the few steps to my regular spot, which is thankfully empty. The rest of my plan only works if I’m sitting right where he can’t ignore me.
I take my seat and slowly place my things on the table, not being quiet or quick about it. The room remains silent, except for a few coughs. Once I have my laptop open, I glance up at Derek and want to simultaneously smirk and shrink back in my seat.
Which does absolutely nothing for the nausea still curdling in my stomach, but I force myself to ignore that and offer my best attempt at a serene smile. Faking it till I make it and all that.
A vein throbs in his forehead, and his jaw is so tightly clamped, I’m concerned for his teeth. When he talks, his words are clipped, and if my plan wasn’t to provoke him into a reaction, I’d be a terrified fucking mess. But, luckily for me, that is the plan. “Are you done, Ms. Nicholas? May we restart the class?”
I let my smile grow into a smirk. “Yes, you may, Professor King.”
That vein gives a solid throb, and he breaks eye contact to stare at his laptop for a moment, both hands death gripping either side of the lectern. There is murmuring from the other students, but I ignore it. Justin looks between Derek and me, clearly lost as to what is happening right now.
Derek cuts a look in his direction, and Justin immediately stands, taking over the class while Derek turns his back to us. I’m fucking delighted with his reaction. This is exactly what I was hoping for when I decided that I’d had enough of being a good girl for them.
Now I’m ready to see what being a brat gets me.
Casually, I take a few notes about the upcoming quiz on Wednesday, but mostly, I watch Derek.
He fishes something out of his pocket, and if I wasn’t watching as intently as I am, I would have missed the fact that it’s his phone. My gaze bounces between him and my phone, conveniently placed on my table, ready to accept whatever messages may come its way.
His shoulders are tense beneath the brown fabric of his suit jacket, but then he relaxes and turns back to face the room. Some of the tension has eased, but there is no smile on his face. Nope. Still a tight expression that would normally have me scurrying out of the room.
