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But I was used to getting my own way and I wasn't about to back down now. "I'm not apologizing for shit, you're not my dad," I retorted, my eyes blazing with anger. My stepdad's jaw clenched at my words, and suddenly I was being pulled up off the sofa and back to my feet. I glared up at him, but there was something about the way he was looking at me that made me uneasy. "If you were my daughter I would have raised you better. I certainly wouldn't have allowed you to go out dressed like a slut," he said, his eyes roving over my dress. The words hit me hard, and I suddenly felt self-conscious about the way I was dressed. I was wearing a tight mini-dress that accentuated my curves and showed off my legs. I suddenly became aware of how exposed I was feeling in front of him. "I'm not dressed like a slut," I protested, my cheeks turning pink in embarrassment. "I can wear whatever I want."
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