Royal Flush

by Ella Goode

  “I think they go to our school,” he says with a shrug. He thinks? I’m not sure I’m going to be making any new friends at school if I’m hanging out with Carter. He gives looks that send people running. I wish I had that superpower. I wouldn’t use it like he does though. I generally like most people. I just want to be able to use it on jerk-offs like my mom’s boyfriend.

  “Are you coming?” Carter says with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. When I look up I see a sour look on his face from me looking at the two guys that he’s just run off.

  Now I’m starting to think he’s getting jealous. First with the valet and now with the two guys.

  “For a guy who said last night you have no interest in sleeping with me you have a weird way of showing it.” He starts to open his mouth but I cut him off. “Ripping my clothes off. Snipping at men who look my way.”

  He opens his mouth then closes it. “Come on.” Now it’s me motioning him into the store. “I’m going to need your wallet to afford anything from inside this store.” I walk ahead of him. I turn my head to look at him. “Or maybe I already have it,” I joke. I don’t, but I at least expect for him to reach to check. He doesn’t. He nearly shrugs.

  “Good luck trying to make a dent in it. In fact, take it as a challenge. You seem to like those.”

  “Challenge accepted.” I walk to the first rack of hanging clothes that I see. I begin to rummage through them, sliding each hanger along the metal rod until I find something I like. I lift the price tag up and my mouth drops open. I know I teased Carter about making a dent in his wallet but there is no way that I can allow myself to spend this type of money on clothing.

  Carter takes it from my hand, handing it to a woman that came out of nowhere. “Get her a room. My girl, like always, has a point to prove.”

  This time it’s me that’s left speechless. Did he just call me his girl?

  Chapter Eleven

  Carter

  “Is that Carter Franklin?” I hear someone squeal.

  “No way. Carter Franklin doesn’t shop. It’s too normal. He has people come to his house with trunks of clothes and he picks out what he wants from there.”

  “Seriously?”

  “That’s what I heard.”

  I roll my head to one side and then the other. The cracking of my neck makes them shut up.

  “Oh, Carter, it is you,” one of the girls says. She looks vaguely familiar. I might have seen her in a class or one of my teammates might have fucked her after a game. That happens. “It’s Bea Simpson.”

  I stare up at the brunette and try to place her. All of the girls in my school look pretty much the same. Either they have stick-straight hair or fat curls, but it’s uniformly long and they almost all have a Starbucks cup glued to their hands. Not that the guys are much different with their sneaker gear, jeans, and untucked T-shirts.

  “He doesn’t know,” says the second one, nudging her friend to the side. “Bea and I were in your stats class last semester.”

  “Okay.” I’m not sure why they’re talking to me. Most people in school know better. I roll my neck again and wonder what’s taking Waif so long. I guess I shouldn’t call her that. She told me her real name—Mallory Simmons —and her date of birth—September—and her Social Security number, but she’s always going to be the lost girl I found in the back seat of my Maserati.

  “Rumor is that you’re having a party this weekend.”

  “Ahh, well…” If I lie will that mean no one comes? I didn’t promise Brad that I’d host a big party or that I’d publicize it.

  “He is. You should come.”

  My eyes flick immediately toward the dressing room, where Waif is standing in one of the new outfits she picked out. The shorts have sort of a ruffle around her waist and the top is cropped, showing off a stripe of skin. I like it. “We’ll take it,” I tell the clerk who’s hovering over my shoulder.

  “There are two different colors.”

  “Great.”

  “There are a few other items in that collection. I also recommend these shoes.”

  “Put those on the card, too.”

  “Wait a second,” protests Waif.

  The clerk pauses but I wave her off. She scurries away to ring up everything before Waif can change my mind.

  With a scowl, Waif watches the clerk leave. “Don’t I get an opinion?”

  “It depends if you have bad taste. People with bad taste don’t get to have opinions about clothes.”

  “How is it that I have bad taste? Maybe you’re the one with bad taste,” she accuses. Her arms fly out and I take the opportunity to admire her sexy body, which is all soft, round curves, hips that I can dig my fingers into, and tits perky enough to balance a glass on. I can definitely envision sliding my cock in between those two globes. The blood starts pooling in my jeans so I force that image out of my head.

  “Do you like this outfit?”

  She makes a face, clearly not wanting to agree with me on anything. “Maybe.”

  “Then maybe you have good taste.”

  “Is this...your...cousin?” the brunette breaks in. I’ve forgotten her name already. In fact, I forgot that Waif and I weren’t alone in this joint.

  “No,” I say.

  “Yes,” Waif says at the same time.

  My brows come together. “Yes?” Did she just say we were cousins to two of my classmates?

  “I’m Mallory,” Waif announces before I can interject, strolling up to the girls with her hand out. “I just moved to town to stay with Uncle—” She shoots a demanding stare at me, silently ordering me to supply my dad’s name.

  “Teddy,” I supply reluctantly, not sure of where Waif is going with this.

  Her triumphant grin sends a cold shiver down my spine. It’s like she’s slowly realizing her power over me. That’s terrifying and yet, somehow very sexy. My dick twitches happily. In order not to embarrass myself, I switch my gaze to the floor and start counting the tiles.

  “Right. Uncle Teddy. Anyway, my mom’s sick so I had to come and stay with Uncle Teddy and Deuce, but Deuce here says that my wardrobe sucked so here we are.” She sounds annoyed, as if I’m the problem.

  “Deuce?” they echo.

  “Wait,” says the brunette. I should really learn their names. “You call Carter a nickname? That’s not allowed.”

  “And he’s shopping.”

  Even with my head down, I can feel the three of them boring their eyes into my skull.

  “He’s my cousin so he really can’t tell me what I can and cannot call him,” Waif declares. This isn’t going to end well. When I start pawing her in the middle of the hallway, shoving her skirt up and sucking on her neck during passing period, our classmates are really going to have questions.

  “Wow. You really must be related because I can’t see Carter allowing anyone else to say stuff like that. He’s kind of...difficult.”

  “You mean he’s an asshole,” Waif says. “I know, but don’t worry. I’m here to cut him down to size.”

  “Right on.”

  I hear the girls exchange high-fives. What a nightmare this is developing into.

  “I’m Bea Simpson and this is Emma Williams. We’re both seniors.”

  “Cool. You’re coming to the party on Friday, right?”

  Again, I feel their eyes on me, waiting for me to deny that there is such a thing. I keep my head down because I do not want this party, but if I say this, I suspect that Waif will invite everyone in this damn mall just to spite me.

  “Absolutely. You couldn’t keep us away,” answers Bea. “I feel like you’re going to be a good influence on Carter—wait, what did you call him?”

  “Deuce.”

  I stand up and intervene because I cannot have the entire school calling me by that asinine nickname. “It’s Carter so unless you have the same last name as me, you aren’t calling me anything else.”

  “I don’t have the same last name as you,” counters Waif.

  “Not yet you don’t,
” I mutter.

  Chapter Twelve

  Mallory

  I hit the snooze button for the umpteenth time and snuggle up with my blanket. My nerves kept me up half of the night. It feels as though I only closed my eyes a few minutes ago and it’s morning already. Today is going to be my first day at FU high posing as Carter's cousin. As if I didn’t have enough to worry about, I lied and said I was related to him. I panicked a little when we ran into some of his classmates in the mall and now I have to go with it. I sigh and punch one of the twenty pillows that are scattered around me.

  “Not sure what that pillow did to you,” I hear Carter’s deep voice say.

  I flick my eyes up to him and almost gasp at how handsome he looks standing over me. “I was pretending it was your face.” I pull the blanket up higher to cover my mouth, which is now smiling. I probably look a mess and he’s as handsome as ever. Carter smirks and shakes his head at me.

  “Someone woke up in a mood. You need to get moving. Thirty minutes until we’re out,” he informs me. Those last few words have me jolting up and heading toward the bathroom. Crap. I have to make myself look presentable for my first day in only thirty minutes. After my restless night, I’ll need a miracle to accomplish looking halfway decent. I have a feeling that all eyes are going to be on me.

  First impressions are important. I’m not sure why I care what these people think of me but suddenly, I do. I want to fit in. Although Carter can be a dick, he’s giving me an opportunity that I’ll always be grateful for. I have a chance at a new beginning. Finishing high school will offer me more job opportunities if I’m able to say I have a high school diploma. Things don’t seem as grim as they did a few days ago.

  I look around this vast bathroom and thank my lucky stars that I picked Carter’s car to take a nap in. I’m still not sure why he’s helping me out but I can’t worry about that right now. I am going to take his handout. Life has given me enough shitty ones that I’m not turning down a good one. I switch on one of the fancy fixtures and warm water starts to spray on me. I let the water wash away my worries for a few minutes before rinsing off as quickly as possible and stepping out. I dry myself with the towel that was hanging on the warming rack and get a move on finding something to wear. I step out of the bathroom trying to hurry and run smack into what I’m hoping is Carter.

  “Shit,” he says as his hand reaches out to steady me. A sudden chill runs through me even though his touch is warm to my skin. I was in such a rush that I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going. I look up at him but his eyes are not focused on mine. It’s then I realize that I’m standing in front of him naked. My towel must have dropped when we collided. My hands rest on his chest. “Get dressed. I’m never late,” he half growls but doesn't let my shoulder go where he grabbed me to keep me from falling on my ass.

  “You have to let me go,” I remind him. His hold on me tightens for half a second before he lets go, stomping from the room. I stand there in shock for a moment, not sure what to say.

  I look around for the bags of clothes I got but don’t see them anywhere. “Your clothes are in my closet” is shouted from the other room.

  “As in your closet?” I shout back.

  “Yep.” The single word is clipped, followed by what I think is the banging of a pan. I make my way to Carter’s closet and in fact see all the clothes I’d gotten hung up. His closet is in perfect order. I am noticing he can be a little OCD at times—or maybe it’s not OCD, but it’s definitely something. He likes things a certain way or expects them to be that way. I started noticing it yesterday when we spent the day lying around his place. Okay, I was the one that was actually lying around but that’s not the point. Carter is always doing something to keep busy. He’s always trying to make sure things are in order.

  I grab a pair of jeans that cost more than some people make in a week. I got a ton of tops too but I find myself venturing over to Carter’s side of the closet. I pull one of his shirts down. It says his last name across the back with the number two on it. The front says Franklin U High across the chest. I slip on one of the silky bras before I pull it over my head. It’s way too big for me but I tie it on the side. For some reason it feels like it might be armor for me. Carter might be a jerk to people but it is clear people don’t mess with him and he is popular. I’m not sure if it's by choice.

  I go back into the bathroom and try and do something with my hair. I don’t know why. It always hangs straight no matter what I do to it. I put on some mascara and lip gloss and call it a day. Any other time I think I’d linger to make Carter late but I don’t want to be late on my first day either. I’m sure I’ll have to pick up a schedule or something.

  I stroll into the kitchen. Carter picks up a bag, putting it over my shoulder. “Nice shirt.” I can’t tell if he’s being sarcastic or not.

  “Better than naked right? ‘Cause you’re not attracted to me. Remember?” I remind him of what he said to me the first night I stayed here. I don’t know why that popped out of my mouth. I guess it is still bugging me. “This mine?” I reach for the sandwich he has sitting on a plate. I don’t really wait for an answer as I turn and head toward his car.

  “I don’t eat in my car,” he says from behind me.

  “Then you better finish your sandwich before you get in, Deuce.” I look back at him. Again I can’t read his face. “Thanks for mine.” I take a bite of it with every intention of eating it in the car and somehow I know he’s going to let me.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Carter

  I’m in a bad mood and I’m not making any attempt at hiding it. My dick is getting sore from all the jacking off I’m doing. Seeing Waif naked sent me into my bathroom, where I jerked myself to a very unsatisfying orgasm. It was either that or go to school with a chub. I was glad I did it because seeing her in my shirt would’ve had me bending her over on the kitchen island had I not taken the edge off.

  Can anyone blame me? My name was all over her back. She’s basically going to school announcing to everyone that she belongs to me. My dick immediately sat up and took notice. I had to give myself another groin punch to calm down. Why is she so sexy? Why can’t she, for a single holy moment, be a hag? I need the break. My dick needs the break. I need to sleep. I need—fuck, who knows what I need? I guess I just need her. I need her in my bed, under my body, her wet heat surrounding my massive erection, her lips glued to mine. Like, is that so much to ask?

  Apparently so, because she hasn’t shown the slightest interest in me. I have chicks on my jock all the fucking time so I know when a girl wants me. They come up and try to palm my groin or they’ll leave their underwear in my locker or they’ll ambush me after practice. Waif acts like I’m an annoyance at best. At worst, I’m a monster that is going to eat her in her sleep. And I can’t even deny that because half my fantasies do involve me pulling her to the edge of the sofa, parting her thighs and eating her pussy until she creams all over my mouth. Understandably, I had to rub one out.

  But the side trip to the john to take care of my hard-on meant that my schedule is off whack. I didn’t get to eat my breakfast in the kitchen like a civilized human. I was forced to gulp it down in my Maserati while Waif did the same. There are crumbs all over the carpet and seat. I had to leave the car in that state because we got to school late.

  Now I’m sitting in my English class watching Waif being stared at by half the penis-heads in my school. They’re about five seconds away from whipping their dicks out onto her desk, which means they’re about six seconds away from me cutting their sausages off with my notebook and shoving the meat down their own throats. I glare at every single one of them until they turn away.

  “You’re making a weird noise. It’s scaring people,” hisses Waif. I installed her in the desk next to mine. Some kid walked in a minute later and objected. I handed him a hundred-dollar bill and he took his complaints elsewhere. Waif watched it all with a weird expression on her face. I couldn’t figure out if she was impressed or d
isgusted—probably the latter. She never appears to be impressed with anything I do.

  “Good,” I retort. I’d piss on her leg to mark her as mine if that actually did any good, but I keep that information to myself.

  “You might enjoy being the school asshole, but I’m trying to make friends.” She smiles at a girl next to her who looks vaguely familiar.

  “Hi. I’m Aly,” says the girl.

  “I’m Wai—“ she shoots me a dirty look as if I’m somehow responsible for her forgetting her own name. “I’m Mallory Franklin. Carter’s cousin. I just transferred.” She trots out her story about her mom getting sick and my dad insisting on her moving here to finish out her senior year. I wonder how much of that tale is true—that her mom is sick and all. Waif refuses to open up about her past.

  “I didn’t know Carter had a cousin, but then again he never talks about anything to anyone.” Aly cranes her neck around Waif. “For all we know, he could be dismembering people at his house.”

  “It’s still a possibility. His house is huge and I haven’t been inside of it yet.”

  “You haven’t been inside?” Aly’s eyes grow wide.

  At this point, everyone in the classroom is practically sitting on top of us, listening to this exchange. I clear my throat and try to stare everyone into submission, but no one is paying any attention to me.

  “Where are you staying if you’re not at his house? They aren’t making you sleep in a car, are they?” Aly asks in horrified tones.

  Waif turns bright red at this and a gasp spreads like mono through the room. I can’t believe I have to start talking to my classmates.