by Goode, Ella
“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 13
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 disgusted—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.
“She lives with me,” I say abruptly.
This generates a flurry of other activity such as where do I live and how come she doesn’t live with my uncle and where’s the party going to be at.
“He lives above the garage across from the house,” Waif interjects.
“Oh, at least you’re not in the car,” Aly says but there’s a suspicious glint in her eye. I remember her now. She’s Owen Fast’s girlfriend. Fast was a transfer last semester from a local high school, recruited for the football team because of his superior route running and his sticky hands. I like him a lot—as much as I like any of my teammates. The two of them came up to my car after the game and asked me some dumb questions about a
post-championship. I think Aly might’ve asked me something about what I was hiding in the car. This is not the direction I want the conversation to go.
I clap my hands. “We’re having a party this Friday. Everyone’s invited. Free…” I trail off because I haven’t the first clue what happens at parties. I throw a questioning look toward Waif, who smirks.
“Free drinks. Free food. And a free gift card to Johnny’s Pizzeria for a free single-serving pizza.”
What the fuck? I mouth but Waif ignores me. She folds her hands on her desk, focuses on the whiteboard at the front of the class, and pretends she didn’t just promise a meal to every single dumbass in my school. A smile plays around on the corner of her lips and I can tell she’s trying not to burst out laughing.
If we were keeping score, and we’re not, I would be down by two touchdowns right now. She’s burying me and I don’t even care. There’s something wrong with me, but I don’t know what it is.
Chapter 14
Mallory
I smile at Aly and Owen. They are so adorable together I want to eat them up but I know that’s not acceptable. They are so sweet that it makes me have hope that love still exists. It’s nice to see two people that care for one another. That’s far from the atmosphere that I grew up in. It’s refreshing to see two people in love. Owen hangs on every word that comes out of Aly’s mouth. I don’t blame him. She’s crazy smart and funny too. Not as funny as Owen but it comes easier to him. They both have laid-back attitudes. It feels nice to have friends. It’s different than my old school. No one knows me here or my past. I know it’s soon to call these people friends, but I feel as though Aly and I have a great connection. I could see us becoming good friends.
“I told you to wait for me.” I look up to see Deuce standing over me. I’m sitting in one of the seats in the cafeteria. They are low to the ground so it makes him look taller than he already is. He did tell me to wait for him. I’m not a dog who follows commands. Maybe if he was a little sweeter to me then I would have waited for him. But since he was being his usual asshole self, I decided not to. I’m still amazed that the people around here put up with his crap.
Owen all but told Aly—as I learned he called Ace because she aces everything she does—to stay put when he got to the cafeteria but the way that he said it had even me melting. ‘Babe, sit your cute ass down while I get my woman some food. Hang with your new friend.”
Then he’d kissed her and strolled off. Yeah, if Deuce had done that to me I would have sat there in shock for twenty minutes and then tried to figure out what the hell he was up to. I know I could make things easy for Deuce but it’s fun to defy him. I love when he gets all riled up after I give him the business. I love trying to find different ways to mess with him. He almost makes it too easy for me, which has me thinking I’m not the only one enjoying myself. Sometimes I wonder if he tells me to do something only to watch me do the opposite of whatever he says.
“How’s that bossing me around thing working out for you?” I ask as I drop my gaze from his back down to the table where I am hanging out with Owen and Aly. She didn't believe me about the party and is really fascinated by it. She doesn't seem like the party type but she will be coming this Friday because, in her words, I’ve got to see this.
“Why don’t you have any food?” Deuce asks, not answering my question but asking his own. I shrug. The cafeteria is a little intimidating. Plus why buy food here? I’ll eat when I get back to Deuce’s place where the food will be free. My breakfast sandwich can hold me over even if my stomach is trying to disagree with me at the moment. I never really ate lunch at my old high school. I didn’t love the crowds and sometimes the cafeteria got rowdy. That’s what I used to tell myself anyway to make myself feel better about it. It being not able to afford buying lunch there.
“She can have some of mine.” Aly starts to push her overloaded tray my way that Owen had gotten the two of them. Owen reaches out, stopping her and pulling the tray back in front of his girl. Aly scowls at him for a brief moment, which causes him to smile and kiss her cheek.
“I’ll get her food. You eat.” Owen starts to stand.
“He thinks I don’t eat enough.” Aly rolls her eyes and pushes the tray back in between us. This time it’s Deuce who leans down over me. His body presses into my back as he pushes the tray back to Ace.
“I can get her lunch.” His face is next to mine now with the way he’s bent down. I peer over at him to see he’s looking at Owen. “She is my responsibility.” Those words hit a sensitive spot deep inside me. My mom had uttered the same ones many times while she was putting me down. Letting me know that eighteen is no longer her responsibility and I better remember that. Deuce had to add that little bit of asshole in there. He can’t help himself. For a minute, I thought he was going to do something nice because he was trying to be a decent human being or maybe trying to be my friend but no, he is doing it out of duty. Because everyone believed this made-up story that I am his cousin, his responsibility. I swear I have the urge to punch him. It’s funny how much my emotions fluctuate when I’m around him.
“Then get it.” Owen drops back down in his seat, putting his arm around Aly. He is one of the few who don’t seem intimidated by Carter. I think it’s more lack of care. All of Owen’s focus is on Aly. He doesn’t have time for Carter’s bullshit. That makes two of us. Deuce’s mixed signals are messing with my head. I’m not so sure I’m enjoying these games we are playing with each other anymore. It is starting to become clear I’ll be the one getting hurt. His comment already cut deeper than it should have.
“I’m not hungry,” I say as I stand and begin to gather my things. I shoot Carter a look of death letting him know not to mess with me. I thank Owen and Aly for their good company before I walk away knowing, like always when Carter is near, everyone is watching.
Chapter 15
Carter
She’s mad...again. I’m in a constant state of horniness and she’s in a constant state of pissed-offness. I’m not saying she doesn’t have the right to be upset because I ripped her shirt, made her sleep on the sofa, call her Waif, and then didn’t get her lunch. In my defense, I forgot you had to pay for lunch. It was just...there every day when I went to the caf. I realize this way of thinking makes me out to be a bigger asshole than I am. Or maybe I am that big of an asshole.
I shake my head.
“Stop following me,” she mutters.
“No can do.”
She stomps forward and I follow until she nears the men’s locker room. Then I slam the door open and pull her inside. A pair of dumbasses are bent over the sink snorting something up their noses.
“Out,” I order.
“But our lines…” one of them whines.
I grab Wa—no, Mallory’s—wrist so she can’t escape and cross the room until I reach the sinks. Leaning down, I puff and blow their little mountain of coke into the basin.
“What the fuck, Carter!” screams one punk.
“Dude, this cost like two grand. It’s premium—“
“I don’t fucking care. You don’t do drugs in my locker room.” My rules are strict. No women, no booze, no gambling, no drugs. Those are the things you get suspended over and if you want to win championships, you can’t lose one member on your squad. Everyone has abided by those rules for four years.
“The season is over,” cries the first ass.
As if that matters. “It’s my locker room until I leave this hell hole. Now get the fuck out before I make you sniff the dirt off the shoes of the cleaning crew.”
“What crawled up your ass?” snipes the second punk as he straightens and wipes his finger across his nose.
“If you don’t leave, my size fourteens will be so far up your anal canal, you’ll feel my steel toe in your throat.”
“Just wait until you’re gone. We’re going to do whatever we want in here,” he mumbles, full of white-powdered bravery.
“But I’m not gone, am I?” I say quietly because I�
�m done with their shit and want them out of here so I can talk to Mallory about how that scene back in the caf was a misunderstanding and not done intentionally to humiliate her. These two pencil dicks are getting on my last nerve.
“I think you should go,” Mallory contributes. “I’ve seen him when he’s mad. Not a thing in the house survives. He once took a cat and threw it out a window. It landed on its feet, but can you imagine what a monster he is if he throws animals around?”
The coke-addled students’ jaws drop at this info and they scurry out to spread the news that I’m an animal abuser. If my reputation before was bad, this is surely going to put a nail in my coffin. The minute the door shuts behind them, I turn to Mallory with a dark look on my face. She takes a step back and I approach. We do this little dance until her spine hits the tile wall. I slap a hand next to her face and lean in.
“I don’t have a cat.”
“You could have had one at one time. You seem like the type.” She licks her lips nervously, as if she can’t quite believe she said what she said. Her soft pink tongue darts out to swipe along the plump flesh before disappearing just as quickly as it appeared. I want that tongue in my mouth. I want that tongue on my skin. I want it running over my lip. I want it tracing a path down my neck. I want it leaving a trail down to my dick. I want it on my dick. Fuck. The blood in my head pools in my groin. My jeans grow two sizes too small. I dip down even closer until there’s almost no space between us, needing her to understand a few simple facts.
