by Mariano, Sam
Erika tries to brush it off, muttering about how none of us can take a joke, but no one is amused.
Awkwardness falls over the evening. Cartwright has no idea which side he’s supposed to be on anymore, so he gets out his phone and plays on it to keep from having to commit. Brianna stays near me and looks at make-up, but she offers me an apologetic grimace. I’m not mad at her. Brianna seems mellow; I’m sure she just went along with whatever her friends did and didn’t want to raise a fuss.
I hate the idea of Erika and Carter plotting against me together, though. I’m not jealous of Erika, not at all, but I am aware they were together before, I’m even more aware that she doesn’t like me, and I just hate having that mental image in my head. Were the panties her idea, and Carter just bought them? Did Erika write “slut” in her girly handwriting? Did Carter laugh at the idea of my embarrassment as they drove away?
They’re all dicks. I want to go home.
Without asking, I know Carter won’t let me. I know I could probably force the issue, but it wouldn’t be pleasant, and it probably wouldn’t be worth the fight. Maybe I can text my mom on the sly and ask her to send me an emergency message of some kind to bail me out.
No, what am I saying? She knows I’m with Carter tonight; she won’t help.
Maybe Grace.
If both of those options fail, I can text Pastor James. Hell, if I really need to, I can ask him to come pick me up from Carter’s house. Carter holds a lot of influence in this town, but so does the church. How likely is it Carter will blatantly stop my pastor from giving me a safe ride home?
We all wander quietly to the register, then back out to Carter’s car. It’s not actually his car tonight, he drove a red Escalade from his dad’s dealership since his Mustang isn’t exactly roomy enough for five people. Erika refuses to budge. Her attitude is the loudest thing in the car as Carter drives us away from the store. The only other sound we hear is the rustling of bags when Cartwright proves too hungry to wait for snacks, but other than that, dead silence.
I’m debating telling Carter I’d like for him to take me home when he turns onto Erika’s road. I sit up a little straighter, a little more alert, and sure enough, he coasts to a stop in front of Erika’s house.
After a moment of stunned silence, she demands, “Are you serious?”
“Do I bluff?” Carter asks simply.
Erika laugh-scoffs, looking to her friends for support, clearly expecting them to tell Carter he’s being a little harsh, and he shouldn’t kick her out of the group hang. That does not happen, though. Cartwright’s eyeballs are glued to his cell phone screen and he pretends he doesn’t notice what’s happening. Brianna picks at invisible lint on her jeans.
“Wow, that’s real nice,” Erika mutters, before finally shoving the back door open and climbing out.
“Learn to play nice, or lose your invitation permanently,” Carter tells her.
“Fuck you,” she flings back at him. “Next time your prude girlfriend leaves you hard-up after some heavy petting, you better call Brianna to get you off, not me. Asshole,” she mutters, before slamming the door and storming up to her front door.
My stomach sinks and my heart kicks into overdrive. What the hell does that mean? Has Carter been with Erika since we got together? I guess we’re only sort of together, we haven’t said anything official, but…
It takes a few seconds before I work up the nerve to look over at Carter in the driver’s seat. He’s massaging the bridge of his nose, his eyes closed.
I turn my gaze back to the road and tell myself not to read too much into it, but I feel my investment in Carter Mahoney dropping like a rock. After all the shit he fed me about how men like him only cheat when they’re not afraid to lose the woman, what other conclusion can I possibly draw if he’s sleeping with his ex behind my back? He certainly hasn’t mentioned that to me, and she implied he turned to her after I left him unsatisfied. There has only been one time he got me off and I didn’t return the favor, and at that point in our journey toward a relationship, official or not, I would have expected him not to sleep with anyone else.
Not unless I’m just a conquest, anyway.
“I’d like to go home, too,” I finally tell him, breaking the silence.
“No,” Carter says immediately, dropping his hand and looking over at me.
“I wasn’t asking for permission,” I inform him. “I’m sorry if that was unclear.”
“Zoey, this is exactly what she wanted. Come on, you know that.”
Not a denial.
Since I know his track record of respecting my wishes, I don’t waste this opportunity to get away. There are better witnesses present this time, so he can’t force his will on me.
I push open the passenger door and climb out. I’m not that far from home, I can just walk.
“Jesus Christ,” he mutters, throwing his door open and coming out after me. “I did not sleep with her, Zoey.”
“You’re a minute too late in sayin’ that, Carter.”
“I assumed you were smart enough to see through her bullshit,” he states, coming around the car and grabbing my arm to stop me.
“Don’t do that,” I say, shaking my head. “Don’t act like the only reason to believe what she said is stupidity. What she said was damn specific. That she got you off when I didn’t after some heavy petting. That’s an awfully accurate description of the part of our date that I was there for. That’s a hell of a guess, Carter.”
“Zoey, stop,” he says, putting more muscle into his hold.
I jerk to a stop, so I glare at him over my shoulder. “Let me go, or I’ll scream.”
“Go ahead,” he challenges. “Scream your head off. As soon as the first person out of their house sees it’s you screaming, they’ll go back inside and shut their blinds.”
That is so accurate and so infuriating that I want to slap him. “Go to Hell, Carter.”
While his comeback was clearly meant to hit below the belt, he must not want to fight with me. Instead of lobbing more meanness, he pulls me close and turns me around to face him. “I did not sleep with Erika.”
“She didn’t say you slept with her,” I state. “She said she got you off.”
“She did not get me off,” he assures me, meeting my gaze. “I told you, I’m trying to build your trust, not break it down. You know me. I may be unscrupulous when I’m going after something I want, but I’m not a fucking moron. Why would I squander your trust for a blow job from an ex I don’t care about? What kind of sense would that make, Zoey?”
“Just because it’s stupid doesn’t mean you didn’t do it,” I fire back. “Don’t try to use logic to bail yourself out.”
Carter blinks at me. “I… do not know how to respond to that. What else am I supposed to use?”
“Don’t bullshit me,” I tell him, shoving him in the chest. He doesn’t budge. “If you did anything with her, tell me that right now. Not later after you’ve thought it over, weighed the pros and cons. Now. We weren’t technically official, so I guess… this is a gray area, but it isn’t gray if you lie to me. I will never trust you if I find out you’re lyin’ about this. I won’t date you either. You can terrorize me all you want, I’ll shut you down so fast, my relationship with Jake will look warm and fuzzy.”
Instead of being offended that I’m reaming him, Carter smiles and grabs my shoulders, yanking me into his chest. “Come here, you.”
“Tell me the truth,” I say, refusing to hug him back.
“I am telling you the truth,” he insists, calmly. He keeps one hand secured around me to keep me from escaping his hold and runs the other one up and down my back in a reassuringly tender gesture. “Nothing happened between me and Erika,” he continues. “It’s a coincidence that part of the scenario she tossed out actually happened. You know me. If I had wanted to get off, I would’ve made you do it, not called in a sub.”
I would’ve made you do it shouldn’t reassure me, but it’s so damn true, it’s kind o
f hard to refute. “You promise?” I mutter.
Carter tips my chin up so I have to look into his hypnotically beautiful face. A little piece of me gives under the power of it, but my stubborn brain points out that he knows the effect he has on girls, that he’s probably spent years perfecting the look he’s giving me right now. That enticing glimmer of fond affection dancing in his dark eyes has probably been launched at dozens of girls before me, and each of them probably felt this same tug on all their heartstrings, urging their hearts to leap into his waiting hands.
Only Carter isn’t some handsome prince with gentle, loving hands made of flesh and bone, he’s a predator with talons designed to keep his prey from escaping his powerful grip. How many of those girls who fell into his trap made it out with their hearts intact? Do I really expect I’ll be the first?
His faintly amused words from that very night flit across my mind: “You believe my promises, princess?”
In the present, he caresses my face tenderly, all the affection of a guy who is legitimately invested glimmering in his endless brown eyes. “I promise.”
Chapter 20
Orange flames jump in front of me, the only light in the isolated clearing. We had to trek through woods for so long that I had the passing thought I might be heading to my own murder scene, but then we came upon this clearing, and the guys commenced putting their Boy Scout skills to good use. There’s forest all around us, but not close enough to the fire to pose a danger.
The fire roars taller as Cartwright throws more shit on it. Heat blasts my face, like the singeing heat from an open portal to Hell.
The real portal to Hell is behind me, though. Carter’s strong arms wrapped snugly around my body, me sitting between his legs like I belong here.
He and Brianna are bullshitting. I’m quiet. I’m drunk. That was stupid. I know that was stupid, and I know my chances of escaping with my virginity intact dropped drastically with alcohol consumption, because on a clear stroke of genius, I at some point decided it would be an okay idea to start dating the guy privately voted most likely to date rape. Fabulous. I make fabulous choices.
I giggle into my red Solo cup. My friend Solo doesn’t judge me. She understands. Carter has dark eyes and a damaged soul. I probably won’t be the last smart girl to go dumb for him, especially since he’s getting blow jobs from exes already and we’re barely dating.
I lift my cup and give it a stern look. “Whoa, Solo, way to take it to a depressing place. Let’s take it down a notch.”
Carter leans forward, murmuring in my ear, “Did you just talk to your cup?”
“No?”
Chuckling, he pulls me back against his chest. “You’re drunk.”
“I would never,” I offer with mock outrage.
I should be at home. Or with Grace, assembling baskets for the raffle this weekend. Or doing literally anything other than sitting here with Carter Mahoney in front of a roaring bonfire, consuming alcohol with his jock friends.
I didn’t like the taste of beer, but Carter poured something from a flask into my cup, and it tastes delicious. I thought maybe it was roofie soup and I shouldn’t drink it, but then I remembered Carter has no use for roofie soup because he likes when I fight him.
Kinky bastard.
Why is his brain the way it is?
Why is my cup empty?
I scowl at Solo for letting me down and lean back against Carter’s hard chest. “I’m out.”
“You want more?” he asks.
“Might as well.”
Unexpectedly, Brianna interrupts before he can pour more of whatever he keeps in that flask into my cup. “Why don’t you drink some water? Carter’s flask is deceptive; sometimes you consume a lot more than you realize.”
“Of course she’s also had her lips around your flask,” I mutter. A little louder, I say, “No offense, Brianna. I like you. You’re cool.”
She cracks a smile and pushes up out of her canvas chair. Approaching me, she offers me her hand. “Come on. I have to pee, why don’t you come back to the house with me and we’ll get you some water while we’re there?”
“I will take Zoey back to the house when she’s ready,” Carter states.
“I know,” she says easily. “I’m not tryin’ to steal her from you. I’ll bring her back, I promise.”
I get the feeling she’s trying to save me, and since that means she knows there’s something to save me from, I pull myself through the slog of drunkenness and stumble to my feet. “I’m gonna go with her. I’ll be back.”
Carter’s gaze drops to my hand now in Brianna’s and he cocks an eyebrow at her. “No funny business. That’s mine.”
I snort-laugh, assuming he’s joking. Brianna is a girl, and a girl he has had sexual intimacies with. Real funny, Carter.
“I’ll try to behave myself,” Brianna tells him with a wink, tugging on my hand. “Come on, sweetie.”
It takes forever to get back to the house. When we do, Brianna starts taking care of me like I’m someone who needs taking care of. She gets me some water and opens the fridge to find me a snack. She settles on some strawberries and a hastily made peanut butter sandwich.
“I’m not hungry,” I tell her.
“You need the bread to soak up the alcohol. Are you planning to stay the night, or are you going home?”
“I dunno,” I murmur, grabbing a strawberry and sinking my teeth into it. “Oh, God, so good,” I murmur, taking another bite. Maybe I am hungry. “That’s not how the bread thing works, though,” I add. “If you eat before you go drinking it takes longer to get drunk than you would on an empty stomach, but that’s because the food and alcohol are both competing to be processed, and also the…” I trail off, completely losing my train of thought. “What was I saying?”
Brianna giggles, patting me on the arm as she walks past. “Eat your food, sweetie. I’m gonna go pee.”
While she uses the bathroom, I stand at the counter and devour the food she gave me. I didn’t think I was hungry, but every bite is more magical than the next. I’m just about finished when the sliding door in the kitchen opens and Carter steps inside.
His predatory gaze lands on me immediately. He walks over and stops behind me, securing his arms around my waist and hugging me from behind. “How are you feeling?”
“Super drunk,” I announce. “Brianna made me a sandwich.”
“How wifely of her,” he remarks.
“She’s tryin’ to sober me up.”
“Yes, she is,” he agrees.
“Why do you have an accent?”
Carter pauses. “Excuse me?”
“You live here, but you definitely sound like a Yankee.”
Catching up to my drunk girl stream of thought, he answers, “Ah. I am a Yankee, I suppose. I live here now, but I’m not from Texas originally. This is the state my father does the most business in besides New York, where we lived before, so it made sense to move here when we relocated.”
“When did you relocate?” I ask him.
“When I was 13. My mom needed a change in scenery.” He misses a beat, then adds, “Dad had an affair.”
“Oh. But you look down on men who have affairs,” I remind him.
“Sure do,” he agrees. “Never said I liked my father.”
Sighing, I settle my hands on his arms around my waist and lean back into him. “I really want to like you.”
Nuzzling his face into my neck, he murmurs, “You should. I recommend it.”
“I really don’t want you making me feel stupid and letting other girls blow you.”
“I didn’t. I swear.” He presses his lips against the sensitive skin of my neck, sending shivers of pleasure down my spine. “The only lips I want around my dick are yours.”
Desire pours through me, my normal inhibitions melted away by the alcohol he’s supplied me with all night long. I turn in his arms so I can wind mine around his neck, leaning up on my tiptoes and kissing him. He presses a hand against the small of my back, p
ulling my body closer to his. His mouth easily overpowers mine, turning my tender kiss into something more ravenous. Lust squeezes my insides and a faint moan escapes me when Carter’s hand brushes my ass.
Growling low in his throat, Carter breaks the kiss and pulls back, leaning his forehead against mine and closing his eyes. I sigh happily and lean in to kiss him again, not sober enough to notice he’s trying to slow down, and I’m haplessly inviting him to speed back up. His lips are just so kissable.
“All right, come on,” Carter says, grabbing my hand and pulling me across the kitchen.
“Where are we going?” I ask, following after him.
He opens a door off the kitchen and flips a switch. Then he starts down the stairs. “Hold onto my hand so you don’t fall.”
I am holding onto his hand. I roll my eyes but don’t comment, following him down the stairs and into the basement. We take a right as soon as we get down there. The basement is finished and seems to serve as a second family room. Facing a big screen television, there’s a gray, custom sectional that probably seats a dozen people.
The sight of the television reminds me that we were supposed to be watching a movie. That was the whole reason I agreed to come over, the reason we bought movie snacks.
“We forgot the Twizzlers and Jolly Ranchers upstairs,” I tell him.
“We’re not going to need them,” he assures me.
“Are we going to watch a movie now?”
Carter shakes his head, leading me around the sectional, over to the farthest side. He tugs me close, gives me a kiss, then pushes me back onto the soft surface. I giggle to myself when I land on my back with a thud, then open my eyes when I feel Carter climbing on top of me.
Still feeling languid and operating without running actions through the proper channels of my mind, I smile up at him. “Hi.”
His lips curve up in faint amusement as he looks down at me. “Hi.”
