Too Late

by Colleen Hoover

  "I need to ask a question to get to the fact. You look a little older than most sophomore Spanish students."

  "How old do you think I am?"

  "Twenty-three? Twenty-four?" she says.

  She's not too far off. I'm twenty-five, but she doesn't need to know that. "Twenty-two," I say.

  "Tiene veintidos anos," she says, stating her second fact about me.

  "You cheat," I reply.

  "You have to say that in Spanish if that's one of your facts about me."

  "Usted engana."

  I can tell by the arch in her eyebrow that she wasn't expecting me to know that one in Spanish.

  "That's three for you," she says.

  "You still have one more."

  "Usted es un perro."

  I laugh. "You just accidentally called me a dog."

  She shakes her head. "It wasn't an accident."

  Her phone vibrates, so she pulls it out of her pocket and gives it her full attention. I lean back in my chair and grab my own phone, pretending to do the same. We sit silently while the rest of the class finishes the assignment. I watch out of the corner of my eye as she texts, her thumbs flying quickly over the screen of her phone. She's cute. I like that I'm looking forward to this class now. Three days a week doesn't seem like enough all of a sudden.

  There's roughly fifteen minutes left of class and I'm doing my damnedest to keep myself from staring at her. She hasn't said anything else since she referred to me as a dog. I watch as she doodles into her notebook, not paying attention to a single word the instructor has said. She's either bored out of her mind, or she's somewhere else entirely. I lean forward, attempting to get a better look at what she's writing. I feel nosey, but then again, she did read my text earlier, so I feel justified.

  Her pen is frantically moving over the paper, possibly a result of the energy drink she downed. I read the sentences as she jots them down. They don't make a lick of sense, no matter how many times I read them.

  Trains and buses stole my shoes and now I have to eat raw squid.

  I laugh at the randomness of all the sentences sprawled across her page, and she glances up at me. I meet her gaze and she grins mischievously.

  She looks down at her notebook and taps her pen against it. "I get bored," she whispers. "I don't have a very good attention span."

  I normally have a great attention span, but apparently not while I'm sitting next to her.

  "Sometimes I don't either," I say. I reach across the desk and point at her words. "What is that? A secret code?"

  She shrugs her shoulders and drops her pen, then slides the notebook closer to me. "It's just something stupid I do when I'm bored. I like to see how many random things I can think up without actually thinking. The more they don't make sense, the more I win."

  "The more you win?" I ask, hoping for clarification. This girl is an enigma. "How could you lose if you're the only one playing your game?"

  Her smile disappears and she glances away, staring down at the notebook in front of her. She delicately traces her finger over the letters in one of the words. I wonder what the hell I just said to change her demeanor so drastically and so fast. She picks her pen up and hands it to me, shaking away whatever thoughts just darkened her mind.

  "Try it," she says. "It's highly addictive."

  I take the pen from her hand and find an open spot on her page. "So I just write anything? Whatever comes to mind?"

  "No," she says. "The exact opposite. Try not to think about it. Try not to let anything come to mind. Just write."

  I press the pen to the paper and do exactly what she says. I just write.

  I dropped a can of corn down the laundry shoot, now my mother cries rainbows.

  I lay the pen down, feeling slightly stupid. She covers her mouth to stifle a laugh after she reads it. She turns to a fresh page and writes, You're a natural, then hands me the pen again.

  Thank you. Unicorn juice helps me breathe when I listen to disco.

  She laughs again and takes the pen from my hand just as the professor dismisses class. Everyone throws their books in their bags and slides out of their seats in a hurry.

  Everyone but us. We're both staring down at the page, smiling, not moving.

  She puts her hand on the notebook and slowly shuts it, then slides it down the table and into her backpack. She looks back at me. "Don't get up yet," she says as she stands up.

  "Why not?"

  "Because. You need to sit there while I walk away so you can determine whether or not I really am a fine piece of ass." She winks at me and spins around.

  Oh my god. I bite my knuckles and do exactly what she says, planting my eyes directly on her ass. And just my luck, it's perfect. Every bit of her body is perfect. I sit completely still as I watch her descend the stairs.

  Where the hell did this girl come from? And where the hell has she been all my life? I curse the fact that whatever just happened between us is all that could ever happen. Relationships never begin well with lies. Especially lies like mine.

  She glances over her shoulder before she walks out the door, and I bring my gaze back up to her eyes. I give her a thumbs up. She laughs and disappears out the classroom door.

  I gather my things and attempt to get her out of my head. I need to be on point tonight. There's too much riding on this to be distracted by such a beautiful, perfect ass.

  I finish the day's homework at the library, knowing I won't be able to concentrate once I step foot back in the house. When I first moved in with Asa, I was one night away from being evicted from the couch I was crashing on...not to mention all the other financial issues I dealt with. We had only been dating two months, but I had nowhere else to go.

  That was over two years ago.

  I knew based on the cars he drove and the size of his house that he had money. What I wasn't sure of was whether or not it was old money or if he was involved in something he shouldn't have been involved in. I was hoping it would be the former, but me and hope have never had good results. He hid it pretty well for the first couple of months, excusing his spending habits on the illusion that he had a big inheritance. I believed him for a while. I had no choice but to believe him.

  When people I didn't know began showing up at odd hours of the night, and Asa only spoke to them behind closed doors, it became more and more obvious. He tried to explain his reasoning and swore he only sold "harmless" drugs to people who were going to find it somewhere else anyway. I didn't want any part of it, so when he refused to stop, I left.

  The only problem was, I had nowhere to go. I crashed on a few friends' couches, but none of them had room or money to keep supporting me. I would have resorted to a homeless shelter before going back to Asa, but it wasn't my life I was worried about; it was my little brother's.

  Stephen has never had it easy. He was born with a lot of issues, both mentally and physically. He was receiving state funding for his care and had finally been put in a good home I could trust with him, but when that was cut off, I couldn't risk him being sent back home to my mother. I didn't want him back in that life, and I'd do anything to make sure he wasn't a part of it ever again.

  I was gone all of two weeks when I had no one else to turn to other than Asa. Walking back through his doors and asking for his help was the hardest thing I've ever had to do. It was as if running back into his arms was the equivalent of relinquishing my self-respect. He let me move back in, but not without consequences. Now that he knew exactly how much I had to depend on him, he stopped hiding his lifestyle. More and more people came over, and transactions were out in the open rather than behind closed doors.

  Now, there are constantly so many people in and out of the house that it's difficult to differentiate between the people who live here, the people who crash here, and complete strangers. Every night is a party, and every party is my nightmare.

  Every week that passes, the atmosphere becomes more and more dangerous, and I want out more than ever. I've been working part-time on campus
in the library, but they don't have a student worker position for me this semester. I'm on a waiting list, and I've been applying for other jobs, trying desperately to add to my escape cash. It wouldn't be so hard if it were just myself I had to care for, but with Stephen in the picture, it'll take money that I don't have. Money that I won't have for a while.

  In the meantime, I have to keep up appearances by acting like I still owe my life to Asa, when in reality, I feel like he's ruining it. Don't get me wrong, I do love him. I love who he used to be and who I still see small glimpses of when we're in private. I love who I know he could be again someday, but I'm also not naive. As many promises as he's made me that he's scaling down the business in preparation to get out, I know he won't. I've tried to talk some sense into him, but when you've got the power in your hands and the money in your pocket, it's hard to walk away. He'll never walk away. He'll either do this until he's in prison...or until he's dead. And I don't want to be around for either.

  I don't even try to identify the vehicles in the driveway anymore. Every day there's a new one. I park Asa's car and grab my things, then head inside for another night of hell.

  When I walk inside, the house is eerily quiet. I shut the door behind me and smile, relishing in the fact that everyone's out back at the pool. I never get a chance for solitude, so I take advantage and put in my headphones and begin cleaning. I know it doesn't sound like fun, but for me it's my only chance to escape.

  Not to mention, the house is a constant pigsty.

  I start in the living room and throw away enough beer bottles to fill a thirty-gallon trash bag. When I reach the kitchen and witness the mountain of dishes piled in the sink, I actually smile. This should waste at least an hour. I organize the dirty dishes to the left of the sink and begin filling the basin with water. I begin to sway to the music spilling into my ears from the headphones. I haven't felt so at peace in this house since the first two months I lived here. Back when the good Asa was around.

  As soon as memories of the Asa I fell in love with flood my mind, I feel his arms wrap around me from behind and he begins swaying to the music with me. I smile and keep my eyes closed and wrap my hands in his, then lean back against his chest. He kisses my ear, then laces his fingers with mine and spins me around to face him. When I open my eyes, he's smiling down at me with a genuinely sweet expression. I haven't seen this look in his eyes in so long, it actually makes my heart ache, knowing how much I've missed it.

  Maybe he really is trying. Maybe he's tired of this life, too.

  He takes my face in his hands and kisses me--a long, passionate kiss that I forgot he was even capable of. Lately, the only time I get kissed is when he's on top of me in our bed. I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him back. I kiss him desperately. I kiss the old Asa, not knowing how long I'll have him here with me like this.

  He pulls back and takes the headphones out of my ears.

  "Somebody wants a continuation of this morning, huh?"

  I kiss him again and smile, nodding my head. I do. If this is the Asa I'll get in my bed, I actually do.

  He puts his hands on my shoulders and laughs. "Not in front of the company, Sloan."

  Company?

  I squeeze my eyes shut, scared to turn around, unaware that we were being observed.

  "There's someone I want you to meet," he says. He spins me around and I open one eye, then the other, hoping the shock I feel in my stomach isn't clearly sprawled across my face. Leaning up against the doorframe with his arms folded across his chest and a hard look in his eyes, is all six feet of Carter.

  I gasp, mostly because he's the last person I expected to see here. Standing in front of him now is suddenly more intimidating than sitting next to him in class was this morning. He's a lot taller than I thought--taller than Asa, even. He's not as defined as Asa, but then again, Asa works out every day and, based on the size of his biceps, probably dabbles in steroids. Carter is more naturally built, with a darker complexion and darker hair--and at the moment, very dark, angry eyes.

  "Hey," Carter says, easing his expression with a smile, extending his hand to me without a trace of recognition on his face. I realize he's pretending not to know me for my own benefit--or perhaps for his own benefit, so I return his handshake, introducing myself to him for the second time today.

  "I'm Sloan," I say shakily, hoping he can't feel my racing pulse through the palm of my hand. I cut the handshake short and pull back. "So how do you and Asa know each other?" I'm not sure I want to know the answer, but the question spills out of my mouth anyway.

  Asa puts his arm around my waist and spins me in the other direction, away from Carter. "He's my new business partner, and right now we've got business to conduct. Go clean somewhere else." He pats me on the ass, attempting to shoo me away like a dog. I spin around and scowl at him, but it's not nearly as intense as the hatred spilling out of Carter's eyes as he watches Asa.

  I normally don't push things with Asa, especially in front of other people, but I can't help my temper right now. I'm furious at his cavalier attitude about bringing in someone else, despite the fact that he promised me he was getting out. I also can't deny the fact that I'm pissed that it's Carter. I'm angry at myself for developing a false first impression of him in class today. I thought I was better at reading people, but the fact that he's involved with Asa shows me that I don't know a damn thing about reading people. He's just like the rest of them, but I should expect it by now. As hard as I try--as hard as it was leaving my childhood home in order to get away from this same type of lifestyle, only to end up right back in it--it makes me feel ignorant. How can I crave and work toward a normal life so incredibly bad, yet I keep falling right back in the middle of this shit? It's a damn curse.

  "Asa, you promised." I toss my hand in Carter's direction. "Hiring new people isn't getting out...it's getting in deeper."

  I feel hypocritical asking him to stop doing what he does. Every month I let him send a check for Stephen's care with the same dirty money I wish he wasn't making. But it's easier for me to allow that, since it's not for me. I'd take the dirtiest money there is if it meant my little brother would be taken care of.

  Asa's eyes grow dark and he takes a step toward me. He gently places his hands on my arms and rubs them up and down. He leans his mouth in toward my ear and increases his grip on my arms, squeezing with all his force until I wince from the pain.

  "Don't embarrass me," he whispers quietly enough that only I can hear him. He eases his grip and runs his hands down to my elbows, then kisses me lovingly on the cheek for show. "Go put on that sexy red dress. We're having a party tonight to celebrate."

  He steps back and releases me from his grip completely. I glance at Carter, who's still standing in the doorway, eyeing Asa like he could rip his head off at any second. He cuts his eyes to mine and for a second they grow softer, but I don't hang around long enough to be positive. I turn and run up the stairs to the bedroom. I slam the door and fall onto the bed. The muscles in my arms are throbbing from the pain, so I try to rub it away. It's the first time he's ever physically hurt me in front of someone, but the injury to my pride hurts so much worse. I never should have questioned him in front of someone. I know better.

  But I also know that I don't deserve what he just did to me. No one does. I want to grab my bags and pack everything I own. I want to leave and never come back. I want out. I want out, I want out, I want out.

  But I can't leave. It's not just me who would be affected.

  "Sorry about her," Asa says, turning back to me.

  I unclench my fists and attempt to hide my disdain. I've known him all of three hours, and I've never despised someone more in my entire life.

  "It's all good," I reply. I walk over to the bar and casually ease myself into one of the seats at the table, despite the fact that I want to run upstairs and make sure Sloan's okay. My mind is still reeling from the fact that Sloan is involved in this. She was the last person I expected to run into coming here. Wat
ching Asa kiss her like he did, and watching her respond like she did, made me officially regret taking on this assignment. This just became a hell of a lot more complicated.

  "She live with you?" I ask.

  Asa hands me a beer out of the fridge and I untwist the top, then bring it to my mouth. "Yep," he says. "And I'll cut off your dick if you so much as look at her the wrong way."

  I eye him, but he doesn't skip a beat. He shuts the door to the refrigerator and saunters to his seat on the other side of the bar as though the sentence never even left his mouth. That he can physically hurt her like he just did, then act like he gives a shit about her, has me floored. I want to bust the fucking beer bottle against his head, but instead I grip it harder, keeping my temper in check.

  He opens his beer and raises the bottle. "To money," he says, clinking the bottle against mine.

  "To money." And watching assholes get what they deserve.

  Dalton walks in, interrupting with perfect timing. He looks at me and nods, then turns his attention to Asa. "Hey, man. Jon wants to know what to do about the alcohol situation. Is it BYOB tonight, or are we providing, because we don't have shit."

  Asa slams his beer down on the bar and shoves his chair back, standing up. "I told that asshole to stock up yesterday." Asa storms out of the kitchen.

  Dalton nudges his head toward the front door and I get up and follow him outside. Once we're alone in the middle of the front yard, he turns toward me and takes a swig of his beer, mostly for show. Dalton hates beer.

  "How'd it go? You think you're in?" he asks.

  I shrug. "I guess. He's desperate for someone who can speak Spanish. I told him I was good, but not fluent."

  Dalton gapes at me. "Just like that? No questions asked?" He shakes his head in disbelief. "God, he's such a dumbass. Why do the new ones think they're so untouchable? Fucking pretentious prick."

  "Yep," I say in whole-hearted agreement.

  "I warned you about this job, Luke. It'll fuck with your head having to live like this. You sure you want in on this one?"

  There's no way I can back out now, knowing how close Dalton and the others are to nailing him. "You just called me Luke."

  "Shit." Dalton kicks at the ground with his shoe and looks back up at me. "Sorry, man. We still on to meet tomorrow? Young wants a full report now that you're in."