Aiden moved to lean against his car, arms crossing over his chest. He was a big guy yet looked so small right then. “I’ve been asking myself the same damn thing ever since it happened. I wish I hadn’t said yes, but I needed that damn money. And when Drake wouldn't take it back from me, when I was trying to make amends, I was relieved, Tarryn. The money makes a difference, in my ability to go to college and support my mom and kid brother. I felt dirty keeping it, but damn if I wasn’t happy that he refused.”
“I understand,” I tried to comfort him, moving closer and placing a hand softly on his shoulder.
“You shouldn’t understand,” his gaze bore into me. “I still can’t believe you agreed to go on a date with me. You’re more forgiving than I could ever be.”
“Well,” I swallowed down the lump in my throat, moving my hand from his shoulder and pressing my palm against the side of his face, I poured sincerity into my next words. “I gave Drake a chance, didn’t I? If I can forgive him for the whole devious plot to get into my pants, why can’t I forgive you for the very same thing?”
“Devious plot to get into my pants sounds like an indie punk band.” Aiden cracked a deep wide smile, setting off his dimples.
I dropped my hand, laughing. “Do boys just have this quick flip switch to go from serious conversationalist to tireless jokester?”
“Most of us have exactly that. It’s even labeled ‘use in case of authority’. You know, just in case a teacher comes back into the classroom suddenly and you were playing ball with their educator of the year award.”
“That’s a true story, isn’t it?”
“Maybe.” His eyes twinkled. “Come on, we can at least catch the movie.”
Aiden opened the passenger door for me, and I hopped in, the thin cushioning of the seat doing nothing to keep the inner springs from digging into my butt. When he got in beside me, the whole car seemed to shift sideways, the suspension spongey and old.
“Sorry, she’s not the comfiest ride.” He hooked fingers into the keychain ring tossed on the dash and made quick work of flipping to the right key and shoving it into the ignition. The car sputtered to life. “Reliable though, and that matters when you’re working a few side hustles.”
“I like it,” I leaned forward and patted the dash. “She’s got character.”
He laughed, and I liked how much we were laughing together. It was easy.
As Aiden pulled away from the curb though, I realized there was no thread of attraction under the fun. No sexual tension ribboning through the jokes and smiles.
I liked Aiden. I wanted to be friends with him. But just friends.
And I hoped he’d understand that when I was honest with him later. Because I wouldn’t lead him on; I wasn’t that kind of person. No one deserved to become a Tabitha.
*
“Did you like it?” I tossed my finished soda and half-empty popcorn into the red bin before walking under the blinking exit sign. The door at the front right of the theater led out into open air instead of back into the movie theater. I preferred it that way. One venture through the crimson and gold decorated space of the ticket and concessions area, where every surface reeked of burnt popcorn, artificial butter, sprinkled cheddar and spilled sticky soda, was enough for one night. Enough for a lifetime.
I couldn’t help comparing the smelly, desperately-in-need-of-a-remodel theater experience to the drive-in movie date with Drake. The open air, under the starlight, whispers of different couples floating up to the sky, like soft prayers to God and the fireflies. Even if our spirits had been a little dampened by him sharing his history with Lane. Drake had truly opened up to me that night, shining light on the darkest parts of himself.
Main Street Crowne Cinema had been completely different, and unfortunately as equally unforgettable in all the wrong ways.
We’d lived in River Valley awhile now, but my family wasn’t really big on theaters. Expensive, crowded, smelly. We all preferred waiting for the rental, on the rare occasion we had a Monroe movie night. I’d be sure to warn them to avoid the theater, just in case they ever got the hankering for a date night downtown.
“Possibly the worst heist movie to ever come out of B-rated Hollywood.”
“But it had Cage!” I protested. “I love every single one of his movies, even the laughable ones. There’s just something about him that’s over-the-top loveable.”
“I’m beginning to question your taste in men...” Aiden smirked, dropping his own finished drink and popcorn into the bin.
We hadn’t shared. On real dates, don’t guys and girls always share? It’s a chance to touch hands accidently, feel the bolt of hunger for each other rocket through fingertips... get your imagination flowing over what might come next. An arm over a shoulder. Thighs pressing together, courtesy of the too-narrow seats. We’d kept our distance for the most part. And the one time he’d tried to shift closer, I’d excused myself to the bathroom.
He’d offered to just buy the combo of popcorn and two drinks, but I’d told him I didn’t like butter. Even though I did. I figured it was a nice way of not having to share. But then he’d wanted to close the space between us. There, in the dark, the sounds of other couples around us not really ‘watching’ the movie.
Did he realize this wasn’t a date-date yet? Was I already leading him on, even though I was trying so hard not to?
It was late now, after ten. I shivered; the night air was unexpectedly cool.
Aiden took off the letterman’s jacket he’d put on before going into the theater. I hadn’t been that smart, brining extra warmth with me. Which was dumb. Theaters were always cold.
“Here, take this.” He had such a nice smile. He was such a nice guy. Why couldn’t I like him? What if I just tried, really hard, to like him?
I wanted to like the good guy...
“No, it’s okay. I’m fine. It’s not that cold.” I rubbed my arms unconsciously, then dropped my hands quickly, realizing that I was contradicting my words.
“You’re obviously cold, Tarryn. Take the jacket.” He pushed it towards me, still smiling, but there was another emotion playing across his face. Understanding. “Just take it from a friend to stay warm. Okay?”
From a friend...
“I’m sorry,” I said softly as I took his offering, draping it over my shoulders instead of wearing it properly. It was faster to take off that way, faster to return.
Aiden shrugged, but then smiled, pushing through the obvious disappointment I saw in his eyes. “Things might be different if I’d walked away from Drake that day he asked me to help trick you.”
“Maybe,” I nodded, “but that’s not what happened, and... I can’t change how I feel. Even if I want to.”
And I did want to.
Only I didn’t.
Drake Castleton was the most persistent kind of weed. I could yank him out a million times, and he’d still be rooted in my brain and heart.
“Come on,” Aiden jerked his head towards a building, “I don’t know about you, but I’m still starving. Popcorn is basically a hunger delay not a cure. Swear I could eat ten bags of the stuff and still need actual food.”
“I’m kind of hungry too.”
He started walking and I followed slowly, grateful that he was being so easy going about things. And still a little sad that things couldn’t be different.
But Aiden deserved someone who was all-in. Someone who wanted him in equal measure. Not a girl still hung up on the bad boy who did her wrong.
7.
B Y R O N
C A S T L E T O N
Castleton Industries, River Valley Main Street
[perspective, third]
“I’m warning you, Mother. Change your will or I’ll come at you with everything we’ve got. You’re old. Building a case for mental incompetence would be a goddamn cake walk.”
Byron Castleton pulled at his collar, loosening the tie violently. He’d worked too damn hard to have everything stripped away at the eleventh hour. Hi
s mother was fucking senile; that was the only thing that made sense here. Drake was a child who could barely tie his goddamn shoelaces, let alone run a billion-dollar empire. He didn’t fucking care that the company and family assets would be left in a trust, with himself as the trustee which basically gave him control of everything.
But only for a while.
Only until Drake turned twenty-five and had met the terms of his grandmother’s will. To become self-sufficient, with no history of substance or alcohol abuse. And then Byron would lose it all. Every fucking thing he’d overseen since his father died. If only his father had left everything to him, instead of his mother. But no. Hiram Castleton had possessed one flaw, and that was his unfiltered love for his wife. Birdie could do no wrong in his eyes. So, he’d left everything, every red fucking cent, to her.
And now Byron was suffering the consequences.
Just because he was a disappointment in his mother’s eyes. Because he hadn’t built his own kingdom through blood and sweat like his father had. Because he was having an affair with ‘the help’. Because he couldn’t keep his delinquent son under control.
He’d kept the businesses alive, hadn’t he? The Castleton Empire was a well-oiled machine because of him. Even with his wife bleeding him dry with shopping, cosmetic surgery, and rehab.
He slammed a finger down on the phone, putting it on speaker so he could shove the handheld back against the receiver and lean back in his lux leather chair. His mother’s reedy voice, quiet yet somehow not the least bit frail sounding, streamed out of the speaker system. She was never going to die, that was the crux of the matter. His mother would live onto eternity, having sipped some everlasting water from the goddamn devil’s cup.
“I have warned you, Byron, repeatedly. You feel you’ve worked hard, but everything you believe you own, everything you believe is yours by right, was handed to you by your father, my husband. I was by his side for every fallback, every failure, every employee lay-off. I was by his side for the successes, won by sweat and blood. You were given your position. Regardless of what you think, you neither earned it nor deserve it. That has been made painfully clear over the years since your father’s death.”
“I have been the head of Castleton Industries for almost a decade, Mother. Do not tell me that I haven’t earned controlling interests.” Byron spit the words out, face hot and likely beet red with rage.
“How can you earn something that I am unwilling to give you, Byron?”
“For fuck’s sake, Mother!”
“Your lack of control during this conversation proves my point.” She spoke casually, not the least bit affected by my outburst. He fucking hated her. The old bitch needed to die and just leave the world to be run by younger, smarter people. People like him. “Goodbye, Byron.”
The line went silent.
She’d hung up on him. He angrily swiped the phone and receiver off his desk, not caring that it crashed loudly against the floor. The beauty of sound proofing; it wasn’t just for muffling sounds of sex.
A soft knock sounded at the door and Byron’s eyes flashed up to the clock.
Nina.
Lunch.
And she was expecting an answer about Japan. He’d promised her to look into a position there. And he had. But he hadn’t liked the answers he’d gotten. A contact at an up-and-coming Bitcoin mining company needed someone like her. It was hard to find someone tech savvy enough to talk to clients and run the daily needs of the office. If anything, Nina was overqualified for the job.
But it was in Japan.
Her dream.
And it meant losing her. Or at least losing these daytime lunches. The afternoon delights. The unbridled passion whenever they felt like it. She would be a world away.
“Come in,” Byron called, leaning over and picking up the phone. He plunked it down on the desk and then straightened his shirt, hoping his face wasn’t still red with rage.
Nina walked in, slender body swaying beneath a loose dress gathered at her waist artfully with a wide belt. She was dressed in blush pink, the belt blinking silver. She was as fucking vision, the pink seeming to glow against her beautifully dark skin. He wanted her so badly. Wanted her all the time, not just for sex. He wanted to wake up with her, have his morning coffee while she drank her decaf tea with soy milk.
It dawned on him that he knew everything about Nina, or at least vastly more than he knew about his actual wife who was better more than a ghost in his life.
“Hey,” Nina’s voice was gentle as she surveyed the room and Byron's face. She wasn’t stupid; she knew something had happened and that something was still happening. “What’s going on?”
If she’d been anyone else, Byron Castleton would have bitten her head off and told her to mind her position and not look above her pay grade. But she wasn’t anyone. She was Nina.
“My mother is leaving everything in a trust for Drake. She’s appointing me as temporary trustee.” He fell into the executive chair, it slid back a little way from the desk, squeaking and protesting the unusual roughness of his movements. Byron typically took care of his things, maybe because he was such a failure at taking care of the people in his life. “I’ve worked so hard to keep Castleton healthy since my father’s death. And she’s stripping it all away like my efforts were meaningless. Like I’m not worth my own father’s legacy.”
“She can’t.” Nina’s mouth gaped open; surprise written across her face. Like Byron, she’d assumed that Castleton Industries would be his after Birdie passed away. And then when he was ready to step down, the crown would pass officially to the Drake.
She’d heard enough about Byron’s son to know that he was ill equipped to run a coffee cart, let alone a huge corporation with a sea of shell companies and offshore contracts.
“She’s got to realize that your son is a child. He’s not been to college yet. He’s not taken any interest in the business, not once. And she could die any minute.”
“One could hope...” Byron spoke sarcastically, closing his eyes and leaning back in the chair.
“She’s your mother, Byron. Don't say something like that.” Nina approached the desk, setting the files she carried down on the gleaming wood and then going to Byron. She pulled up her dress, gathering it around her waist and slinging a leg over Byron’s lap. She wanted to comfort him. Wanted him to feel how much she cared about him; how good she knew he could be.
His family made him ugly; they brought out the worst of him.
She could bring out the best.
“There’s a way to fight this, Byron. You’ll have time, as Trustee. And she’s old. I’m sure you could prove that—”
He lifted his hand and pressed his index finger to her full lips, maroon lipstick smearing across his skin. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore. Not right now. My dreams are falling apart, Nina. But yours don’t have to.”
Her eyes widened as she understood what he meant. In truth, she hadn’t expected him to follow through on her request, he never had before. But she could see in his gaze that this time was different.
“I called my contacts in Japan. There’s a place for you at a Bitcoin mining operation. It’s fresh, just getting off the ground, but I know the CEO. I know most of the angel investors. It’s a good bet, and enough salary to afford a safe place and lifestyle.”
“Byron... Really?” Nina’s eyes filled with tears. She’d never imagined, not in a million years, that he’d finally make Japan a reality.
“On one condition,” Bryon tried to keep emotion out of his voice, but he failed, his words cracking. “You get a place with enough room for two. I plan to make a large investment in the company and I’m sure I’ll need to visit once in a while.”
“Who needs enough room for two?” Nina leaned in, pressing her mouth to his and speaking again, her words now muffled by the contact. “The smaller the place is, the cozier we’ll be.”
“God, I wish I could just leave everything and run away with you. I’d go to Japan. I’d h
it my head on everything, but I’d go.” Byron’s lips moved against hers, their warm breaths mingling in a dance of need.
“Then come with me, Byron,” Nina urged. “Geneva is gone more than she’s ever home. When’s the last time you were even... together?”
He didn’t answer her, not immediately.
Nina never asked Byron for details about his marriage, but as the months went by, she realized that she wanted more from him. She wanted more for him. No one understood his pain. No one understood the toll running Castleton Industries took on him. But she saw it. At first maybe they’d just been an office fling. Nina knew that Byron hadn’t loved her at the beginning, that it was only about hot sex and stress release. He’d tried to deny his feelings. For a long time. That much had been painfully obvious.
But things had changed.
He’d looked into Japan for her. He’d found her a job.
And that meant that he would divorce Geneva, didn’t it? The second part of his vow...
“Six months,” he finally sighed. “She comes home in a flash, exits in a fury. She doesn’t even stay to say hello to Drake. And I wonder why he’s such a fuck up? With me for a father and Geneva for a goddamn mother. She’s about as maternal as a female quokka.” Byron laughed at the imagery of Geneva as a fat marsupial with puffy cheeks and a throwing arm.
“Those are the animals that toss their babies at predators to save themselves, aren’t they?”
“Exactly,” he nodded, voice still caught on the end of his laugh.
Nina leaned forward, resting her head against Byron’s shoulder, her face turned into his neck, breathing in the scent of his musky cologne. She started moving her hips without really deciding to, just rocking back and forth mindlessly against Byron’s lap. He was growing hard under the soft repetitive movement, the length of him large and thick and inviting. That brought her to the present, pushed her conscious mind into the feeling of him, so close and yet still so unattainable.
Balls: A Bully Romance (The King of Castleton High Book 4) Page 6
