by Mariano, Sam
I sigh blissfully, caught up in a sexy thought bubble of all the things I want to do to his body, then he lifts his head up just enough to kiss me.
My brain sees where I’m going and makes a valiant effort to stop my mouth from moving, but it gets ignored. When my determined mouth opens, I let crazy, reckless words tumble right out.
“I think I love you.”
My stomach bottoms out even though my tone was light and dreamy, far from a heavy declaration. He’ll still probably take it a weird way. My brain immediately starts generating justifications and excuses. This explosion of hormones and affection has left me vulnerable; the hit of oxytocin makes me feel fonder of him, the flood of dopamine to my brain has clearly impaired my ability to reason. I might as well be on drugs! He can’t hold me responsible for things I say during sex, just like I don’t hold him accountable for things he says during sex—the only difference is that he says mean stuff and I say nice stuff. Besides, I’m a Christian; I love everybody! It doesn’t have to mean anything dramatic…
Instead of getting freaked out, though, Carter grins. “Oh yeah? Damn, I must have fucked you good.”
I smile back with faint relief and nod my head. “So good.”
After a lingering kiss, he tells me, “Spend the night and I’ll do it again.”
Mm, that’s tempting. “I’ll ask my mom,” I tell him. “In any case, could we move this production off the floor? It’s not the most comfortable place in the world. Usually when I’m lyin’ on the floor, I at least have a nice, cushiony yoga mat beneath me.”
“Yeah,” he murmurs, climbing off me. “I’ve gotta go get rid of this stupid fucking condom anyway.”
I offer him another glowing smile. “Thank you.”
Since he gets up first, I allow myself a moment to admire his well-sculpted ass as he walks away. He’s so sexy. I want to say all the nice things to him right now.
I wish I could bottle up these lovey post-orgasm feelings so I can take hits later, when he’s testing my patience.
Oh well, might as well enjoy the dopamine rush while it lasts.
Chapter 33
After a brief text exchange with my mom grants me permission to stay the night, Carter does, in fact, sex me into a stupor again. This time we’re in his bed, and this time he doesn’t bother with a condom, but at least I won one round. I already have an appointment Monday after school to get on birth control, so I’ll ask the doctor for whatever starts working immediately.
Once he’s finished putting me in a blissful pleasure coma, Carter curls his arms around me and pulls my back snugly against his chest, keeping me close.
“Tell me something I don’t know about you,” I request.
“Something you don’t know? Hm. I like rough sex.”
I chuckle, lightly smacking the hand he has settled on my hip. “Very funny.”
“I like blondes,” he offers, playing with a flaxen lock of my hair.
“Carter Mahoney. Something real.”
“I don’t know what you want me to tell you,” he says, being difficult, just because he’s him.
“I’d like to know everything, so feel free to start anywhere—except ‘my favorite color is blue,’ because that doesn’t really tell me anything.”
“Tells you what color lingerie you should invest in,” he offers.
Cocking an eyebrow, I look over my shoulder at him and say sweetly, “Oh, but you’ve already bought me Longhorn blue panties. Remember, baby?”
Sliding me an unamused look, he says, “I’ve never had a pet. How’s that?”
I’ll take that, I suppose. “Really? Why not? Allergies? Just didn’t want one?”
“Until I was 13, we lived in Manhattan. It’s harder to have a dog in the city and my dad doesn’t like cats. Mom said I could get a fish, but that’s a pretty lame pet, don’t you think?”
“I had a fish, actually. A goldfish named Juniper. Unfortunately, it didn’t live for much longer than a year. I wouldn’t mind having fish again as an adult, if I had an actual aquarium with a filtration system and all that. Colorful gravel in the bottom, some of those cute coral things for them to play hide and seek in when I’m trying to find them in the tank.”
Curling his hand around my hip, he says, “See, you even make fish sound like fun. I always imagined it floating in the tank all bug-eyed and getting bored with it in ten minutes.”
I crack a smile. “You probably would. My fish would be my reading buddy. I’d set up a comfy chair in the corner by its aquarium and read it some of my favorite passages. When I’m so tired of studying for classes that I wanna die, I would turn to my fish for moral support. My fish would feel very important, and it would like me a lot more than yours would like you.”
“Without a doubt. You’d probably chop up fucking broccoli to feed it snacks. I might remember to put some fish flakes in its bowl.”
I shake my head. “You’re never allowed to have fish unless we live together or you have hired help, tasked with caring for the fish. Promise me.”
“Aw, come on. Chloe would probably like a fish if it had all that colorful shit in the tank. She’d name it something stupid like Princess Penelope. It’d be great.”
“Chloe would probably take better care of it than you, and she’s five.” Since we’re back on the subject of Chloe, though, I take advantage and guide us back to more important things. “Speaking of Chloe…”
“There it is,” he murmurs, knowing what’s coming.
“What’s the plan?” I ask him. “You’re actually going to set up a bedroom for her at your place.” I pause, rolling onto my back so I can look at him less awkwardly. “So, are you planning for her to move in with you at some point? Is this custody situation with your parents temporary, or permanent? Are they just caring for her while you’re in school, or…?”
Carter sighs heavily, like this weighs on his mind, too. I imagine him losing sleep thinking about it nights when I’m not here. “I don’t know. It’s kind of a mess. The original plan was for them to take her on permanently, full-time. I didn’t want any part of it. But then she was born, y’know? She was a cute little shit, right out of the gate. My mom, she’s the one who insisted on raising her, but she goes through these bouts of depression. When they hit her, sometimes she can’t even get out of bed, and one hit her when Chloe was six weeks old. My sister tried to come over and help as much as she could, but she had her own stuff going on, so I ended up spending a lot of time with Chloe without meaning to. I’d just prop her up on her pillow on my bed while I did homework. She’d chew on her fist and watch me like a cute little creep.”
I grin at the mental image of a baby keeping an eye on Carter.
“Anyway, she grew on me before long. I didn’t worry much about her living situation until moving back to New York for college became a reality. Now it’s something I’ve gotta think about, but it’s not exactly simple. If I move away, she’ll get used to never seeing me. Then my parents will be her only caregivers, and I’ll pretty much… I can never tell her the truth if we do that. She’ll feel like I abandoned her—especially since my parents aren’t exactly the best, temperament-wise. My mom means well, but she’s all fucked up. My dad’s mean. Chloe’s a tough cookie, I know she’d be all right if I left her here, but… I don’t know.”
“You don’t want to leave her here,” I say simply. If his clear affection for her didn’t give me a strong enough vibe, his lowkey attempts to impregnate me and lock down a nanny—I’m certain now that’s his end game, whether he realizes it or not—certainly do.
“I don’t know if it’d be fair to take her though, either. I mean, should I really tell her the truth? I’m her brother, as far as she knows. She wouldn’t have a mother if she went with me. I’d have to make something up to explain why hers isn’t around.”
“The mother, I take it she’s from New York. Does she still live there?”
Smiling faintly, he shakes his head. “Nice try. I told you I didn’t want to talk ab
out that.”
“But then I let you have rapey sex with me. If that doesn’t buy me information, what am I doin’ it for?”
Biting back an even bigger smile, he leans over and gives me a kiss. “My affection.”
“Mm, so high maintenance,” I murmur against his lips.
Tugging my bottom lip into his mouth, he sucks on it for a few seconds, then releases it. Still hovering over me, he tells me, “I didn’t hear you complaining.”
“No complaints here,” I agree. “It could be you’ve broken my brain, but no complaints, all the same.” He burrows into my neck next. I’m already naked from the last round, so when he pushes his hand under the thin cover of his crisp sheets, his palm comes directly into contact with my breast. He cups it, massaging it as he kisses my neck. My eyes drift closed as a shudder of pleasure moves through me.
As tempted as I am to let him pull me under, I resist. Puzzling out Carter’s motivations is a game I feel like I’ll be playing for as long as I keep him around, but right now, I’m fairly certain I need to block my womb.
Pulling back so he knows I want to talk more, I tell him, “Obviously you’re not going to try to ruin my life so you have a babysitter though, because that would be a really shitty thing to do.”
“Obviously,” he offers, lightly, playfully. “I would never do anything shitty.”
“Of course not. You’re an angel.”
“Shiniest halo on the block,” he agrees.
“But just in case you were thinking about doing that, don’t. If you and I are still together when you go off to college, we’ll figure something out. I looked it up and it’s about a 7 hour drive from—hopefully—my college to yours, so I don’t think frequent visits would be a realistic possibility. But if you’re staying in the city once the semester is over, maybe I could come stay with you during breaks from school.” Not wanting him to think I’m banking on us lasting forever, I add, “And that’s obviously a very big if, but I’m just saying. If we still want to be together, we’ll figure out a way. No one has to do anything drastic.”
Dragging the tip of his finger over my curve of my shoulder, he watches my face and asks, “How would you feel about the Chloe situation?”
“I would feel better if you told me everything about it.”
He rolls his eyes. “I know that. I meant, how would you feel about her potentially living with me? That’s a lot to ask of you. I’ve had years to get used to all this, but you haven’t. Probably didn’t think when you started dating me, this would be something you’d have to deal with.”
“No, of all the things I knew I would have to deal with, this certainly wasn’t one,” I admit. “But that’s entirely up to you, don’t factor me into that decision. Do whatever you think is best for you and Chloe. I’m flexible. I can adjust.”
“It’s not a dealbreaker, though?” he asks, for verification.
“No, of course not. Chloe’s adorable and I like kids. It wasn’t my plan, certainly, but it’s definitely not a dealbreaker, either. Still no dealbreakers as far as I can see.”
“Huh,” he murmurs, bending his head so he can brush his lips against mine. “Good.”
Looping my arm around his neck, I tug him even closer. “Very good.”
Chapter 34
I can’t shake the vague sense of dread brought on by the dwindling of my remaining weekend hours. It has been so nice spending my time with Carter and not having to deal with reality. Monday will bring with it the stress of homework, the inevitability of Erika glaring at me in the halls, Jake lurking in the shadows like an irritant that won’t stop, and Grace not knowing what to think or how to respond to my being with Carter. Then after all that, I have to endure the awkwardness of going to get birth control and trying to explain to my doctor that I need the fast-acting stuff because I have an uncontrollable boyfriend… but without setting off any alarm bells that will have her handing me domestic abuse pamphlets I don’t need.
Sunday I have to work, but the bookstore is empty. By the time I’ve finished sorting fiction for clearance and reorganizing the books around the register, I’m bored out of my mind. I already studied my notes on my phone at Carter’s last night, but with nothing else to do, I pull them out and start reading through them again.
“What’s a guy gotta do to get a little service around here?”
I smile at the sound of Carter’s voice and look up, clearing my phone screen and sliding it into the pocket of my jeans as I step toward the counter. “What are you doin’ here, troublemaker?”
“Checking out this hot cashier who works here,” he says, letting his gaze travel over my body. “Don’t tell my girlfriend.”
I play along, asking, “Is she a real ball-buster?”
“She’d kick my ass.”
Bracing my palms on the countertop, I lean in and give him a kiss. “All right, I’ll keep your secret. But only if you don’t tell my boyfriend. He’s fucking crazy.”
Carter chuckles against my lips before murmuring, “Damn right, he is.”
Since I shouldn’t really be kissing him at work, I pull back. There’s really no one around to see anyway. Even the manager went in the back to do paperwork, since no one is coming in to sell any books.
Not seeing Chloe anywhere, I ask, “No cute little sidekick today, huh?”
He shakes his head. “Didn’t think I’d need one this time.” Glancing around the empty aisles of books, he asks, “Has it been this dead all day?”
“Yep. I’ve done every bit of side work that belongs to me, and some that belongs to other people. I’m just watchin’ the minutes tick by at this point.”
“Why don’t you recommend me some books,” he suggests. “Surely a nerd like you has wet dreams about bookstore dates. Let’s squeeze one in since no one’s here.”
Rolling my eyes as I walk around to the outside of the counter, I tell him, “Whatever, you like my nerdy ass.”
Coming up behind me, he grabs my butt. “I sure do. And what was that thing you said to me last night?” he muses.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I didn’t say anything last night. Zero words were spoken by me.”
Playing along, he says, “No, there was something. Something about how you felt about me. An l-word?”
“Get your hands off my butt before you get me fired,” I say, pushing his hand away.
“You’re the only one in the store.”
“The manager is in the back, and we do have cameras.”
Carter glances up at the ceiling, checking to see where the cameras are pointed. “And he’ll fire you because a customer groped you?”
“Probably. This world is a fucked up place,” I tell him, shaking my head. Glancing back at him over my shoulder as I lead him toward the small Beats section where many of the books that make me think of him reside, I inquire, “Have you ever read Bukowski?”
“Nope. Should I have?”
“I have a feeling you might like him,” I tell him, leading him down to the end of the aisle, then squatting down to peruse the limited selection. “Tales of Ordinary Madness makes me think of you,” I add, pulling our single copy from the shelf. It’s a weathered copy with aged pages, but that’s okay. Handing it to Carter, I explain, “His writing style isn’t for everyone, but if you can get into it, my hunch is you might enjoy his stuff. I’m gonna be really basic here for a minute, but I also think you’d like Catcher in the Rye if you haven’t read it already.”
“If it hasn’t been assigned in class, I haven’t read it.”
“That has been assigned.”
“If it has been assigned in class, I also might not have read it,” he amends.
I shake my head disapprovingly. “You can’t rally girl your way through law school, you know? Someday you might actually have to do your own work.”
“Nah, doing all the work is for plebs. I’m a delegator,” he tells me, only half-joking.
“What’s your plan when you leave high school? Bang all yo
ur professors?”
“Only the lady professors.”
I wrinkle my nose up and turn to smack him in the abdomen. He smiles like a rogue, not even grunting from the impact. “This is why we’re getting divorced.”
“Because I’m charming?” he asks, innocently.
“Because you’re a rule-flouting whore,” I inform him. Turning on my heel, I lead him back through fiction toward Salinger. “Franny and Zooey is good, too. So is Nine Stories, actually. I bet you’d like Salinger.”
“Man, you jump tracks like a ninja.”
“My brain is sharp from all those years of doing my own work,” I tell him sweetly over my shoulder.
“Work smarter, not harder,” he offers back.
I shake my head, stopping and running my fingers down spines until I find what I’m looking for. “I have a hunch the real world is going to be quite an adjustment for you.”
He turns to watch me peruse the shelves, shoving his hands into his pockets. “And I have a feeling you’re the one who will be disillusioned, not me. You and I don’t have the same ‘real world,’ princess. Haven’t you figured that out by now?”
I drop my hand, momentarily abandoning my search. “That’s only because we’re in high school and you get to be Mr. Popularity. After high school is over—”
“After high school is over, I’ll be Mr. Whatever I Have to be Next,” he interrupts, looking almost sympathetic. “The world’s not gonna change, Zo. What, you think we’ll swap positions of power? After graduation, you’ll be on top just because you work harder? Because you deserve it more? Because you’re a better person? It doesn’t mean anything, babe. I mean, it does to you, it’s who you are, but that’s not the world. I’ll be on top long after high school has ended. Not because I’ll deserve it any more then than I do now, but because I’ll bring the right tool box. That’s it. It’s that simple.”