by Nikki Wild
I shook my head in amusement as she leaned forward, counting off of her fingers.
“(1) Dude’s a Marine. Or was. Either way, it’s awesome, and he’s still a total hottie. (2) That English accent. It’s to die for, really. He sounds so dignified! (3) He didn’t try to take advantage of you. I can’t really stress that one enough. How often does that happen these days? Borderline never.”
“You’re trying to hook us up, aren’t you?” I asked coyly. “Natalie, I just met the guy.”
“Hey, all I’m saying is you need someone to help you get over that total jerk-stain of an ex. Why not some big sexy arrogant marine?”
“Lets not talk about Jeremy.”
“Of course I’m going to talk about Jeremy,” she said. “This guy’s, like, the total opposite of him. Total dreamboat, with the whole consent thing down. You should go after him.”
“Jeremy didn’t do anything without consent.”
“No, but I think psychological coercion is sort of a gray area when it comes to the whole ‘consent’ thing… and this guy? He seemed to be pretty legit when the opportunity to take advantage rolled his way.”
“Well… it’s true that I can’t remember the last time you’ve ever really approved of anyone I’ve been with,” I thought aloud.
“Clara, this might come as a surprise, but you have really shitty taste in guys. When the good ones come around, you’re never interested! I just think you should give that guy a shot. You never know what’ll come of it, right?”
“I’m going to remind you, potential axe murderer.” It was supposed to be halfway serious, but my widening grin totally ruined it.
“Look, you can’t keep a straight face. But anyway. You’re already late. Think about it! Text that guy when you’re back, alright? If he’s a total tool, then no love lost, but he already plugged his number into your phone and everything.”
Oh yeah. I forgot about that.
“Alright, alright, fine. I’ll text him when I come back and thank him for his gentlemanly ways.”
“There you go, girl!” Natalie cheered. “Now get out there and get this stupid family thing over with so that you can move on with your life!”
The huge, stupid smile stayed smack across my face as I walked down the hall, took the elevator to the lobby, crossed over to the parking garage elevator, and wandered towards my car.
As I left the city, I put Tove Lo’s album on and headed down the interstate. Ever mindful of the time, I went roughly ten over the limit most of the way – keeping my eyes peeled for any parked squad cars and speed traps along the side.
Luckily, fortune favored me today. My haphazard driving made me barely able to arrive in time for lunch. As I arrived, my eyes fell upon two unfamiliar vehicles outside Mom’s house – an expensive gas-guzzler of a truck, and a worn but highly serviceable motorcycle.
I reasoned that the younger one probably had the motorcycle. Oh good. Not only is the kid old enough to drive… he’s old enough to be comfortable on a motorcycle.
Mom stepped outside to greet me as I parked beside the other vehicles. She met me at the front patio, drawing me into another one of her warm, loving, but mildly suffocating embraces.
“Hello, dear! It’s been so long! I’m so happy to see you again,” she cooed, holding me at arm’s length after the hug to scrutinize my appearance. “Are you eating properly? You look like you’ve lost weight!”
“I’ve been eating a little better, yeah. The banquet serving job keeps me running ragged too, so there’s that…”
“Well, we need to put some more meat on those bones!” Mom chortled happily.
I didn’t have the heart to tell her that I’d been coming back from an eating disorder I’d developed while at home. Mom, who was naturally a wider woman, had always been obsessed with my appearance. She looked down on “skinny bitches” and liked to keep me “fattened up”.
Oh yeah.
It took a few therapy sessions to fix that.
“So, where are they?” I politely redirected the topic as I followed her inside. “Have you killed them already?”
“Oh, heavens no!” Mom chuckled haughtily. “They’re both in the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on lunch.”
“They both cook?” I grinned slyly. “Sounds like a dream come true for you. Two grown men, taking care of all your meals…”
“For a Brit, William knows his way around a spice rack, that’s for sure.”
I was about to comment on that coincidence when we turned the corner into the kitchen… and my heart practically stopped on the spot.
Oh no. This CAN’T be happening.
The two gentlemen had their backs to me, but turned when we came into the room. I recognized the younger one instantly, and a faint look of surprise flickered across his face as he took me in.
His father was the first to say something.
“Clara! I’m William. It’s great to finally meet you!” The older man exclaimed cheerily. He was the spitting image of his son, but with light gray fringing his hair and a pair of horn-rimmed glasses over his eyes.
“Hi, William,” I responded as politely as I could muster. My eyes immediately slid to the other one, though.
How. How is this happening?
“And allow me to introduce my son, Dalton.” He motioned towards the marine from last night, who stepped forward to reach out his hand.
“Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Clara,” Dalton smiled warmly. “I’ve heard good things about you.”
Temporarily rendered speechless, I hastily swallowed as I shook his hand.
“Yes… you too.”
“Oh?” Mom asked, taking interest in this. “Are you familiar with Dalton? I don’t remember ever saying anything about him to you on the phone…”
Shit.
“Yeah, Mom, you totally did,” I nervously insisted. “You mentioned something about him being in the Marines, right?”
“No, don’t believe so,” she shook her head. “Hell, I didn’t even know about the Marines until a few days ago, isn’t that right, Will?”
William shrugged. “I can’t remember how long ago that was. A week? Two? A month? Regardless, it doesn’t particularly matter, does it now?”
Mom pursed her lips but conceded the point. She had a bulletproof memory, and hated to not be completely correct. That’s why, when she answered, “No, I suppose not,” she turned to me with a curious look.
“Anyway, why don’t you two sit down and acquaint yourselves, hmm?” William gestured towards the hall. “Go get seated. Sarah and I will wrap up things here, yeah?”
“Sounds good, Father,” Dalton nodded cordially before disappearing into the hallway.
Confused and alarmed, I followed him out of their sight, cornering him as soon as we arrived at the dining room.
“What the hell? Is this some kind of sick joke?” I demanded, halfway accusing him.
“Kind of what I was beginning to wonder,” he replied apathetically. “I mean, what are the odds? We run into each other last night, you want me to fuck your brains out, and now we’re sitting across the table from one another as our parents prepare to tell us all about how they met…”
“I was not going to fuck your brains out,” I snapped quietly, thinking back to Natalie’s words.
“You said about that much.”
“I was drunk.”
“And that’s why I didn’t bring you home with me,” he replied casually. “There’s no way you could have consented in your state. You got yourself plastered last night. Off of one drink! One!”
“The bartenders suck at that bar,” I groaned. “The guy probably fucked up the alcohol ratios and handed me the strongest long island in history.”
“Which somehow evaded your notice…?”
“I was tired.”
“Tired,” he scoffed, summing me up with a glance. “You were tired. That’s what you’re going with? Look, I understand that you’re upset about this, but–”
Dalton lowered his voice and took his seat as we heard footsteps. After a moment, our parents came into the room, setting various pots and dishes down on the placemats.
“Why don’t you sit down, Clara?” Mom asked politely. “We’ll be back in a moment.”
I did as I was told, and the two of them disappeared back to bring out more food. The moment that they were gone, I rounded my furious gaze back to Dalton.
“I’m just weirded out,” I hissed. “This is obviously a sign that we weren’t meant to happen.”
“What do you mean, ‘weren’t meant to happen?’” Dalton asked, looking just slightly bothered by my wording. “You know, we saw each other before we knew about any of this. I don’t necessarily see that as being wrong.”
“Are you being serious right now?” I asked with mild disgust. “You can’t be being serious. Not at all.”
“Look, we can talk about this later,” he remarked. “They’ll be back in a second.”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” I insisted, crossing my arms. “We almost had sex, but we didn’t, and now our parents have revealed to us that they’re dating. Case closed.”
A look of anger flashed across Dalton’s face. He was opening his mouth to retort when Mom and William popped back into the room, setting the last few pots down and taking their seats with us.
“Alright, kids, dig in!” William chuckled, rubbing his hands together. Sarah complimented the men on the food, and Dalton flashed me a knowing look.
And so begun the most awkward lunch of my entire fucking life.
Five
After that rollercoaster of a weekend, I was grateful to have a solid distraction. However, I couldn’t help but feel personally cheated and slighted by the cruelty of fate.
If we’d just fucked and I’d gotten it out of my system and cast her aside, it’d probably have been completely different.
Well, it would have been a bit weirder than usual since I’d see her at family reunions, but it would have still gotten her out of my system. I wasn’t used to mentally marking a sexual target and having the opportunity ripped from my clutches on a technicality.
I had begun to think that Clara had a point.
She was determined to nip whatever we might have had in the bud. I couldn’t help but admit that us having something while our parents had something was a bit… strange. I knew it wasn’t incest because we weren’t related, but Clara clearly thought along those lines, and maybe she wasn’t wrong to shut everything down before it started.
However…
I always hated to turn down a challenge.
All of this had to go on the backburner for the moment, though. Just one day later, before I was ready, Monday morning was here. That meant something that I’d been putting off for over eight years now.
School.
You might have gotten the impression, correctly, that college was kind of a complete afterthought to me. As a Marine with eight years of service under his belt and a massive inheritance on the way, I wasn’t particularly interested in giving even more of my life away.
There was one slight problem with that…
And it was named Raleigh and Riana Carlyle.
My elderly, posh grandparents were the rightful wielders of the Carlyle Fortune. After they skipped my father and lost their daughter, I was the only remaining heir to the bloodline. They only had a few rules, but their firm expectations were airtight:
1. Never disgrace the family.
2. Earn a place of societal standing.
3. Obtain a dignified higher education.
I wasn’t interested in kissing ass up the societal chain, so I discussed the option of joining the active military of my resident country. To my favor, I had several dignified ancestors who had served as officers in the British Army, and my grandparents were surprisingly lax in caring which country I served, so long as it was a “relevant” one.
Of course, I didn’t do it just to get their money, even if we are talking about a fiendishly large quantity of it. There were a lot of overlapping factors involved in that decision.
For one, I did it for me. I wanted the discipline, the prestige, and to essentially drown in pussy for the rest of my life. Call me selfish, because it’s true, but I’m a particularly forward thinking brand of selfish.
Secondly, I wanted to make an effort to please my father, who was perpetually afraid of me following in the footsteps of his former life. At the bare minimum, I knew he’d be pretty fucking proud of me.
Finally, by being smart about my expenses for eight years, I walked out of the service with over $150,000 in cold, hard cash. It meant significantly less beer than I would have liked, but it also meant I had options.
After all, if fate intervened and the Carlyle Fortune was ripped from my hands, like my father before me, it left me in a reasonably good financial position without it.
I could still buy a house or travel the world with well over a hundred thousand dollars.
So far, my grandparents loved me. I never felt pressured under their expectations, particularly since it wasn’t difficult to keep my sexual exploits away from their ears. That’s pretty much the only thing I could think of that might jeopardize my claim, since they were apparently the biggest fucking prudes on the planet.
However, I wasn’t exactly interested in scrimping on the sex for years, especially without the inheritance being a done deal.
Despite not particularly giving a rat’s ass about the degree, that didn’t mean I wasn’t going to at least try. I was actually looking forward to the next step on my quest for the Carlyle Fortune when I walked into my first class of the semester, Psychology 1001.
I was just in time, and I spotted an empty seat up in the small, stadium-style seating. Unfortunately, I didn’t even get two minutes of peace before I realized that fate was going to be a prissy little bitch after all.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I grunted to myself when I glanced down and saw Clara a few rows below me, tentatively awaiting the professor’s appearance.
What is it with this goddamn girl?
Clara had been everywhere I’d turned since the beginning of the weekend. Everything from the Marine banquet, to the bar afterwards, to Father’s little family get-together…
I realized the seat next to her was available, and a sly smile crossed my lips.
Fine. Challenge accepted.
Narrowly, I squeezed into the seat before some other guy could snag it. Clara quickly glanced up, her breath catching in her throat.
“Hullo, love,” I grinned knowingly.
“What. The. Fuck.” She trembled. “Are you, like, actually stalking me now? Why can’t I fucking get away from you?”
“Yes, you’re absolutely right,” I conceded mockingly. “I specifically called you in to work my banquet, trailed you to the bar, hooked our parents up, and somehow got your schedule and put myself in your class.”
“Ugh. Actually, that last one is me,” Clara sighed. “I transferred into Psych at the last second. I wasn’t on the attendance until this morning.”
“See? It’s destiny,” I told her.
“Destiny?” She looked at me like I was crazy.
“Of course! Either you and I are the butt of some cruel, cosmic joke… or something really wants us to give each other a chance. You can’t deny that this is pretty bizarre.”
“The only bizarre thing about this is that our parents are dating,” she spat out in a hushed tone.
“So you’re fine with us, then,” I countered without skipping a beat. “It’s just our parents that are the problem. Good to know.”
“No, that’s not what I said at all,” she insisted.
“You said, and I quote, the only bizarre thing about this is that–”
“I know what I said.”
I smiled, watching her grow more flustered by the second. Clara shook her head at me, the very picture of exasperation; valiantly, she tried and failed to hide a faint smile, hinted at the corner
of her lips.
At that moment, the profession stepped into the room. A thin, gaunt figure with thick, snow-white hair and a matching, magnificent beard, he set down his briefcase on the podium and glanced up at us through thick, black-rimmed spectacles.
“Good morning, students, and welcome to Psychology 1001. My name is Doctor Thaddeus Pritchard. You may call me Professor Pritchard or Doctor Pritchard; either will do. Now then, I’ll be guiding those of you here next week for the following several months. Please pull out your textbooks and flip to page 108 while I call roll…”
“Shit,” Clara whispered. “I totally forgot to pick one up.”
“No need,” I replied casually, pulling out a thick, heavy copy of The Realm Inside: A Beginner’s Psychology Guide. “We can share this for the moment.”
She bit her lip and raised an eyebrow, but couldn’t overlook that this book was, used, still over a hundred bucks. “Just for today.”
“Oh, of course,” I shrugged. “Just today. You’ll get your own copy after that, assuming you stick out the class, that is.” I let my slight smile carry the tone as I challenged her. “I hear this guy’s kind of tough, after all. You might not hack it.”
“Is that so?” Clara replied, slipping a few strands of hair behind her ear. She was watching me with an eyebrow raised. “We’re assuming, of course, that you won’t be intimidated by him either. A guy like that looks like he belongs behind a podium at Harvard, not here.”
The professor smacked something loud against the podium, drawing our attention.
“I’m sorry, is your flirtation more important than my class? If that’s the case, feel free to excuse yourselves,” Doctor Pritchard airily cut in.
“Apologies, Professor,” I replied with dignity. “I was merely offering to help a fresh transfer with reading materials for today.”
“English, hmm?” Doctor Pritchard observed keenly. He adjusted his glasses against his nose and peered towards me. “What part of England are you from?”
I was surprised by his sudden interest.
“Uh, South London.”
“I see,” he murmured. “Interesting. I spent a decade teaching in London. Awful food, too much drinking, but it was, overall, a pleasant experience.” He turned to Clara, who seemed amused by this assessment. “Is it true that you joined in the last twenty-four hours?”