A Son of Carver (Carver High #2)

by Haven Francis

  She laughs, until she realizes I’m serious. “Really? But why?”

  “I like Carver.”

  She looks completely baffled. “Couldn’t you have gotten an athletic scholarship?”

  “I suppose.”

  She’s staring at me with a shocked look on her face. I suck in a breath and say, “So the prime rib or the sirloin?”

  She finally takes her judgmental eyes off me and looks at the menu. “I don’t really know, I always get the fish or a salad, but my dad usually orders the sirloin.”

  “Sounds good,” I say, shutting my menu and pushing it off to the side. The waitress shows up with our drinks and takes our order. I grab a hold of Hannah’s hand again and tell myself I’m gonna give it a shot with this girl.

  “So why don’t you have a boyfriend? The guys at North aren’t cutting it?”

  She laughs. “I guess. I mean, none of the guys at my school look like you.” She blushes again and bites her lip and I smile without even having to force it. “But I’ve always been really busy with cheer and dance and never really had the time. But now that I know where I’m going to school and the pressure’s off, I can relax a little… enjoy myself.”

  “That’s good,” I tell her. “If you want, I’m pretty good at helping people enjoy themselves.”

  She chokes on her designer water and I have to hold back my laugh. “Not what I meant,” I tell her. “I mean, I suppose it could be at a later date, after we’ve gotten to know each other. But I just meant, you know, I’m a pretty fun guy to hang out with.”

  “Oh my god, I’m so embarrassed,” she tells me, bringing her free hand to her mouth and dabbing away the water. “Of course that’s not what you meant.”

  I smile at her. This is refreshing, being someone new, someone without a past as far as she knows. “You’re cute when you’re embarrassed. I might have to make a habit out of this.”

  “Embarrassing me? Oh my gosh, please don’t. You already make me nervous enough, I don’t want to have to worry about being embarrassed too.”

  “I make you nervous?” I ask her bringing out the full blown panty dropper smile.

  She looks down at the table, then peeks up at me through her lashes and whispers, “Yes. You know you do.”

  “You make me nervous, too,” I tell her although it’s not true. The opposite really – she makes me feel confident and sure of myself because she’s so easy to manipulate. Which, I know, is an asshole thing to think and I’m not trying to manipulate her but she’s so easy to read. Five minutes after meeting her the first time I knew exactly what to say and do to get the reactions I want from her. In fact, it’s like a little game that I’m playing just to keep my self entertained and interested in this date. Fuck.

  “Why would I make you nervous?” she asks, fishing for a compliment, which I’ll give her.

  “You know why. You’re stunning.”

  She rolls her eyes but there’s no conviction behind it, not like Presley’s impressive eye rolls for example. “I am not.” She doesn’t believe that- it’s blatantly obvious. I know her type. People have been telling her every day of her life how beautiful she is. But beautiful people love to have their egos stroked. I should know.

  “Of course you are. I bet you’re the most beautiful girl at your school.”

  She gives me a coy smile and shrugs her shoulders. “Not really.”

  “You don’t have to be so modest. You know you are.”

  The waitress shows up with our food and I’m relieved. I was starting to get a little nauseous there for a second.

  I dig into my steak, making small talk with her as she takes dainty bites of her salmon. She’s not like anyone I’ve dated or been interested in. She’s proper and polite. She’s nice and sweet. She’s boring the hell out of me.

  When dinner’s over, we order coffee and chocolate cake which she takes one small bite of before passing it over to me. I gladly devour it then flag the waitress down for the bill, grateful that I got paid last weekend and trying not to be pissed that I have to blow part of it on this date.

  “We don’t have to pay,” Hannah whispers when she realizes why I’m calling the waitress over. “My dad’s a member… we just put it on his tab.”

  “Seriously?” I ask her.

  “Yeah. I wouldn’t ask you to bring me here expecting you to pay. This place is outrageous,” she says with a smile, and I like her a little more. The waitress does bring over a tab which Hannah signs.

  “You ready to go?” I ask her.

  “I guess we probably should. We’ll have to go out again sometime when it’s not a school night.”

  I help her out of the booth and tell her. “For sure. Summer made it sound like you have a pretty busy schedule.”

  “Yeah, I do. But, we don’t have any competitions this weekend so I’m free on Saturday?”

  We head outside and her car is already waiting for us. The valet guy, who obviously has a huge hard on for her, helps her in. “I have a race on Saturday,” I tell her when we’re both in the car. “If you want to come we can hang out after.”

  Her face lights up. “Yeah, I would really love that.”

  When we pull up to my house, Presley’s mom’s Volvo is still parked outside. “You want to come in?” I ask because it seems like the right thing to do.

  “Um,” she looks up at my house like she’s thinking about it and I panic for a minute but then she says, “I better not. It’s getting pretty late.”

  I’m relieved. “Okay. Next time maybe.”

  “Sure,” she tells me, turning in her seat a little and looking at me with apprehension.

  I reach over and wrap my fingers around her neck, pulling her mouth towards mine. “I had a really good time tonight,” I tell her.

  “Me too,” she whispers right before I take her lips in mine. Her breath hitches and I can feel her lip trembling between mine. It’s a rush. It always is – feeling the way I can affect women. I kiss her thoroughly but don’t linger. Pulling away, I run the pad of my thumb over her mouth and enjoy the drunken look on her face.

  “I’ll see you later.”

  “Bye,” she breaths as I exit the car.

  I walk away, turning once to raise a hand. She’ll be thinking about that kiss for days and when I see her again she’ll be eager. It’s way too easy to turn a good girl into a bad one.

  I open the door and see Presley still in Dad’s recliner looking all at home. Turning a girl that’s bad for me into something good is a little more difficult. I slam the door shut and my dad and brother look at me for a second before turning their attention back to the TV.

  Presley clears her throat uncomfortably, sets down the damn bowl of popcorn that’s in her lap and stands. “I didn’t realize how late it is,” she says, looking at her wrist like there’s a watch there, which there isn’t.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Nick asks her.

  “I should get home.”

  “You don’t gotta leave just because he’s here,” he tells her, glaring at me.

  She finally looks at me for more than a second and says, “Yeah, I do.”

  “Yeah, she does,” I agree. I’m pissed at her. And it’s annoying how she can treat me like an asshole around her friends but then borrow my family for the damn night and play my dad like she’s some sweet, innocent, lost little girl. It’s complete bullshit.

  “What the hell is going on with the two of you?” my dad asks, suddenly standing between us, his head swinging from side to side as he waits for an answer which neither of us are giving him. “Whatever it is, I don’t like it. Nate and I are gonna head out to the garage and the two of you are gonna behave like adults and talk about whatever the hell climbed up your asses.” With that he’s gone and shockingly, my brother follows him.

  I shake my head at this new version of Nick that I don’t recognize, then grab a beer and sit my ass on the couch. “You want to tell me what the hell you did to make him like you so damn much?” I ask, not
looking at her. “Clearly he hasn’t met the uptight, judgmental version of you who’s too good to be hanging around a Carter in public.”

  “I’m sorry,” she says, still standing where my dad left her.

  “Oh, yeah? What are you sorry for?” I ask, staring at her with the force of all my pissed off anger that’s suddenly boiled to the surface.

  She looks at me, her big scared eyes all shiny with tears. “God damn it, Presley. Don’t look at me like that. I’m pissed at you.”

  “I know,” she says, a single tear falling down her cheek which she quickly wipes away.

  “Gah,” I groan, standing and getting to her in one large stride. I wrap her up in my arms and I’m pissed at myself that I can’t stay mad at her no matter what kind of bullshit she pulls. But then her body clings to mine and I don’t really give a shit anymore. I hold her tightly, feeling her body shaking against my chest, her head tucked tightly into my arm. I’ll hold her for as long as she needs me to but I’m not gonna brush this under the rug.

  When her body stops trembling, she pushes out of my hold and steps away from me. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I need you so much. I’m sorry that I can’t seem to look at you without breaking down and crying. I’m sorry that I let you hold me and comfort me and listen to me and make me laugh. I’m sorry that here, with your family, is becoming the first refuge I’ve ever had in this town. I’m sorry that despite all this, I’m too afraid to admit to anyone how much you mean to me.”

  God damn her. How the hell am I supposed to stay mad at this girl? I grab a hold of her hand and lead her to the couch. She sits down and I intentionally sit a few feet away from her. “Have you figured out why that is?” I ask her.

  “Well, yeah. I’m a total coward. And I’m terrified of being alone. Of having nowhere to escape and no one to distract me from my life.”

  I look at her blankly. I don’t really get it.

  “They wouldn’t understand, Nash. They would lose their respect for me. They would think I’ve fallen under your spell. Things would change. And honestly, I can’t handle anymore change.”

  I shake my head at her. “Because you’re willing to be friends with me?”

  She sucks in a breath and runs her hands up and down her face. “You don’t understand what it’s like with them. I mean, Tatum doesn’t hate you or anything but she’s never gonna believe that you’ve changed. And Angel… he seriously doesn’t like you.”

  “The feelings mutual, but I don’t take it personally that you’re in love with guy.”

  “I’m not in love with him,” she says, rolling her eyes.

  “Whatever. You know what I mean.”

  “But he never did anything to you.”

  “And I did something to him?”

  “To Tatum. But besides that, he just thinks you are the epitome of the sexist disrespectful guy and he’s never gonna see what I do. He’s only gonna see what you’ve been to every girl in our school and I don’t know if I could change their minds even if I tired.”

  “And what about me?”

  She cocks her had at me, not understanding.

  “You’re not willing to lose them, but what about me? Are you willing to lose me?”

  She looks down at her hands and takes a deep breath. “I don’t want to lose you.”

  “But…?” I prod.

  “Don’t get mad at me,” she says, peeking up at me.

  “I’ve tried, Presley. I’ve tried really hard to be mad at you but you make it damn near impossible.”

  The corner of her mouth lifts in a smile, but disappears just as quickly. “I don’t want to lose you but I don’t even know if I really have you. I mean, I don’t understand our friendship. I don’t understand if I’m just some pet project to you, or if you’re hanging around me because of this stupid photography class, or if it’s because Nick lets me hang out with you guys, or if I just guilt you into it because I’m always on the brink of disaster. But with Angel and Tatum I know what I have. They’re my friends, the first ones I made here. And we’re friends because we like hanging around each other more than we like hanging around anyone else in this school, and we have the same sense of humor and the same opinions on most things. It’s simple and uncomplicated and we’re friends. Period. But with you… I don’t understand it. And I don’t know if it’s permanent or temporary and clearly you don’t need me like I need you and you have all kinds of people and things in your life and I’m just waiting for you to get bored, or distracted or whatever. So, I mean, if it was a choice, I guess I’d have to choose them.”

  “Just FYI, I’m not an asshole like some other people in your life, so I would never make you choose. And I agree with you – I don’t really understand what’s going on between us. But this is the third time I’ve tried to write you off because you keep doing things that piss me off beyond belief, and I fail every god damn time because, whether I like it or not, I can’t walk away from you. And if you choose to walk away from me I have a feeling that whatever I have with you is still gonna be permanent. For me. There’s never gonna be another Presley Knox in my life.”

  She stares at me for a few moments before letting out a long breath and shaking her head. “I don’t understand you, Nash. I don’t understand why you would want to keep putting up with my crap. I mean, I’m either crying or being a total bitch.”

  “That’s not true. I may not share your sense of humor like your other two b.f.f., but you make me laugh all the time. You’re currently my favorite person to be around and it’s not because I like being abused by you or watching you hurt.”

  “Ugh,” she lets out a frustrated groan. “I just keep messing this friendship up.”

  “Should we start over again?”

  “Third times a charm?”

  “God. Let’s hope so. I’ve never had to work so hard on any relationship. Ever.”

  She laughs. It’s the first time I’ve heard her laugh tonight and I realize I crave it. I crave her smiles and her laughter like a drug that I’m totally addicted to.

  “So what happened tonight? Why aren’t you with Angel?”

  “Because Nash, after what he said… and what I didn’t… I just couldn’t think about anything… but you. I really did come here to apologize.”

  “So you told him you didn’t want to hang out with him because you couldn’t stop thinking about me?”

  She starts chewing on her nail and mumbles, “No. I told him my dad did something to upset my mom and I didn’t think it was a good night for him to meet her.”

  I reach over and pull her fingers out of her mouth and can’t seem to let them go. “Did something else happen?”

  “No. But, I mean, I never told him about the whole divorce thing in the first place so technically I wasn’t lying.”

  I stare at her questioningly. “Why haven’t you told him about that? Doesn’t he want to know why you’ve been so upset since Saturday?”

  “I told him I was sick.”

  “That doesn’t answer my question.”

  She flares her nostrils. “I don’t want him to know how fucked up I am. How messed up my life is. So I choose to not tell him everything.”

  “That’s stupid, Presley. All it will do is bring you guys closer. I mean, besides this whole boyfriend thing, didn’t you just tell me he’s your best friend?”

  She shrugs her shoulders.

  “So it’s not just me that’s the problem? You’re scared he’ll walk away from you if you’re not completely normal and happy? And you’re afraid he’ll leave you if you tell him you’re not comfortable with him touching your body? And me. You’re afraid he’ll leave you if he finds out you’re stupid enough to be friends with me. Jesus, Presley, he sounds like a super great friend. No wonder you’re so scared to lose him.”

  “Or maybe I just want to feel normal. Maybe I just want someone to look at me without pity. Maybe I want to pretend that all this shit in my life isn’t really happening and that I’m comfortable being intimate with him
.”

  “You’ve told me everything and I don’t look at you with pity.”

  “Not usually, but sometimes you look at me like it’s physically painful. Like you can’t stand the words coming out of my mouth.”

  “It is painful sometimes, Presley. Because I want to help you. And you wouldn’t let me. And even now, that you let me help, most of the time I don’t know how to.”

  “I don’t want to need help. I’m not used to needing help. I never needed it before I came here,” she says, sounding completely drained.

  This is becoming a constant struggle – trying to decide if I should say what I want to her, even though it might help her and Angel’s relationship. I mean, I don’t really want to help him get closer to her. But I do want her happy and if he’s the guy she wants then I’m not gonna stand in her way. I’ve done that before and it didn’t really turn out in my favor. “All that shit I said to you before… about him avoiding relationships because they would be too complicated and not rewarding enough… I was probably wrong about that.”

  She lets out a disbelieving bark, but doesn’t comment.

  “He obviously cares about you. I mean, if he was stupid enough to tell me off when he knows damn well I could have kicked his ass if I felt like it, just to defend you, then he wants to be good for you. And if he’s taking all this time away from studying and practicing music to try and hang out with you every god damn night, then you’re obviously more important to him than anything else. If you’re trying to make this work with him then you need to be honest so when you’re acting like a bitch he doesn’t take it personally but understands that you’re dealing with a lot at home. And when you cringe because he put his hands on you, he’ll understand why and go slow with you. And you won’t have to avoid being alone with him because I can guarantee he’s not gonna come up with the reason why that is on his own. If you’re scared to tell him that we’re friends… whatever. Really, that’s a non-issue at this point. But that other shit… it’s serious and you should be comfortable talking to him about it.”

  “You’re right. I know you are. I just feel like this couldn’t have happened at a worse time. And as much as I love who he is as a person, there’s also part of his brain that doesn’t see things like I do… or like you do. Things are black and white to him. He doesn’t have grey. He doesn’t understand grey.”