A Son of Carver (Carver High #2) (18 page)

“I think you still need a little time to decide if you want to be someone’s boyfriend.”

“I don’t want to be someone’s boyfriend. I want to be your boyfriend. But I’ll wait, as long as you need me to. But say the word and I’m all yours. Because I’m pretty sure I like this boyfriend thing. And I’m pretty sure I’ll be the best one you’ve ever had.”

“I don’t really think there’s a ranking system for that.”

He cocks his head at me.

“I mean, I don’t actually think you can be the best boyfriend or win an award or anything.”
Damn Nash and his stupid theories.

“Well if there was, I’d make damn sure it was mine. I’m pretty good at winning awards.”

“I know you are,” I tell him, my voice unintentionally tinged with annoyance.

He doesn’t seem to notice though. “So prep me for tonight – what do I gotta do to make your mom like me?” he says at the same time that my phone vibrates in my pocket. I pull it out and see a text from my mom asking if I’ll be home tonight, preceded by another text with a picture of Wonder Woman.

What the hell?

It’s not until I actually open it that I realize the Wonder Woman text is from Nash. And Angel is all up in my personal space.

Remind you of anyone? If you were to paint this body, would you be disgusted?

“What the hell does that mean?” Angel asks.

I glance over at Nash who’s busy talking to Reggie Norris and not paying me any attention. I glance at the text, seeing that it was sent this morning during first period when my phone was shoved in my backpack. I close it down and shove it back in my pocket.

“Seriously, Presley, what the hell is that about? He’s asking you if you want to paint her body? Is he picturing some sick threesome or… what the hell is that? I seriously can’t even dumb myself down enough to figure out what the hell he’s trying to accomplish there.”

“I don’t know,” I tell him, but of course I do. He’s suggesting that I have the same figure as seventies sex icon Lynda Carter and that her body is obviously not gross, and therefore mine isn’t either. It’s not a come on and he’s not being a pig. He’s actually trying to help Angel out in a weird way. But what am I supposed to say to Angel?
Last night, while lying in my bed, we had a conversation about how uncomfortable I am with you touching my body and so he’s just trying to convince me that girls with large breasts and big asses are actually attractive.

“Just ignore him,” I mutter, guilt flowing fluidly through me.

“Trust me, I’m trying. But between him putting his hands all over you and sending you creepy texts, it’s a little difficult. Are you gonna reply to that nonsense?”

Oh, Jesus.
“Let it go, Angel.” In an attempt to derail this conversation, I say loudly to Tatum, “How are the college applications going?”

I hear Angel let out a frustrated breath but he doesn’t say anything.

Tatum shrugs her shoulders and looks at Brandon. “I’m working on it.”

“She’s gonna get in,” Brandon tells me with a huge smile, leaning over to kiss Tatum on the cheek. “Did you show Presley the essay?”

“Essay?” I ask her, excited because she seems to be taking the college thing seriously and if I know her, she can get anything if she wants it bad enough.

“It’s so good,” Brandon informs me. “And the reference letters from her teachers are pouring in. She’s got this on lock down.”

I reach over and grab her hand, excited for her. “That’s so great, Tatum. I’m seriously so excited that you’re getting out of here.”

“Don’t get too excited. I haven’t been accepted yet and it’s still a long shot.”

“But she’s coming, either way,” Brandon tells me.

She rolls her eyes. “I don’t know what I’m doing yet.”

He rolls his eyes back at her. “Yes, you do.”

I know where this is going, so I turn back to Angel to avoid watching the make out session, but he’s not there. Seconds later my eyes find him just outside the cafeteria, pushing his hands into Nash’s chest.
Oh, fuck.

I’m out of my seat and running towards them before I can even think. When I get close I can hear Angel telling him, “It’s bad enough that she’s stuck in that class with you, you don’t need to go out of your way to make her uncomfortable by putting your damn hands on her. I don’t know what effect your creepy texts have on other girls but you’re freaking her the hell out and you seriously need to knock that shit off.”

“Angel,” I scold when I reach them. “What the hell are you doing?”

He runs his hands through his hair. “I’m sorry, I know you can handle him but seriously asshole,” he says, his eyes back on Nash, “stop trying to fuck with her head and keep your damn hands off her.”

Oh god, this is such a mess.
I stand frozen, waiting for Nash to respond, but he just stands there, looking Angel in the eye, his hands shoved in his pockets, I’m sure to keep from knocking him out.

He turns to me and I can see the hurt on his face and it kills me. “I didn’t realize I was offending you. I’m sorry if anything I’ve said, or any texts I’ve sent, have upset you… that obviously wasn’t what I was trying to do.”

I stare back at him, trying to tell him with my eyes that he’s obviously not offending me… that Angel doesn’t understand our friendship. But with Angel standing next to me all I can say is, “It’s okay.”

He narrows his eyes at me for a moment, then slowly nods his head. “Next time you have a problem with me, you can just let me know. You don’t need to send your boyfriend to
put me in my place.
”

“Nash,” I mutter. I don’t know what else to say.

“What?”

I look between him and Angel and all I can do is shake my head. Nash turns and walks away and I don’t watch him go.

“Hey,” Summer says, her big brown eyes looking at me with sadness, like she feels sorry for me. “I saw that little confrontation during lunch. You want to talk about it?”

Here, in Mrs. Harbor’s poetry class, is really the only time I talk to Summer in school. As smart as she is, English is not her strong suit, so she put off her required class just like I did and we’re the only seniors in the room.

“Not really. The kid’s a total idiot. There’s not much more to say.”

“Are you gonna tell me what happened?”

I let out a long, frustrated breath, trying to send some of my anger out with it. I’m pissed. I’m pissed at Angel, but more than that I’m pissed at Presley.

“She doesn’t want him or Tatum to know that we’re… getting along. Pretty sure she tells them both that she still hates me. So, when her man saw me with my arm around her and the text that, for some stupid reason, she showed him, he felt the need to threaten me.” I laugh at that. The kid is such a fucking joke. He’s lucky he’s so scrawny – if he had another twenty pounds on him I would have kicked his ass but as it is, I would have looked pathetic taking advantage of such an unworthy opponent.

“What text?” Summer asks.

I shake my head. “It was nothing.” I don’t want to talk about this shit. Not even with her.

“Nash,” she says, disappointed.

Reluctantly, I pull out my phone and show her the text I sent this morning that Presley never replied to. I can feel Summer staring at me and can only assume she looks confused but then she says, “This is sweet. I mean, assuming you sent it to her in an attempt to show her that she has a beautiful body that she doesn’t need to be embarrassed of.”

I look at her with mild shock.

She smiles at me. “You’re not the only one who’s friends with her and understands her. I know how she feels about herself.”

For some reason, I’m a little hurt that Presley talks about this stuff with someone besides me. I had convinced myself that I’m the only one she really opens up to.

But then Summer says, “I mean, she hasn’t exactly told me, but that day she came over and I helped her get ready to go to your house it was pretty obvious. I actually felt bad. She was clearly uncomfortable in my clothes- especially when I made her put that tight sweater on- and I shouldn’t have convinced her to wear them… I just thought it would help the two of you get along better.”

I smile at her now. I can just picture that little argument going down. But it’s hard to say no to Summer. “Did I ever thank you for that?”

“No. You didn’t. But it helped, right? I mean, she opened up to you that night.”

“Yeah… that was the first night we really talked. It was the first time I really thought that I could get her to change her mind about me.”

“And she has changed her mind,” she says brightly.

“I thought so, but what the hell does it even matter if the only time she’s gonna be herself around me is when we’re alone. It fucks with my head. I don’t even want to know the shit she says to those two about me. And then I gotta deal with that prick talking to me like I’m treating her wrong and putting my hands on her when she doesn’t want me to. And I know that ain’t true because I’m the one she talks to. I’m the one who knows how she really feels. And I know she’d much rather have my hands on her than his.”

“Whoa,” Summer says, “what are you talking about exactly?”

I shake my head at her. “Not what you’re thinking. I’m not trying to put my hands on her like that. Angel’s the asshole who’s doing that. And it wigs her the hell out and she tells me all of this. I’m the asshole that holds her when she cries, tries to convince her that she’s the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen and then when
he
calls me out on it she’s got nothing to say. Just lets him believe I’m some creepy asshole trying to take advantage of her.”

Summer puts a supportive hand on my shoulder and tells me, “Maybe it’s time to let her go. That part of her, I mean.”

I pinch my eyes closed. She’s right. I know she’s right. And it’s pretty much the only thought occupying my head since lunch. This isn’t healthy for me and I’m letting myself care way too damn much about her. No matter what she acts like when we’re alone, I’m never gonna get anywhere with her because she’s embarrassed… ashamed… of what we have going on. Which in her head is a friendship, meanwhile I’m totally falling in love with the girl.

“You’re right. I don’t even know why I’m letting myself waste so much time and energy on her anyway. She’s not the only girl in the world.”

“No. She’s not,” she says tentatively.

I look at her, questioning her tone.

“Hannah keeps asking about you. She really likes you, Nash and she’s a sweet girl. I think she could be good for you.”

Summer set me up with her friend from dance school a while ago. She was hot and we got along just fine, but I wasn’t in any shape to be trying to date anyone at the time. But maybe I’m there now. And maybe that’s what I need – a girl that’s not a total pain in my ass like Tatum always was and Presley currently is. Someone who knows nothing about me or my reputation as a slut.

“You could even see her tonight…Tuesday’s her free night,” she says optimistically.

I think about Presley – how she’s letting Angel come over tonight. Which is annoying. Was it not
last night
that I was in her bed consoling her because Angel’s physically aggressive approach to his new relationship makes her feel all kinds of fucked up ways? I mean, maybe take a damn minute and think about what you want to do with the kid. But nope. Next night, back at it again. Probably thinking,
he might make me feel completely disgusting again, but if that happens, Nash will be there to console me.

I pull out my phone and open the texting stream with Hannah.

Sorry I’ve been MIA I wasn’t trying to blow you off

I’d like to see you again… tonight

I’m seriously trying to not think about her. I’m trying to not check my phone every damn minute to see if she’s texted me. I’m trying to clear my head because Hannah’s gonna be here in fifteen minutes. I owe it to myself to forget about her for the night and give this thing with Hannah a shot.

She’s someone I can start over with, someone who knows nothing about Tatum, Jolee or any of the girls I’ve slept with. For all she knows, I’m the sweet guy that Summer’s told her I am. And there’s something hugely freeing about that.

“So, who’s this girl you’re taking out?” Dad asks from his recliner. He never gives a shit about my social life, but I can tell he doesn’t like that I’m hanging out with any girl who isn’t Presley. The fact that I assumed she’d be willing to come over tonight, and therefore told my dad to try and keep the place clean for her, didn’t help

“One of Summer’s friends. She goes to North.”

“And Presley’s okay with that?”

“Jesus, Dad. Let it go. I’m not with her and she’s got a damn boyfriend.”

He shrugs his shoulders. “I didn’t raise my boys to give up so easy.”

I actually growl at him. “Give up on what? I’m not trying to make her mine.”

“I’m not blind, Nash. I saw the way you were looking at her last Saturday. And I saw the way she looked at you too.”

“Yeah, well you should probably make an appointment with the damn eye doctor because I’m pretty sure you’re going blind.”

“And you should probably make an appointment with your gynecologist because I’m pretty sure you’ve grown a vagina,” he says with a smirk.

He’s a stupid idiot but his comment grades on my nerves. I have been a total pussy with Presley – being her damn shoulder to cry on, giving her god damn dating advice, saying all that corny stupid shit to her.

Headlights shine thorough our front window. “I get that you’re in love with Presley, but don’t act like an asshole to Hannah.”

He rings his finger around his head while gulping down his beer – telling me he’s gonna be an angel.

I open the door for Hannah and think she’s even more beautiful than I remember – long, wavy blonde hair; dewy tan skin; beautiful green eyes; legs that go on for miles. I’m glad Summer convinced me to put on my dark Diesels and white button down because Hannah’s wearing a sexy black dress and stilettos.

“Hey, beautiful,” I tell her, pulling her into my arms and hugging her. She smells nice – some kind of spicy perfume. Presley doesn’t even wear perfume, just smells clean like fresh laundry and her body lotion that smells like the beach and sunshine.
Damn it. Stop thinking about her.

“Hey,” she says in her quiet, sweet voice. “Thanks for getting a hold of me. I thought you’d forgotten all about me,” she says, shyly.

“How could I forget about you?”

She giggles and gives me a demure smile.

“Hey there,” I hear my dad saying from behind me.
He’s gonna try to sabotage me. I already know it.

I suck in a breath and let go of half of Hannah, keeping one protective hand on her back. “Hannah, this is my dad, Nick.”

“It’s great to meet you,” she tells him, extending her hand.

He looks at it like he’s never met anyone with manners. Which is possible I suppose. He shakes her hand and says, “Come on in and have a drink. Let’s get acquainted.”

“Dad,” I say with warning in my voice.

“It’s okay,” Hannah tells me. “I’m here early, we’ve got time before we need to be at the restaurant.”

Excellent.
I give her a tight smile and walk her to the couch.

“Can I get you a beer?” Nick asks her.

She laughs and then realizes he’s serious and says, “Oh. No thanks. I’m only seventeen.”

He looks at her all screwy. “I’m not sure I can trust someone who won’t drink a beer.”

She glances at me, probably looking for help but I’m so damn aggravated I can’t even talk to him right now. “Well I’ve had a beer, I just don’t drink them regularly.”

He nods at her and says, “Well that’s about all we got around here so I guess you’re shit out of luck.”

She shifts uncomfortably next to me and folds her hands together on her lap. “That’s okay. I’m good.”

I wrap an arm around her shoulder like it’s gonna protect her, and she leans back against me, letting out a long breath. “I probably should have warned you about him,” I tell her. “He usually ignores my friends, but he seems hell bent on impressing you for some reason.”

She laughs uncomfortably and my dad glares at me. “Just keeping it real, Son.”

The door opens then and I want to shoot myself because Nate is just gonna aggravate the situation more. He’s a way bigger asshole than Nick. Get them both fired up and shit goes downhill real fast.

“Look who I found out front,” he says and I watch as my dad’s face lights up and he practically teleports out of his recliner. “It’s our little kitty cat.”

What the hell? Presley?
  I look over Hannah’s shoulder and sure as shit, she’s being crushed by Nate’s ape arm and looks totally stunned when her eyes meet mine.

My dad eagerly grabs a hold of her arm and drags her into the living room, throwing her down on his recliner and popping open a beer that he shoves in her hand. “Thought you couldn’t make it tonight, girlie,” he says, taking a seat on the edge of the coffee table and giving her his undivided attention.

“Um,” she stutters. “Well I had plans but I canceled them because I thought I should probably be here instead,” she glances at me, “because, you know, I need to take pictures and Nash said you guys would all be around tonight but I didn’t realize that you had company or I would have stayed home, I guess I should have called first, that was stupid of me…” she says in one of her infamous, nervous, run-on sentences. 

My dad laughs, slapping her on her leg, making her jump. “Don’t mind him. He’s taking off anyway but you’re gonna stay here. Nash said you blew your first assignment but we’ll make sure you get some great pictures for your next one.”

“Dad,” I mutter, uncomfortable as all hell. “She can come back a different night. Don’t try to make her stay here.”

“She wants to stay here, right Presley?”

She looks at him with her big doe eyes and I know that he’s right. For some reason she likes it here in this shitty house with my crazy family. “Well I do need to get my pictures taken and I don’t really want to go back home because my mom’s… kind of under the weather and I don’t really want to hang out with my aunt and cousin and…,” she stops, lets out a big breath and rolls her eyes at herself before taking a long swallow of her beer.