A Son of Carver (Carver High #2) (32 page)

So this totally blows. Watching my
boyfriend
getting hit on
constantly
is not fun. At all. Especially since it’s my wasted cousin who’s doing most of the hitting on. Not that there aren’t a herd of girls waiting their turn but Jolee’s possessive – I think she actually hissed at one of them.

She’s wearing what I’m pretty damn sure is just a slip that’s supposed to be worn under
actual
clothes. It’s doing an excellent job of showing off her tiny round ass and perky little breasts. Nash is doing his best to ignore her but if nothing else, she’s persistent.

I watch as he pushes her off him, again, his angry eyes aimed at me as he does so. I smile so he knows I’m not pissed. When she puts her hands back on him he grabs her shoulders and says something with a severe expression on his face before standing and forcing himself between Colby and August who are on the couch.

I laugh and then take my eyes off him. I have to stop staring at him. He has to stop staring at me. We’re being too obvious. My eyes unintentionally meet Angel’s who’s looking right at me. I smile and wave.

Things between us never quite went back to normal after the dating fiasco. His flirtatious ways were no longer endearing to me after I fell for Nash. And now it’s like he doesn’t know how to interact with me.

But he comes over to me, handing me a red solo cup full of beer, and says, “Hey?” like it’s a question.

“Hey,” I say back to him with a smirk.

“I can’t believe you’re related to that girl,” he tells me. I guess he thought she was who I was staring at. Which I was, but only because she was attached to Nash.

“Weird, huh?”

“Totally.”

I smile uncomfortably at him. Not sure what to say. “So… drinking?”

He shrugs his shoulders. “Nothing else to do. This isn’t really my scene.”

“Yeah,” I agree. “I was kind of surprised to see you here.”

“You know… Tatum. Plus, I was kind of hoping to spend some time with you?” Again, he says it like a question.

I can’t tell what he means by that so I tell him, “Things have been weird between us.”

He runs his free hand through his shock of white hair, his blue eyes seeming to get lost for a moment. He really is a beautiful man. I can still appreciate that, but that’s it. He no longer sets my body on fire with a mere glance. Only one man can do that now and it’s not a fire but a full blown volcano he erupts in me. Which, just the thought of him, is doing to me now. I unintentionally squeeze my pelvic muscle and let out a breath, trying to send my lust out with it.

“I don’t want things to be weird, Presley,” he tells me, his hand reaching out and grabbing a hold of mine.

I squeeze it quickly before letting go. He looks down at my hand and shakes his head before looking back at me. “Why do you always do that now?”

“Do what?” I ask, playing dumb.

“Refuse to let me touch you.”

“I don’t know. It just feels different now after what happened between us. If we’re just friends it doesn’t seem like we should be so touchy.”

“Or is it because when I touch you, you realize you still have feelings for me? Because if that’s the case, Presley, I think you know I feel the same way.” His blue eyes sear me and make me uncomfortable. He takes a step towards me and I can’t take one away from him because my back’s to the wall.

My phone dings in my pocket, saving me from an answer I can’t give him. I give Angel an apologetic smile. “It could be my mom,” I tell him truthfully, pulling it out of my pocket.

Please tell that kid to back the hell off

I want to look at Nash but I can’t so I just smile at my phone.

At least he’s fully clothed… unlike your suitors

Maybe you should run up to your room and get yourself fully clothed

Or I can come with and you can get fully unclothed

I unintentionally sigh at his last text then look down at my chest because of the previous one. Summer did have some loose tops but they were either covered in floral print or had V necks. I went for the only black top in the baggy section which fell into the V neck category so, yeah, there’s a little cleavage.

Give me a minute and then I’ll go see what I’ve got in my closet….

I know you’re trying damn hard not to look at me but I just got off the couch

And now I’m heading up the stairs…

I laugh and glance at the couch that Nash has, indeed, abandoned.

“Is everything alright?” Angel asks.

I put my phone in my pocket and tell him, “Yeah.”

He clears his throat. “You didn’t tell me, or Tatum, why your mom went back to California for the weekend. We had to hear it from Jolee.”

“I know. It’s not something I really want to talk about.”

“How come?” he asks like
he’s
annoyed.

“I don’t know, Angel,” I tell him crossing my arms over my chest, annoyed myself now. “We don’t really talk about me. We talk a lot about you, but not so much about me.” Which is true and something I never really realized until I started hanging out with Nash who
always
wants to talk about me, even when I don’t want to. Angel really doesn’t know anything about me. Which is partly my fault because I was trying to pretend like I was normal when I was with him. Which wasn’t hard to do because he almost
never
asked anything about me.

He nods his head at me. “You’re probably right. I can definitely be a selfish, self-involved asshole. But I’m willing to work on myself, Presley. If we had tried a little harder, if you would have pointed out the reasons you didn’t want to try with me, I would have been willing to work with you.”

I shake my head and let out a breath of disbelief. Nash was right all along. “That’s the problem, Angel. Everything with you would have been work. Allowing me to be part of your life would have been an effort for you. For you, thinking about anyone besides yourself is and effort. I don’t want someone who has to
try
to be with me like it’s a damn job. I want someone who wants to be with me.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

This is stupid. I shouldn’t even be having this conversation with him. “It doesn’t matter, Angel. There’s no point rehashing why we didn’t work as a couple. But hopefully we can figure out how to be friends again.”

“Yeah…” he says, his eyes severe. “I’m not sure that’s what I want from you, Presley.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “Well that’s all you’re gonna get so… take it or leave it.”

He shrugs his shoulders, a cocky grin covering his face. “I might have to leave it. I have plenty of
friends.
”

My head retracts at his words. I hope to god it’s just the alcohol talking because the kid standing before me is a straight up asshole. Nash’s sarcastic words float through my head
he sounds like a great friend.
And I realize, maybe he was never my friend. “Well that’s good Angel. Sounds like you don’t need me.” I step around him and go, eagerly heading up the stairs.

As I open the door to my bedroom I’m beyond relieved to see Nash kicked back on my bed, phone in hand, which he drops as soon as he sees me.

I lock the door behind me and crawl up the bed and into his arms. “What’s wrong?” he asks, knowing something’s up even though I did my best to smile sincerely as I walked into the room.

“Nothing,” I tell him. “I just figured out that Angel was never my friend. And yes, I know, you were right. You’re always right.”

He laughs, pulls me on top of him so he can look at me and says, “I’m sorry. I know his friendship meant something to you.”

I shrug. “We haven’t really been friends ever since we stopped seeing each other. Really, it’s okay.” He gives me a mistrusting glare. “I’m serious. If our friendship was real, I would have missed it when it was gone. But I don’t. Because there was probably no friendship to begin with. Just some stupid flirting and banter being exchanged. He doesn’t even know me and, although I could list a thousand facts about him, I never really got to know him either. It’s okay.”

He wraps his big hands around my waist. “He’s missing out. You’re a great friend.”

I smile at him. “You’re a pretty good friend too. In fact, you’re the best friend I’ve ever had.”

He sits up to peck my lips. “Don’t tell Summer this, but you’re my best friend too.”

I laugh. “Best friends forever, huh?”

“That’s what I’m planning on,” he tells me, his tone becoming serious.

“Should we make a blood pact?” I ask him with a laugh.

“A spit pact would probably be more appropriate,” he tells me, his hands running up my thighs.

I smirk at him before popping my finger in my mouth, sucking on it before pulling it out and slipping it into his open mouth. He grabs a hold of my hand and sucks hard on my finger, causing me to whimper. I lean forward, my tongue joining my finger in his mouth before I pull my hand away and run my wet finger down his neck. He growls before picking me up, turning me around and laying me back on my bed, his body hovering over mine. He kisses me so deeply, his hands not on me, his body so close I can feel it, but not touching me. He’s driving me crazy.

Frantically, I start unfastening the blue button down shirt he’s wearing. It looks so damn good on him but it will look better on the floor. He shrugs out of it and my hands go immediately to his skin. I feel him like it’s the first time I’ve touched him, marveling at how hard and strong he is, my mouth crying with appreciation into his.

His hand finally touches me, grasping around my neck before he runs a finger down my sternum and between my breasts. Which are eager for his touch. It didn’t take long for them to be greedy for him, just like the rest of me is.

He pushes my knees up and kneels between them, his mouth never leaving mine. He’s got both hands on me now. They round the top of my breasts before his fingers slip under my bra. He continues to round my breast until they are set free from my bra and the V in my shirt has stretched to the sides, allowing my beast to spill out the top.

He pulls out of my mouth and looks down at my skin, his eyes brimming over with lust. “You’re so beautiful.” He looks up and me and I try to pull him back down to my mouth. “Look at yourself, Presley. Jesus, you’re so gorgeous.” I no longer have any kind of aversion to him touching or sucking or licking my breasts but I don’t really want to look at them. “Please,” he whispers.

I suck in a breath and then, reluctantly, look down at my naked breasts that are popping out of my shirt. Yes, they’re still huge, but they’re full and eager and his hands are touching me with what I know is appreciation and it turns me on. It’s sexy. He leans down and I watch as his fat tongue drags across my nipple and I moan at the site. My body reacts by releasing a pool of moisture, reminding me that there are other parts of my body that want him too. He moves to my other breast, capturing my hard nipple between his teeth and gently biting before covering it with his mouth. He moans as his mouth does fascinating things to my nipple. My eyes roll back in my head and I cry for him, my hips lifting, desperate to make contact. “I need you, Nash. Now.”

He sits up, his mouth full of spit, his eyes crazed, as he undoes the button and zipper of my jeans.

And then everything falls apart.

“What the hell? Oh my god!” Jolee screeches.

My head snaps towards the sound of her voice, finding her at the bathroom entrance, her hands clasped over her mouth. She’s staring at my naked breasts, a look of disgust clear in her eyes.

Nash picks me up and holds me protectively to his chest. “Jolee…” he warns.

Her hands fall from her mouth revealing an evil grin as she looks at him. “Her? You’re having sex with her? Oh my god… she’s disgusting. You’re disgusting.” She’s laughing now.

I bury my face in his neck trying to hide from her.

Just like that, with two little words and one severe look of repulsion, all those feelings that Nash worked so hard to extract from me are back again.

I knew that letting people know that Presley and I were together would be bad for her but I was wrong about the reason why. I couldn’t have predicted that it would be Jolee who outed us, who infiltrated an intense moment of passion between me and the girl I love and managed to twist it into something that, to Presley, felt wrong and embarrassing.

I didn’t want her to be embarrassed about being with me and she’s not. That bitch made her feel embarrassed about herself. She made her feel unworthy and ugly and I hate her so much I’m filled with a kind of rage I’ve never known.

Presley’s not angry. Part of her is shut down. All of her is numb. She doesn’t want to talk about it. She wants to act like it never happened and it’s no big deal. Which it is. Because what happened changed her. It changed us.

I’m all in. More than ever. Making things right, making her happy, is all that matters to me. I’m not leaving her side. People can say whatever the hell they want about how weird it is that we’re a couple or how stupid she is for being with me, but none of that matters anymore. Not to me because making sure that two of us, together, are as good as we can be is all that matters to me. And not to her because she is in some kind of checked out survival mode where literally nothing matters.

I wait outside her class like I do every period since we showed up at school yesterday to find an illustration of two large boobs and the word SLUT written in permanent marker on her locker. By the end of the day the custodian had it removed but I moved her into my locker where her shit is staying indefinitely.

Jolee and her gang of whores are making Presley’s life hell. At least they’re trying – like I said, Presley’s not even here anymore.

As soon as she walks out of class, her eyes glazed over, I wrap her protectively in my arm. She smiles up at me and says, “Hey.” She’s doing a damn good job pretending like nothing’s changed but I know her too well.

“Hey,” I tell her, leaning over to kiss the top of her head as I lead her to our locker.

I now stop there before heading to escort her from class because there’s usually a gift waiting inside for us. Or if it’s too big to fit through the vent, it will be tacked to the front. This morning’s gift was a copy of
Juggs-
a porn magazine featuring big breasted women.

Girls can be such nasty, jealous bitches. It makes me sick. It makes me feel a lot of things actually – about the way I’ve behaved in the past, the things I’ve done, the way I’ve treated people, the girls I’ve slept with. I feel shitty about humanity as a whole. Myself included.

I grab her politics book out of her bag and replace it with her trigonometry one, then sling it over my shoulder. “How was class?” I ask, grabbing a hold of her hands. She doesn’t have class with Jolee but two of her minions are in Presley’s last period. I have to hear from the guys what’s happening to her. She doesn’t tell me anything.

“Good,” she says brightly. “What about you?”

I did have last period with the bitch who spent the hour staring at me with a shit eating grin, whispering to her friends and giggling. I don’t know what the hell is so funny. I’m dating the sexiest girl in our school and yeah, we were totally getting it on. Fucking hilarious? I don’t get it.

Every time Jolee or one of her friends pass us in the halls or walks by us at lunch they mutter insults under their breath.
Slut. Whore. Skank.
Or they simply hiss,
eww, gross, disgusting, pig, wierdo, ugly, fat.
They’re so damn smart they even came up with a new nickname –
Chestly.
Sounds like Presley. So clever…
not.

And what do I do?
Nothing
. I follow Presley’s lead and do absolutely nothing. Shelter her from the things I can, stay by her side whenever possible, send a seething glare when Presley can’t see, and feed the rage inside of me that’s turning into a god damn monster that’s just clawing to get the hell out of my body and go ape shit on all these stupid fucking idiots.

I pinch my eyes closed and remove my hands from hers when I realize how hard I’m holding her.

“Nash? Are you okay?” she asks, looking slightly amused.

“Yeah,” I force myself to smile at her. “I’m okay.” Which is a total lie. Everything inside of me feels like it’s vibrating. I can’t even see straight. “Hey, you want to get out of here? Ditch the rest of the day? I’ll take you out to lunch and to a movie.”

“I would love to but I have a test next period. Plus, my mom doesn’t need to be taking shit from LeAnn.”

On top of all this bullshit, Presley’s dealing with the fact that her parents just got divorced. And Laura isn’t doing so great. Presley’s trying to be strong at home too. I wonder how much more of this shit she can handle until she breaks.

I wrap her up in my arms, ducking my head until as much of me is covering as much of her as possible. She wraps her arms around me and buries her head in my chest. “You don’t have to be so tough you know,” I whisper.

“I do,” she whispers back. “Otherwise I might crack.”

I hold her closer. Pinching my eyes closed because the emotion about to explode out of me right now isn’t rage, but sadness. “Or, you can be tougher. We can tell all these people to fuck off.”

She pushes off of me and looks up into my eyes. I can feel the moisture covering mine. Hers still look dead. “They don’t matter, Nash.”

“True,” I agree. “But I don’t know how much longer I can stand back and let this shit go on.”

She laughs. “What are you gonna do? Beat up a girl?”

“Maybe.”

She shakes her head at me. “The more we ignore it the quicker it will go away. She’ll get bored soon enough and move on to a new victim. At least you and I don’t have to pretend anymore, right?”

It’s crazy to me that the girl who’s victimizing her is her own flesh and blood. How wrong is that? “Yeah,” I force myself to say. “At least we don’t have to pretend.”

But we are, and I know that. We’re pretending like we’re fine. We’re pretending like the girls in this school aren’t killing her, one cruel move at a time.

Presley and I leave the one hour of the day where we can breathe and be ourselves – photography class – and head to the hour of the day where my guard has to be one hundred percent up – lunch.

Yesterday we sat at my side of the table, which was a mistake. The cheerleaders “whispered” about what Jolee saw when she walked into Presley’s room…a story that’s grown into basically a scene out of the raunchiest porn movie – Presley the big breasted star who likes to feel herself up and scream out her demands while she rides me. The guys were no better; looking at her with smirks on their faces, their eyes glued to her chest. August was the only one acting decent and carrying on a normal conversation with us but even he couldn’t keep the pity off his face.

Summer’s doing a better job of defending Presley than I am – at least she’s scolding the girls for talking shit and trying to put a stop to the rumors. She’s furious and thinks we need to just abandon our
friends
altogether but I’m not backing down.

Today she leads us to the other side of the table where Angel, Tatum and Brandon are. Presley hesitates when she sees where Summer’s going but Summer whispers, “It’s okay.”

I wrap my arm tighter around Presley and follow Summer. The two of us barricade her, forming a wall on either side to protect her from the seething glare Tatum’s aiming at her. The look Brandon’s giving me isn’t much better.

Angel, who’s sitting next to Summer says, “Are you kidding me? You couldn’t hack it with your asshole friends so we get the pleasure of sitting with the new couple every day?”

I assume he’s talking to me so I turn to him, all the rage inside of be burning a hole in my corneas. “She doesn’t deserve the shit she’s getting just because she’s with me. You, as her fucking friend, should know that.”

He shakes his head then stands, tray in hand. “She’s not my fucking friend. The girl I knew would have stayed the hell away from your STD ridden ass. But this chick… I don’t know her. Guess I didn’t know that other girl either because she sure as hell played all of us… her
fucking friends
.” He walks away and it takes every ounce of will power I have not to follow him and bash his arrogant brain into the cinder block wall.

Instead, I look down at Presley who’s staring blankly at nothing like she does now when it’s not just the two of us. I reach my fingers into her hair, turning her head, forcing her to look at me. I don’t say anything, just stare at her. She looks broken. She simply shakes her head at me and then looks away.

“Asshole,” I mutter under my breath, my eyes unintentionally coming into contact with Tatum’s who’s looking at me with sheer hate. “What?” I bark at her.

She stutters a laugh and narrows her eyes at me. “How long has this been going on for?”

“Are you blind? Do you see the shit that’s going on around you? To your best friend? Is that really the question you want to ask, Tatum?”

“And whose fault is that? What the hell did you do, Nash?”

“Tatum…” Summer says with concern.

“What?” she asks, her angry eyes moving to Summer. “Did you know about this too? I mean is this like a little harem? Do you both belong to him now? What the hell is going on here? She was my best friend. She was the only girl I knew who was able to see through your bullshit,” her eyes are back on me now. “I mean, you even got this one to join your fan club,” she says blindly motioning to Summer. “I respected her. But turns out, not only was she stupid enough to have sex with you, but she’s been doing it behind my back. And for how long?” her eyes are on Presley now. “Because this,” her hand points to Presley and then to me, “is not a one night fling. I know him and I know you and whatever the hell is going on with the two of you has been happening for a while. Were you ever gonna tell me?” she asks Presley.

“Yeah, Tatum, I was,” she says coolly.

“Because I’ve asked you… I’ve asked you why you’ve seemed different. I’ve asked you why you’re never around anymore. I’ve ask you where you spend your nights. I’ve asked you why you broke it off with Angel….” She stops suddenly, her eyes burrowing into Presley’s. “Oh my God, is
he
the reason you couldn’t make things work with Angel? Has this shit been going on for months? Have you been lying to me for
months
?”

“Tatum…” Summer tries to interrupt again.

“Summer, stay out of this,” she warns, her eyes never leaving Presley’s.

“Yes,” Presley finally says, and I wince. “There’s been something going on for months.”

“Jesus,” Tatum says, shaking her head. “Who the hell are you? I don’t even know you.” She stands too and walks away. Jesus, we’re clearing them out faster than shit on a shovel.

Just when I think things can’t get worse, a Jolee lackey reaches her arm around me, setting down two cantaloupe halves in front of Presley. “To tide her over until she can be alone with herself.”