Hot Water (21 page)

“You said you didn’t care about that!”

“I can’t
not
care about that. This is who I am. I am Caden Williams. And I’m not someone who . . .” he says, waving his hand at me like I’m a fly he wants to shoo away, leaving me to fill in the blanks.
I’m not someone who wastes my time with trashy little girls
. “And I’m done. This is done.”

“I knew I didn’t deserve you. You’re . . .
perfect
. I just . . . the longer I knew you, the more I couldn’t take the thought of you looking at me like . . . like . . “ Like the way he’s looking at me now. Like I’m worthless. I drop my eyes to the ground, to shield myself from his disappointment. I stifle a sob. “I’m so sorry.”

He ignores the apology. I suppose because it will never be enough. His voice is back to all business. He puts his glasses back on and studies his desk. “How many weeks do you have until your internship ends?”

“One,” I whisper.

He nods and plants himself into his chair, pulling himself behind his desk with great force. “Good. I don’t want to see you. If you see me coming, walk in the other direction, and I will do the same with you.”

No. This is not how it ends. It can’t be. I open my mouth, ready to plead. Ready to beg.

“I’m sor—“ I begin, but he cuts me off.

“Out, Miss Chase. Get out.”

Caden

FUUUUUCK
.

That did not just happen. The birthday cake, the candles, all of her co-workers looking at me, watching me mentally decompose. And there’ve been rumors about us. They’re all over. It was bad enough when I thought she was twenty-five. But eighteen? She’s fucking . . . is she even out of high school? Isn’t that fucking illegal?

Shit
!

How can I be attracted to a little girl? Her tits were perky and sweet because
all of her
was perky and sweet—she’s practically a baby. I’m a fucking pedophile.

I stand up and grab my things, then turn off my computer and head for the door. Before I open it, I take several calming breaths, trying to get back the Williams composure. My forehead is damp with sweat, so I dab it with the sleeve of my suit jacket before I step outside. I start to talk to Victoria, but then I notice the heads, prairie-dogging from the sea of cubicles. They quickly avert my eyes, but it’s clear they know
something
.

Fuuuuck. “Victoria,” I say, my voice stern, “I have unexpected business. I’ll be back in tomorrow.”

“Yes, Mr. Williams,” she says, but I can’t help thinking her expression is changed, that now she is looking at me in a pitiful,
he-likes-little-girls
way.

Cameron, wherever he is, is probably shaking his head right now, saying,
Is this the girl you were telling me about? So you messed this one up, too
. And yeah, he’s right. I did. I’ve totally, one-hundred-percent, put the Caden Williams touch on things and fucked up. What the hell is wrong with me? How could I have fallen so quickly and hopelessly for someone who’s probably never even had her cherry popped? In a decade or so, I’ll be surprised if Caden Williamsing something doesn’t become a synonym for fucking up.

 I stalk past my father’s office. I’m glad he isn’t in today. I’m glad he can’t witness this.

Because he’s right.

Once a fuck-up, always a fuck-up.

Cicily

I don’t know what happens next. I’m so blinded by tears that I stumble past my cubicle. I can’t go there, because I want to sob and scream and I’m sure everyone in the building will know. I end up in the women’s restroom , bawling into wads of toilet paper in a way that makes me think I’ll never stop. The pain in my chest is like it’s being ripped apart.
Welcome to nineteen
, I think, picturing the way he’d looked at me.
You big, worthless nobody
.

I’m so lost in those thoughts that I don’t notice when the door opens and someone comes in. I can tell it’s Jacinta from the high red heels she’s wearing. “Little pig, little pig, let me in,” she whispers.

I push open the door with my foot. “How did you know I was here?”

She rolls her eyes. “Um. The whole floor knows you’re here.”

I catch my breath. “They do?”

“Caden was yelling at someone in his office. He’s the Iceman. He never yells.” She looks at the ceiling. “And then lo and behold, you walked out. Looking like your grandmother just died.”

I look down at the tiled floor. Great.

 “You love him,” she says.

It’s not a question. So I don’t answer. I don’t want to. It’s too embarrassing. Coupled with the realization that she knows, that probably everyone knows, I might as well go drown myself in the ocean.
Stupid, naïve Cicily Chase fell in love with the amazing Caden Williams, who is way out of her league
. “Does everyone know?” I finally say.

“People might have suspicions, but nobody knows for sure. Don’t worry . . . you’re in good company. Believe me, you wouldn’t be the first girl to fall for him.”

“Just the stupidest,” I mutter.

She kneels down in front of me. “He didn’t know your real age, did he?”

“Does it matter?” I sniff.

She nods. “Yeah, it
does
matter.” Her voice is so resolute that I immediately raise my chin to look at her. “Do you know how I knew about you two?”

I shake my head.

“It wasn’t the way you looked at him. It was the way he looked at you. If a man ever looked at me like that, I’d wet my pants. If he was as beautiful as Caden Williams, I’d both wet my pants and have a heart attack. He has it bad for you.”

That should comfort me, but it only makes me feel worse. I misled him into feeling that way.

 “And like I’ve told you, age is inconsequential. He’s not going to stop feeling that way just because you’re a little younger than he is.”

“A
lot
younger.”

“Oh, whatever. Human beings are not like faucets. We can’t just turn our emotions on and off when it’s convenient.” She smiles. “I mean, it’s not like May December romances never happen. You’re nineteen, an adult. You two . . . maybe you guys need each other. And if he doesn’t want to give that a chance, or if he lets other people tell him it’s wrong, he’s an idiot.”

It’s true. We wouldn’t be the weirdest couple that ever existed. I’d told myself that over and over again, which is part of the reason I indulged it for so long. But had he known that I was eighteen from the start, he never would have kissed me. He would have kept his distance. The problem really wasn’t our age difference. It was the betrayal. He’s been lied to before, by Andrea, by Rhys. If he wasn’t able to forgive that, I couldn’t blame him.

I pull myself to my feet and she envelops me in a hug. “Just give him time,” she whispers. “And if all else fails, you’re going to college in a week. Just find a hot frat brother.”

I blot my face with the rest of my tissue and smile, seriously doubting even the most amazing frat brother could match up with Caden. When we step out of the stall, I splash water on my face until the swelling starts to go down. I can’t have my mother seeing me cry; she just won’t stand for it in a place of business. I take a few deep breaths and say, “I’m okay now.”

But I’m not. I want it to be true, but I’m not. That crushing pain in my chest is still there. I know there’s only one remedy for that. And it’s not going to happen. He’s
The
Caden Williams, adored by women everywhere.

And I’m no exception.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Caden

There’s a small, dirty bar on the corner, where I’ve found myself every evening this week. The bartender, Pat, knows me, so he keeps the scotches coming. I’ve been racking up 4-figure bar bills every night, which isn’t hard when I’m buying scotch at forty dollars a glass for me and whoever chances to sit near me.

The truth is, when I was nineteen, I was a big fuck-up. I didn’t take anything seriously. Nineteen is a
long
way from maturity. She doesn’t know anything. Hell, she probably thought playing this game, fucking with me, was
fun
.

A blonde and her brunette friend sit on either side of me. They’re cougars, older than me. That much is obvious. I’ve seen them in the bar before. They’re well-dressed and well-taken care of, with thick caked-on make-up and wear around the edges. When they talk, their voices are low and self-assured. They have serious, non-perky names, like Elizabeth and Susan. I buy them shots, because I can tell they want to get drunk as fast as I do.

They laugh, which I’m glad for, because I cannot do with a giggle. Not tonight.

They take turns leaning in, whispering things into my ear until their whispers become slurred. One of them puts her hand on my crotch.

I invite them upstairs. They agree.

I haven’t picked up women in a bar in years. My buddies had picked up Cicily, and she was in a class by herself—she didn’t belong there, she looked like a shiny penny in a sewer. The girls that are with me are standard barroom fare. From what I remember, this kind always agrees to just about anything. They agree when we step into an elevator and I tell them I want to see them make out. In my bleariness, I watch, numb, as these two women, brazen and adventurous, go at it, groping one another.

I’ve had threesomes before. Not since grad school, though. Back then, watching two girls pawing at each other, stuffing their tongues down each other’s throat, would get me instantly hard. Now, I feel . . . empty.

I need to forget. I need to feel something other than that gnawing need I feel for her. When we get to my apartment, I tear open my pants and force the blonde down on my cock. She laps at it, eagerly. From this vantage point, she almost looks like Cicily.
Fuck that, can’t think of that
. The other one starts to undress me as I kiss her. She smells like cigarettes, and meanwhile I can only think of cake, of that perfume that makes Cicily completely irresistible.

Try as I can not to think of her, the second I do, it makes me instantly hard.

I think of those perky tits, of the smooth feel of her skin, the taste of her, those sweet little noises she’d made as I ran my tongue over each nipple . . . and fuck, I really shouldn’t be dwelling on her. She’s what I’m trying to forget. She’s in my head when I come hard, making all of this feel so fucking wrong, futile. I thread my fingers through the cougar’s hair at the base of her neck, forcing her onto my throbbing cock until she has no choice but to swallow.

She complies, then licks her lips and pulls off of my cock with a resounding smack. She stumbles back a little as she kicks off her heels, and begins to pull the straps of her dress down. She stands in front of me, her big, full breasts on display, as the other one nips at my nipples, and already the feeling is growing.

I want to be alone.

“Stop,” I say to them, in my commanding voice. They both do and look at me for further direction. They like to be told what to do. Before, that would have turned me on, but now, it only makes me angry. “I want you to go.”

“What?” they both ask, in unison. The girl on the couch next to me tries to touch me, but I flick her away with my arm.

“The elevator is there. Get the fuck out.”

They look at each other, grab their things and start to leave. They don’t bother to put on their clothes or fix their make-up. They are used to this, used to guys wanting them one minute, treating them like dirt the next.

 “Asshole,” one of them says.

I agree. I am one. I deserve to be alone, and without her, I’m starting to prefer it.

#

The next morning, I wake with a hangover. I’m sprawled naked on the bed with damp sheets tangled in my limbs because, as I vaguely remember, I’d washed those two sluts off my body and then couldn’t bother to dry off.

Rhys is standing over me.

Fuck.

“You have a good night?” he asks, amused.

“What time is it?” I moan, searching out my alarm clock.

“Eleven.”

“Shit! Eleven?”

I’d had . . . meetings. Important ones. Had I just blown them off? I hadn’t done anything so irresponsible since before Andrea.

“Don’t worry. I covered for you.” He hands me a bottle of water and a bottle of aspirin. “Get your shit together.”

I sit up. My head feels like it’s being jackhammered. “It’s together.”

“That’s not what everyone’s saying at the office, man. The board has been pretty concerned about you. There are rumors.”

I close my eyes, massage my temples. “What rumors?”

“You. And a certain intern. I’ve known you for many years, man, and we’ve had our eyes on the same girl a thousand times. But that’s the first time you nearly dislocated my jaw because of one. So I tend to believe they’re true.”

“She’s nineteen,” I mutter.

He puts his hands behind his back and starts to pace. “I have also heard that part of the rumor.”

“Fuck, am I the only guy who didn’t know?” I pile the sheets in my lap and exhale. “So what do I do?”

“What do we always do? Say fuck her, and forget her. Deny, deny, deny. She’ll be going off to preschool or wherever she’s headed in a week, and you can get back to business. Just hold it together for one fucking week. Can’t you do that?”

I nod. Right. That’s all I need to do. It sounds simple, but the more I think about it, the more impossible it feels. “I can’t.”

He stares at me. “She’s under your skin?”

“Completely.”

“What the—“ he narrows his eyes. “Really, man? Caden Williams does not let girls get under his skin. Dig her the fuck out. What you need to do is get with a couple whores—“

“Tried that. Last night.”

“Wow. Since when is a good old fashioned threesome not the cure for anything that ails you?” He looks as shell-shocked as I feel. “I don’t get it. She’s nothing. She’s a stupid kid.”

“I don’t get it either. But she gets me. Better than anyone. You think I put an end to my engagement because of what you and Andrea did? I did it because of her. If it weren’t for her, I’d be married, accepting what you two did as just one of those things. But when I met Cicily, I realized all the things I was missing. I want those things. I want to be able to laugh and have fun and not feel like my entire life is under a fucking microscope.”