Secrets and Lies 6 (The Ferro Family) (2 page)

The thoughts rush through my mind in a cascade, flowing so rapidly I can’t possibly set my finger on one thought. Instead they merge and rush through me, cold and pressing, pushing me forward and filling my body with a cool confidence that’s completely intoxicating. I’m power-drunk and I love it. At this moment, Nate is enthralled and I’m the woman who’s got him on a hook. He wants anything I offer, and isn’t holding anything back, so why should I?

I call it. Cautious Kerry is dead. This is the new me. I surveyed the cliff and stared into the sun. The blinding light beckons to me, calling me forward. The rush of lust and adrenaline mingle and my shoulders pull back as my chest curves out into a classic S-curve.

Posed naked in front of him, I say with a flirtatious smile on my lips, “I’m game for anything and everything. Ditching the condom is your call. Do your best. Leave me so breathless I forget my name.”

Nate suppresses a grin as he steps back and pulls off the condom.

S
ated
, with a silly grin on my face, I lie in Nate’s bed for a while. We say nothing and I wonder if he regrets anything. I’m not asking because I sure as hell don’t, which surprises me. I did things with him that I’ve never done before, acts that will make my cheeks burn in the light of day. He had me so wildly turned on that I didn’t think at all. I was a basic version of myself—Kerry 1.0. Apparently, she doesn’t say much and fucks hard. She also likes orange juice in copious amounts. I’ve already had three glasses and decide to go finish off the carton.

When I swing my legs out of bed and my feet hit the floor, I would normally stop and pull on a shirt or something to cover up my nakedness. The curve of my stomach is too big and the padding on my hips shows how much I like milkshakes. I’m not Amazon Barbie, but I feel okay with myself at the moment, so I bypass the clothing and pad down the hallway nude. I feel Nate’s eyes on me appreciating the view as I head to the kitchen.

I call back to him, “Can I get you anything?”

“Water would be great.” His voice is gravelly, rough from voicing deep commands. Combined with that throaty groans of pleasure that erupted when I did certain things, things that make me go hot now that I think about them, it’s no wonder his voice sounds rough.

“You got it.”

I don’t bother turning on the lights in the kitchen. I’ve been in here a few times already and have an idea where things are, well the things that matter anyway. Nate’s fridge was nearly bare when I got here, and now it’s totally empty. The guy hates grocery shopping, so he only had a few odds and ends that came from a convenience store down the block. I might have to stop there next time I head over here for another fuckfest. Assuming there is another.

I pause and consider not being with him again. That would suck. He’s been good for me, despite our rough start. I hope I’ve been good for him. Based on the way he spoke my name earlier, I know at the very least that he had a good time.

As I stare into the fridge, I fixate on the tiny light at the back of the icebox. It illuminates the small kitchen, casting shadows into the dark corners. I grab the carton, crack the top, and tip it back, guzzling the OJ. My throat hurts—a particular sexy act didn’t go according to plan—and the cool liquid feels good.

When I come up for air, I call back to Nate, “I think I bruised my uvula.”

His laughter reaches me and he says something, but I don’t hear him.

Something in the dark corner catches my eye in my peripheral, and I turn slowly. The hairs on my arms stand on end and my heart thumps wildly. Someone is watching me. I feel eyes on me. As I turn and look at the empty table and chairs, I scan the room. There’s no one here. I pad across the linoleum and toward the back door. The darkness hid it before, but I see it now. There’s a space, a dim crack of light between the jamb and the door—it’s open. Someone was here.

Stepping forward, I put my palm on the door and push it shut, and lock it. As I do so, a small slip of paper protrudes from the slit in the door.

I pull it out and scan the scribble:

My heart sinks as I stare at the note. It’s from Ferro. It has to be. I crumple up the paper and try to push aside the bile that rises up in my mouth. He was here, in the house? Did he watch us? That’s disgusting! Even worse, how did I not notice him? Couldn’t I tell if someone were here? Caution was the furthest thing from my mind at the time. I was secure in thinking Nate and I were the only ones in the house. Although, I doubt I’d be aware of anything but Nate, wrapped up in him the way I was.

I guzzle the rest of the juice and stuff the note in the carton before tossing it in the trash. Worry pinches my face and that uneasy sensation settles once more into the pit of my stomach. I grab Nate a glass from the cabinet and fill it with water. As I pad back to his room, I decide I need to tell him what I did to get this house back before it blows up in my face. I just have to find the right time.

T
he right moment
doesn’t present itself quickly. Nothing is effortless when it comes to me. Why did I think telling Nate I nearly castrated his biological father to get back his house would be easy? It’s nearly four in the morning by the time I roll out of his bed. Nate’s dark lashes flutter as he attempts to keep his gaze locked on my face, but sleep paws at him until he succumbs.

Quietly, I slip on my clothes without waking him. I hate goodbyes. Besides, what am I supposed to say to the guy? Thanks for blowing my mind and giving me more orgasms in one day than I’ve had in my entire life…by the way, I drank all your juice. Yeah, no thanks.

As I sneak out the front door and pull it closed, I feel like a douche. Not saying goodbye is lame, but I don’t want to wake him and I can’t stay until sunrise. As it is, the bus is a sore thumb and my stupid, oversized rodent also came out for a booty call last night. He doesn’t exactly operate in stealth mode. While I was having a good time, he went at it too. The little bastard made love to all the trashcans on the block.

As I stand at the curb in rumpled clothes and serious sex hair, I gape. There’s not one garbage pail left standing. They all lie on their sides with the contents strewn all over the asphalt.

“Crap,” I mutter to myself, wondering if I should pick them all up. It’d take the rest of the night. That little rat tipped every single can, save one.

I turn and gaze at Nate’s trash in the brown pail, neatly waiting at the curb for removal. That’s bad for business. All his neighbors are going to think that Nate’s weird friend with the bus went through their trash.

As if on cue, the fuzzy little pain in the ass comes waddling toward me before curving to make a beeline for the bus. I whisper-rant at him, “You had to eat everyone’s garbage, didn’t you? Jeez, PITA!” I shake my head and put fists on my hips, glaring at him. The raccoon doesn’t respond. He’s such a bitch. “That’s your name now, pain in the ass. I hope you’re happy.”

So I do what any other girl in my situation would do. I head to the curb and glance up and down the block, making sure I’m unobserved before taking Nate’s trashcan and knocking it over. The lid falls off and white GLAD bags fall out. The neighbor’s dumped pails are messier.

Holy hell, I can’t believe I’m doing this. I bend over and grab the plastic, ripping it with my nails and then kicking the bag so the garbage spills out. An empty KFC container and chicken bones goes flying along with tissues and a ridiculous amount of dental floss. Nate has a flossing fetish and seriously needs an intervention, because what the hell? I stare at the ball of blue floss, tangled in the chicken carcass. I don’t have time to ponder my lover’s dental obsession. I need to make his garbage as messy as everyone else’s, so I repeat the slash and trash to two more bags and then hightail it to my bus.

When I climb the stairs, the little beast hisses at me, like I went to a party without him. As I start the engine, I snap at him, “Oh shut up, Pita. It’s not like I could clean it all up. What else was I supposed to do?”

Of course, if Nate knew I ripped up his garbage, he might have second thoughts about banging me again. Don’t dip your wick in crazy is a dude mantra and playing in his garbage is a few ticks past insane. It’s the equivalent of eating my freak flag with ketchup. At the same time, floss much, Nate?

Pita hisses and then scratches the leather seat and settles in as the bus lurches to life. I get the hell out of there, and don’t look back.

T
he next day
I’m a zombie. I plop down hard at the lunch table across from Emily. She’s sporting a freshly dyed head of Kool-Aid colored blue and grape hair. The spiked dog collar has been replaced with a strap that looks like it came from a bra.

I stare at it. “New choker?”

She lifts a pierced brow and nods. “Upcycled.”

“As in it went higher than your tits?” I say it straight-faced and stuff a taco in my mouth.

Emily nearly chokes on her soda. Her jaw drops and she looks me over. “No, upcycled—as in recycled with a higher, more glam purpose. That was slightly ostentatious for this time of day. What got into you?” Her gaze slips over me, appraisingly, and then the corner of her mouth tips up and I get treated to a nod of respect.

“Nothing. I'm just sick of pussyfooting around all the time. I’m going to be blunt for the rest of my life. You have a bra strap on your neck, dude. Phys Ed sweats make up ninety percent of my wardrobe. We both are freaked out by those stairs at the bar.”

Emily snorts, “With good reason.”

I munch another bite and wipe a piece of lettuce off my lip before saying, mouth still full, “I like the strap choker. It’s like a big ‘F YOU’ to everyone. The hair rocks, too.”

Emily preens and her shoulders go back, neck long and lean. You’d think I paid her the highest compliment she ever received. Apparently, she was going for the ‘fuck off’ outfit and nailed it. “You don’t look so bad yourself. I like the new non-gym attire. It’s like you’re not a PE major or something. Once you get a few paint stains on those jeans, you’ll blend right in with the rest of us.”

I laugh and wince slightly, careful not to put my hand on my distressed muscles. My all-nighter made it very clear I don’t have abs of steel. “I’m sure.”

Emily notices how I tense I am and the way my eyes start to press shut. Chewing her food in the side of her mouth, she swallows and asks, “Working out?”

You could say that. “Yeah. I’m channeling all my unresolved anger into an awesome workout plan.”

Also known as the ‘screw Nate until I can’t walk’ method. It’s done wonders for my mood. I feel light and limber. The part of me that was emotionally overridden and shorting out has stopped arcing like a fork in a microwave. I was totally ready to blow, well, not like that. Although, that was a good diversion. Nate tastes good, sweet almost. Probably from drinking all that juice. I smirk, not meaning to. I need to buy him some more OJ.

Emily’s fork balances on her finger as she stares at me. “A new workout plan? Is it hard?”

I suppress a grin. “Yeah, it’s really hard, the hardest I’ve ever done.” Double entendre. Inner giggle. I go straight-faced when Emily blinks at me, not looking away.

“Does it target your stomach and butt?”

“Amongst other areas, yeah.” I’m stuffing a taco in my face to hide my I-had-sex smile.

Emily nods. At first I don’t think she has a clue. She keeps stepping in it, rambling on about how she needs to work on her ass and if this new exercise could make her tighter, perkier.

“Totally, all of the above.” Tighter, perkier, and all around happier.

Carter saunters over with a tray in his hands and sits down next to me. A rail of a guy who is uber tall and covered in piercings, also sits down next to Emily and suddenly there are a lot of people.

The conversation keeps going and Carter chimes in. “You hit 25,000 steps yesterday. What the hell were you doing?” Carter pulls the tomatoes off his tacos as he watches me out of the corner of his eyes.

The Fitbit. Damn it. I forgot to take it off last night. Emily says casually, “New workout. She was at it all night.”

“Yeah.” I stuff a taco in my face and wish I had more food to hide behind. I need to get out of here before he starts asking questions. As it is, I think Emily knows.

She flashes a cool look my way and continues, “Next time you work out, bring me with you.” It’s a command, not open for rejection.

I hedge, “It’s not really a group thing.”

Her eyes flash and my stomach sinks. She knows. She has to know, but if she did then she’d be in my face about Nate being a professor. She’d hate me. Maybe she hasn’t figured it out after all. “Since when is an exercise class not a group thing?”

“Well, I meant they don’t have any more openings.” I start collecting my tray, throwing my utensils on top of my plate, and slip my fingers under the tray preparing to stand. “I need to run.”

“Where’s it at?” Emily presses.

I’m standing now and about to walk away from the table. “I don’t have the address. I’ll grab it for you later, okay?”

Carter picks up his phone and speaks while his eyes are glued to the screen. “I can grab the address for you. Kerry, just open the—” his voice trails off as he pushes buttons on the screen.

“I said I’ll get it later. Carter, stop—” But he doesn’t. I know what he’s going to see before he opens it.

The Fitbit has GPS.

It’s normally used to show which running path the wearer took and clocks miles when there’s vigorous movement. Carter set up the Fitbit so it would share everything with him. It was supposed to be for fun, to see who could take more steps. At least that’s what he said when he put the app on my phone and added me as his friend in the app. He’ll see everything. It’ll pinpoint Nate’s house and show wiggly purple lines all over his property. How the hell am I supposed to explain that?

Maybe he won’t know it’s Nate’s house. Maybe I can lie and say I was running on a treadmill for hours. That sounds plausible, assuming he’s never been to Nate’s house. Some teachers invite students over to their homes, usually at the end of the semester. I haven’t been here long enough to know if Nate is one of those types of professors.

Carter’s features turn stoic. Shit. He knows. His gaze lingers on the screen like he recognizes that address. His expression is lost in the middle, somewhere between regret and shock. The corners of his mouth turn up and he sports a plastic smile. “Oh yeah, that place. It’s the fitness center on the corner of Amarillo with all the new equipment.”

I stand there, stunned that he covers for me.

“Yeah, they’re open 24 hours.” I add to the lie, not thinking. I want Carter to face me, to say that he doesn’t blame me for seeing Nate. But that’s not the way it goes. Instead of anger, I get apathy. Surprisingly, it feels much worse.

Emily starts talking to the other guy and their conversation shifts toward other things. I linger with my tray in my hands, and then say softly, “Carter?”

“Yeah?” He doesn’t turn. He acts unaffected, continuing to shovel his lunch in his mouth.

“Can you walk with me? I wanted to ask you about something.” The pit of my stomach twists and the tacos aren’t sitting well.

“Yeah.” He grabs his tray and hauls ass across the cafeteria, dumping his tray of half-eaten food before exiting.

I follow him into the student center, and then outside into the quad. We walk along the bricked path for a while before I finally spit it out. “Why did you cover for me?”

He shrugs. Says nothing.

“Carter, I met him before I knew he was teaching here.”

“And you should have stopped when you realized there was a serious conflict of interest.” He turns toward me, stopping, his face flashing with alternating blasts of anger and disappointment.

“Weeks had passed by then. I thought he was a teaching assistant and he thought I was a model. He didn’t know what Dr. Jax did the first week of class—how I ended up modeling. Anyway, that’s over now. I’m not doing it anymore. Things can go back to the way they were.” I reach for his arm, but he glares at me. I drop my hand.

“Right, because that makes screwing the teacher more acceptable. It doesn’t affect your grades at all.” His voice is high as he hurls barbs at me, his hands flying through the air as he rants. “There’s no way he’d favor you after something like that. No man can compartmentalize that much, Kerry. If you want to whore your way to an early graduation, go ahead. Who am I to judge?”

Something inside me snaps. Nate’s the only shred of peace I’ve had since I stepped foot in this state, and there’s no way in Hell I’m going to let Carter piss on it. I plaster both palms on his chest and shove. “Hey! How dare you say that to me? I told you what happened and with everything else going on in my life—”

He cuts me off, “Oh, boo hoo. Suck it up, Kerry. Everyone has shit going on. You’re not the only one whose life got fucked up. You can’t blame other people for your problems and you sure as hell can’t cheat your way through college, not while I’m still breathing.”

I blanch. “Are you threatening me?”

“It’s not a threat. Break it off with Professor Smith or I’ll go straight to administration. He’ll be fired and you’ll get expelled.” Carter’s face is stone, completely devoid of emotion.

It feels like he’s reached into my chest and ripped out my lungs. I can’t breathe. “Carter, it’s not like that. We don’t have a relationship. We’re not dating.”

He rolls his eyes and laughs bitterly. “Got it. I was right the first time and it’s whoring around, is it?”

“No, you stupid, thoughtless ass! It’s my life and I don’t have to justify my actions to you!” I’m in his face, yelling. My hands fist at my sides and I don’t know where to put them. I want to strangle him, hit him, and make him be my friend again. Where did my Carter go? It’s like he was never there at all.

He clucks his tongue and shakes his head. He places his hand on my shoulder and steps in closer before saying softly, “That’s where you’re wrong. You have to make me believe you’ve earned every grade given to you by Nathan Smith without an ounce of doubt. If you don’t convince me, you’ll end up back where you started with your idiot mother and your ex-boyfriend who prefers the older sagging Kerry Hill model.”

Fire surges through my veins and propels my fist to draw back, and then fly forward. All the pain and fear of my mother’s affair is packed into that punch. Every ounce of betrayal, every last bit of doubt and self-loathing laces around each finger, making my fist stronger, urging my arm onward and pulling the weight of my body behind it.

When my knuckles connect with his jaw, Carter’s head swings to the side. Everything happens in seconds, but the movements inch by slowly as if suspended in time. As my fist drops, his eyes slide to meet mine.

Shock and hurt are apparent, but then his gaze becomes dull, lifeless. Carter acts like nothing happened. He straightens and looks down at me. “Like I said, if I see you at his house again, I’m reporting it. And keep the Fitbit on, Kerry, or I’ll head to the dean’s office right now.”

As I watch him walk away, anger gushes through me, but something milder is tempering it and keeping me from following him. I don’t know if it’s disappointment or the fact that I’m certain I’ve lost another friend, but it douses my rage until it’s barely an ember.