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15
Carson
Ifully plan to go back to the boat to do my homework, then meet the guys at some charity event we RSVP’d for, back when we were still trying to make sure everyone important knew Tally wasn’t her sister. Only instead of going to the marina, I find myself handing my keys to the valet outside the Haywood Hotel.
Riding the elevator to the fourth floor I try not to think too hard about why I’m here. I already fucked her once today and her text said she was sick and not up for visitors, so why am I here instead of with my friends?
Honestly I don’t know. Maybe it’s because even though she’s a bitch, I sort of get it. I mean her parents are fucking awful and yeah Carrigan isn’t blameless, but when it counted, she did the right thing. Sometimes, I can almost believe there’s something good beneath the awful person she is, something more.
The elevator dings, heralding my arrival on her floor and I stride purposefully toward room 459, rapping my fist against the wooden door when I reach it. I knock again when she doesn’t answer. “Priss, open up.”
After a minute the door cracks and a rumpled looking Priss appears, peering around the gap. “Carson?”
“Yeah,” I say gruffly, pushing the door open and letting myself inside. The room is small, just a normal hotel room and nothing at all like I would have expected her to pick. Weirdly, Tally stayed in a similar room when she fled from her parent’s house too. “No suite?”
“Someone rented all the suites and the penthouses,” she says derisively with an annoyed shake of her head.
Closing the door behind me a smile spreads across my lips. Just when I’m assuming her and Tally are more similar than either of them realize, she shows me how different they are. She’s only wearing a white robe, her hair’s messy and her face is fresh and makeup free. She looks perfectly fuckable and my dick rises enthusiastically.
“What are you doing here Carson?” she asks, climbing back into the bed and pulling the covers up over her legs.
“I have no fucking clue,” I admit, lowering myself down onto the bed next to her, kicking my shoes off as I stretch out on top of the comforter.
For a second we just sit in strained silence, the rustling of the sheets as Priss fidgets is the only noise.
When she sighs, I turn and look at her, smiling at her consternated expression.
“Do you even like me?” she asks.
“Not particularly. Do you like me?”
“Not really,” she says, a faint smile ghosting across her lips.
“You okay?” I ask, shocking myself that I actually care.
“No. But that’s my problem, not yours.”
I don’t know why I do it, but I pull her into me, wrapping my arms around her while she rests her head on my chest. She doesn’t fight me, and although I’m sure she’d deny it if I asked, I swear I can feel the wetness of her tears on my shirt.
“I’ll order us room service,” I say after a while, carefully moving from beneath her and reaching for the phone. “Hi, can I get a bacon cheese burger, a chicken alfredo and two chocolate brownies with whipped cream please.” I say, then glance at Priss, “What do you want to drink?”
“A sparkling water please,” she says, her eyes a little wide.
“And a sparkling water and a beer please, whatever you have on draft. Thanks.” Placing the phone back onto the receiver I turn to look at her and smile.
“I can’t eat any of that,” she says, her voice laced with annoyance.
“Sure you can.”
“I’ll get fat.”
“Priss, you’re skin and bone, who the fuck told you that you’d get fat.”
“Everyone in modern society,” she says sardonically, flopping back against the pillows.
“And your fuckwit parents I’d guess. Seriously did you listen to everything they told you and just accept it as truth? You’re eighteen, it’s time to start thinking for yourself,” I snarl, frustrated that she’s so blinkered by their opinions.
“Fine, yes okay, they told me I’d get fat. My parents told me that I had to do things a certain way, so that’s what I did. That doesn’t make me an idiot, or maybe it does, but my life was a bit more complicated than most eighteen-year-olds,” she says, jumping up and putting the bed between us, her chest heaving up and down. “All I’ve thought about since the day I got that stupid letter from my great-grandfather is how I was going to make sure I got that money. All I’ve talked about is who I was going to marry. All I’ve lived and breathed is those godforsaken rules, so I’m sorry that you think I’m naive or stupid or whatever, maybe I am. But the only thing I’ve ever done that made me interesting and worthy and loved was having my name written into that will.”
