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“And here I thought you were my good girl.” He buries his hand in my locks, yanking my head back so he can look into my eyes.
“I can be a good girl.” I drop to my knees in front of him, on the shower floor, and look up at him before asking, “Cal? Did you ever think that I was actually the one ruining you?” before swallowing his cock.
Chapter Three
“Fuck off.” I wake to a knock on the door, wanting nothing more than to ignore it, but I know I can’t.
“Cal?” His side of the bed is cold, and I sit up, suddenly more worried about him. I pull on a pair of shorts and one of Cal’s white under-tanks, forgoing a bra and panties. Fuck it, I’m on vacation for the next week. Another knock at the door reminds me that there is an asshole on my porch at ungodly a.m. Oh wait, it’s noon. Still though. Fuck off.
“Calden?” I call out, dragging my dead ass to the front door to stab whoever keeps fucking knocking. “Cal? Guess I’ll handle this shit then.”
“What?” I yank the door open with a pissed-off huff. “Aaron? What the actual fuck are you doing here?”
“I –” He looks genuinely startled. “I – did I wake you? Alara, it’s, like –” He takes out his phone and adds, “Noon.”
“Cool. Did you come all the way over here to let me know what time it is, or…” I trail off, looking at him like he’s a total fucking douche. It’s too early for maybes. He woke me up, so today he’s a douche.
“No.” He looks me up and down but shakes his head and then meets my eyes. Is this guy attempting to respect me? Hard pass. “Honestly, Alara, I wanted to come over here and apologize. I think we started out on the wrong foot. And I wanted to see if you would agree to a do-over.”
“I’ve known you since kindergarten, Aaron,” I deadpan. Is this guy a sociopath? Who does this kind of shit out of the blue? Guests are by appointment only, my insides feel like TV static and I want to peel off my own skin just to make it fit properly.
“I know that. I just –” He rubs the back of his neck, looking as genuinely uncomfortable as I feel inside. “Can I be completely honest with you?”
“Because everything else you’ve ever said to me is bullshit?” I snort, motioning to a couple of chairs on the porch. If I don’t get off my feet, I may run back inside. “Sit. You can say what you need to say in order for you to get the fuck off of my porch, but I need to close the door before you wake my father.”
“How is your father, by the way?” He sits in the lower of the two chairs, facing the street, but keeps his eyes on me. “I haven’t seen him out in town in a while.”
“He’s fine.” I press my lips together tightly as I turn the knob and pull the door closed, taking a deep breath before walking over and dropping into one of the two remaining seats.
“Remember when he coached our soccer team?” He chuckles. “My dad swore up and down he didn’t even know the rules.”
“Fuck off. It’s not like anyone else was fucking volunteering. This is the kind of shit that –”
“Whoa.” He holds up both hands. “I didn’t mean it as an insult. Honestly, I didn’t. The guys and I talk about it from time to time, especially after a really rough day with Coach. Your dad was a blast, and it didn’t hurt that his technique drove everyone else's parents insane. Especially when he threw out the planner the PTA harpies put together for him.” He clears his throat and purses his lips the way my father used to when he was trying to get a rile out of other parents. “They are children with a ball and a net in an open field, and your rules are killing the fun. Fun killers.”
“Fun killers.” I smirk. “God, he hates literally every other parent at the school. The man sure can hold a grudge. It’s impressive, really.”
“He’s always been kind to me.” He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Calden and I have been in more fist fights than we have conversations, but your dad never held it against me.”
“Yeah, well, sometimes words aren’t enough.” I sigh, looking up and down the street for Cal. “And if Cal sees you here, he won’t even consider using his words. So while this trip down memory lane has been… weird as fuck… get to your point.”
“You never have been one for pleasantries and small talk, have you?” He offers me a small smile, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, Alara. We used to be friends. Do you remember?”
“What can I say – younger me made poor choices in the friends department?” I sneer, remembering exactly what ended our friendship. “Because I did. I should have never trusted you.”
“You’re right.” He moves like he’s going to take my hand in his but doesn’t, and it’s a good thing he didn’t touch me. I’m not sure our local ER has the skills necessary to remove his entire arm from his ass and reattach it.
“Okay, this is weird.” I study him for a moment. He’s nervous but relaxed, and it’s making me more uncomfortable than I like to admit. “You’re being weird, and it’s freaking me out. Are you on drugs? Did someone die? Am I… am I being recorded? What’s your MO, Aaron?”
“My MO?” He laughs. The audacity. The look on my face tells him I’m not joking, and the smile falls from his face. “That’s fair, actually. I’m sorry.”
“You said that already.” I lift my right hand to my left collarbone and tap my index finger against the bone.
“I didn’t mean to make you anxious.” He purses his lips, looking at the cluster of slight bruises along my collarbone. He drags his hand through his hair, shifting a little in his seat. “I called my mother last night.”
“Shit.” I can feel my eyes widen in surprise. “How long has it been?”
“Before last night?” He exhales shakily. “Three years.”
