Chapter 17 – ANNA
17
ANNA
W hy was I curling my hair? The wind was just going to mess it up anyway. I freed the freshly spiraled lock of hair from the curler’s clamp, then surveyed my progress in the mirror. About three-fifths of my head was done already, might as well keep going.
It was so dark, he wouldn’t even notice.
Whatever, I wanted to look nice. It was a special occasion.
I sandwiched another lock of my hair between the heated prongs. I stared at my reflection, zeroing in on the spot where my nose met my cheek. I missed a spot. I put down the curler and looked through the mess of bottles, tubes, pencils, and pots on my vanity, knocking over the foundation I was looking for. The cylindrical bottle fell and rolled off the edge of the surface, taking a lip gloss and eyeliner tube with it.
“Come on ,” I sighed, sliding down to the ground and picking them up. Something caught on my curler, bringing it to the floor too, only before grazing my arm as it came down. I yelped, clambering back to my feet, knocking the vanity hard enough to knock down some more makeup. I snatched the curler off the ground where it landed way too close to the white plush carpet under my chair.
The red welt on my skin stung. I frowned, calling for Rosie. Moments later, she knocked, then poked her head into the door.
“Let me see.”
She turned off the curler before examining the damage. She tutted, telling me to wait. When she reappeared, she had the little first aid kit she kept in the kitchen. She led me to the bathroom and instructed me to hold my arm under cold water for a while.
She rifled through the kit for the Neosporin while I frowned at my reflection. The makeup was… fine. The hair was going to have to change. I looked at the water flowing over my scalded skin. All this just to have sex for the first time?
“Where are you headed tonight?” Rosie asked, coming over and turning the water off.
“Uh, nowhere. I was just trying out the curler.”
“Right before bed?” she asked, dabbing me dry with a hand towel. I shrugged, ignoring the heat in my cheeks.
“I wanted to see how it worked. It’s new.”
It wasn’t.
“The make-up too?” she asked.
“Umm.” I squeaked.
She motioned at my face.
“Are you trying out the makeup too?”
My face bloomed bright red. Why did I even try lying to her? I felt like I had to do it because I didn’t like to disappoint her but if she knew the truth anyway, what was the point?
“I… uh … I just haven’t washed it off yet. I wanted to head out to Summer’s house but I changed my mind so I’m just gonna wash it off before bed.”
“ Hm ,” she grunted, with a twinkle in her eye. She knew. She always knew. She never called me on it, but she always knew.
She put a thick coat of Neosporin on the burn and wrapped it loosely in gauze, telling me not to touch it. I thanked her and she left the room, allowing me to keep pretending that I wasn’t going to sneak out later to have sex with Carter.
I shuffled back to my vanity and slumped in the seat, wondering what now?
Was this an omen?
Abort mission.
The planets weren’t aligned.
It was a warning.
I was going to go out there tonight and embarrass myself.
Bad sex doesn’t exist for guys. There’s literally no way to mess it up , if Summer was to be believed. It wasn’t like I could argue with her. She was the one who’d lost her virginity last year. I fixed my foundation in the mirror.
Tonight was the night. I wanted to do this with him. We’d kissed. He had felt… stuff , over my clothes but we never really went further. Carter was happy to wait. In fact, he preferred it. Even said it shouldn’t be him. It should be someone else. Someone better for me. Softer. Someone I wouldn’t regret.
It was why he never pushed things, but I didn’t want to wait anymore.
Want wasn’t the right word. I couldn’t wait anymore. It was like I was burning every time I was with him. Burning and aching and just barely able to stop myself from begging him to take me.
Which was exactly what I planned to do tonight.
He couldn’t say no.
Summer said they never said no.
I finished my hair and makeup, then waited until the lights went out downstairs, before escaping out of my window and texting Carter to tell him I was on the way.
I ran out onto the beach, my blood buzzing and doubts rushing in only to be scattered by the wind.
Kicking my feet through the sand, I walked until I made out Carter’s form down the beach. I sped up, working my way to a full on sprint with a laugh on my lips as he beckoned me forward.
I barreled into him, knocking him back a step as I wrapped my arms around his middle and pressed my face into his shirt, realizing too late that all the work I did in the mirror probably just got ruined.
Couldn’t remember why I cared.
Carter wouldn’t.
He dropped the blanket that was under his arm. The one he almost always brought for us to lie on and watch the waves.
“Whoa,” he said, pulling me back to arm’s length to get a look at my face. “What’s the occasion? You look…”
“I know. I totally overdid it.”
He moved his warm hands to my face, dragging me in for a kiss that I felt all the way to my bare toes curling in the sand.
“I was going to say beautiful.”
He chuckled, pulling me in so our bodies were flush again. He smelled faintly of sea salt and heady musk and that thing that was just Carter . Like if warmth could be captured in a bottle and sold.
I ran my fingers through the messy mop of dark brown curls on his head. He had enviable natural waves that I’d burned myself tonight trying to mimic.
“Is there a reason you’re all…” he trailed off, gesturing to all of me when I pulled away. I shrugged, playing coy.
“Can’t I just be excited to see you?” I asked.
He laughed. He was in a good mood tonight. Good. He lived in a warzone at home so I did whatever I could to get a smile on his face. We spread the blanket on the sand and stretched out on it side by side. I rested my head on his chest. His t-shirt was soft and faded. I listened to the rhythmic thud of his heart.
“How’s your mom today?”
He sucked a deep breath into his lungs, swelling his chest.
“Not better but not worse either,” he said.
“That’s… good right?”
His hand snaked into my hair, fingertips stroking over my scalp.
“I don’t know anymore. It’s so fucked up. I don’t know what to do.”
I bit my lip. I’d been thinking about asking my father to do something but that would be difficult considering my father didn’t even know Carter existed.
Carter’s mom had been sick for months. Cervical cancer. The hospital bills were so high, they’d be buried under them any day now. As if that wasn’t enough, his father was responsible for the reason why he didn’t want to take his shirt off the first night we went swimming.
I’d seen them now. The bruises. The scars.
He took the abuse from his father so that the bastard would spare his mother. He’d always done it, got in between them, but now more than ever he refused to let the piece of shit touch her. She was too weak. Too fragile as her illness grew inside her.
I ached for him. It hurt so much to see him hurting.
He didn’t know it yet, but I’d been working to put money away. Little bits here and there withdrawn from Daddy’s credit card, stuffed under my mattress. When I had enough to make a difference, I’d make him take it.
Then he wouldn’t have to work so much and his mom could get more of the treatment she desperately needed. As it was, I knew after this round of chemo, they wouldn’t be able to afford the next one.
“Carter?” I prodded when he didn’t reply.
“I mean, yeah. I’m glad she’s feeling all right, but I know it won’t last,” he said.
“Don’t say that.”
He sighed into the wind.
“Do you think the cops have let your dad out yet?”
They always did when he inevitably found himself being belligerent at a bar and getting himself arrested and thrown in the drunk tank. Which was exactly where he’d wound up a couple days ago.
“Don’t know. Don’t care,” he said flatly.
He left after a fight two days ago. That night, he came to the beach with a busted lip and finger marks around his neck, his eyes bloodshot.
I’d been so terrified, I couldn’t sleep when I went home.
I begged him not to go back and he listened, staying with a friend, but I knew he would have to go home eventually. For his mom who despite everything refused to leave with him.
I’d never understand that.
My arm wrapped protectively around his middle and my eyes squeezed shut. I wanted to protect him.
I came from home every night, he came from his job waiting tables. Right after school, before he started at the restaurant, he had another job at a garage.
The last time I offered him money he had looked at me like I slapped him. But that was before his mom was diagnosed. Now, he might take it. I hoped he would take it.
“Let’s hope he stays there,” I said, knowing he wouldn’t. He never did.
“I’ve thought about that.”
I raised my head and looked at him.
“Thought about what?”
It was dark tonight so I could barely see him but I knew his brows were pulled down over his eyes. His lip curled when he talked about his father.
“I’ve thought about the day when the cops will show up at the house. Sometime I imagine they’ll come with a court summons that will put him behind bars for years or even for life.
Other times I imagine they’ll say some shit to my mom like, ‘We’re so sorry, ma’am, Frank Cole was found dead from an automobile accident. Looks like he was drinking.”
His throat bobbed and his chin shook as he said the next imagined line. “‘We’re going to need you to come identify the body’.”
My mouth fell open but I didn’t say anything. Frank Cole deserved to die a slow, painful death after what he had done to his son and wife. I didn’t want to admit it to myself or to Carter, but I’d imagined something similar. Or even just him leaving, abandoning them.
They’d be better off, even if it meant Carter had to kill himself working. At least there wouldn’t be someone hurting him every night when he dragged his tired feet home after a shift. And selfishly…then I wouldn’t need to worry so much about him.
“I’m really sorry. You don’t deserve what he’s done to you.”
“You sure?” he said, laughing darkly.
“Yes, I’m sure.” I leaned down and planted a kiss on his lips.
He was the first person I’d ever kissed and I was starting to think I’d be okay with it if he was the last one, too.
“You’re a good person, Carter Cole. No matter what that… asshole says.”
He raised his brows, a tiny teasing smirk on his lips. He always teased me for that—my inability to curse without blushing. I really meant it, though.
Frank Cole was more than an asshole. I didn’t think there was a bad enough word for what he was, but if I found it, I would say it without so much as a blink.
“I’m not as good as you make me out to be, Anna.”
I brushed his hair back. His eyes were a limpid, warmer shade of blue when it was bright enough to see the gold in them.
“You’re good to me .”
“That’s because I like you. I don’t like Frank.”
“Nobody likes him.”
“I want my own father to die. Who wants that kind of shit?”
“He deserves to die.”
I surprised myself with how strongly the words came out, without any doubt.
Carter looked away.
“You don’t get it. I want it to hurt ,” he said as if pushing the words past some dam he used to keep them hedged in.
“When he’s dying, in pain, I want him to think about everything he did to me and my ma. I want his last moments on earth to be his worst.”
A chill ran over me.
He’d never said anything like this before. Hinted at it, but admitting it out loud…
I could see he meant it.
And I didn’t know how I was supposed to feel.
No, wait. Carter’s words from another night replayed in my mind. He was talking about something else, but they rang true now all the same.
Don’t think about how you’re supposed to feel, Anna. Just feel how you want to.
It didn’t bother me, I realized. In fact, I hoped Frank died badly, too, even if that made me more of a bad person than I ever believed I could be.
I thought about the thick scars that were scattered across Carter’s chest and back. They were too random to have come from an accident. They were scars because Frank liked to test how hot the fireplace poker was on his body.
That dark laugh again. “Fuck. Maybe I’m more like him than I thought.”
“You’re nothing like him,” I snapped.
He grimaced, hugging me close. “Let’s hope so.”
I felt his cool fingertips as his hands burrowed under my hoodie, wrapping around my waist. They lingered there for a long time. Both of us listening to the sounds of the sea washing over the shore, just being here. In this moment. Away from the vastly different circles of hell we resided in.
Soon, his touch turned from light and thoughtful to something else. He slipped his palm against my skin, gripping my waist until I felt him shudder.
I took the invitation to throw my leg over him, straddling his body. He was long and lean. His arms muscular from his mechanic job.
“What are you doing?” He cocked his head, staring up at me with banked coals in his stare and tension in his jaw. I could feel him beneath me. That hardness through his dark denim jeans.
I angled my hips to grind into him, rolling them over the bulge with my lower lip caught between my teeth.
A small sound escaped his mouth and his hands tightened around my waist.
“ Anna, you shouldn’t?—”
“I…”
He looked up at me with a question in his eyes.
“I-I brought condoms.”
He stared at me, silent. Was that horror in his stare?
My mouth went dry, but I stayed where I was.
They never say no.
“I want it to be you.”
“You shouldn’t.”
My brows knitted. This wasn’t what he was meant to say. He was meant to rip my clothes off and ravish me. My confidence began to fall like a plane shot out of the sky, spiraling down, down, down.
“Well, I do. I’ve thought about it,” I swallowed. “A lot.”
His jaw clenched.
“I can’t take it back if you change your mind.”
The coals in his stare turned to straight fire.
He wasn’t going to deny me. I could tell. I just needed to push him a little more. A little harder.
I settled heavier against his erection, making my skirt bunch up around my hip as my satin panties pressed against him, making his fingers dig harder into my waist.
“ Fuck, Anna,” he hissed, throwing his head back.
I grinned wickedly.
“If you don’t want me, then just say it,” I pressed, giving my hips another roll that made his legs shift, pressing into the sand beneath the blanket.
“Stop doing that,” he said between his teeth, and something in his tone brought me out of the haze of my lust. I froze.
“I thought… you really don’t want to…oh my god, just—just forget I said anything.”
Tears stung my eyes as I moved to get off him, already knowing I might never recover from this, but he didn’t let me move more than an inch, holding me in place.
“Before,” Carter blurted, staring at me with a madness in his gaze bordering on insanity. “Before, you said you wanted to wait. You said you wanted to save yourself?—”
“Forget what I said. I changed my mind.”
He groaned, shutting his eyes to take a long breath before he opened them to speak again.
“Anna Vaughn, if you think for one fucking second I don’t want you, you are criminally insane.”
My stomach flipped, coming alive with that feeling only Carter could provoke.
“But if we’re doing this, I want you to enjoy it. I want to give you something better than this .” he motioned to the beach.
I thought sex on the beach at night was romantic, not that I’d ever tried it. I’d never thought it was a big deal before. And we’d only ever seen one other person out here this late in all these months. No one would see us. No one would know.
“What about if we tried…”
“What?” he asked.
I want to give you a blowjob sounded horrible in my head. Childish.
It would sound worse out loud.
Carter followed my gaze and seemed to pick up on what I was asking. I’d touched him, but I’d never tasted him, and right now the thought of trying made my mouth water and my skin prickle with nerves.
“Do you know how?”
I shook my head. “But I want to do it.”
He held my gaze for a long time.
“I’ll tell you what to do,” he said finally. “But I get to taste you first.”