Chapter 7
MARK
Icling to Tim. I don’t want to, but I’ve never been on a motorcycle before, so I’m scared as fuck that if I don’t, I’ll fall off.
Why did I drink so much? Why didn’t I just leave? Or tell Greg and Morgan to fuck off? Or do anything other than ask this asshole for a ride?
I was desperate, and it was nice of him to help me out of the jam, but I can’t forget what he did to Keith. He was nice to him. They hung out. He led him on. And Keith isn’t the only guy he’s done that to.
Is that what he wants to do with me?
I won’t fall for it. And it seems that in my wasted state, I’m more determined than usual not to fall for his more charming qualities—like the heroism he just displayed. I see it for what it is: an opportunity to fuck me again. And any guy who would fuck me in this state is a bastard.
About ten minutes pass before we pull into a driveway and park beside a minivan.
His parents’ place?
He hops off the bike and helps me dismount.
I’m even worse than at the house party. I stumble as he guides me along the walkway to the house. Everything appears to be shaking around me. I keep muttering a slurred, “I’m fine,” as though I don’t need his help, even though I clearly do.
He helps me to the front door of the one-story house.
What I can see in the streetlight reveals weeds growing in the front yard and bushes with gaps in their branches running alongside the walls.
This isn’t like the Governor’s Mansion, with a small fleet of staff constantly working to keep the yard looking pristine.
Tim retrieves a key and opens the front door.
“Watch this first step,” he says, which I still stumble over. I can’t tell if it’s because I hit it or because I’m hardly able to walk straight.
He flips on a light and guides me through a living room into a kitchen.
He turns on another light. Bright fluorescents.
His plan’s working. He brought me here for sex, I know it. Although, at this point, I don’t care. Better to end up fucking him again than staying back at Brody’s place with those douchebags.
I rest my hands on a counter that runs around the kitchen, taking deep breaths, trying to steady my vision, which wobbles all around me.
Tim pulls a glass out of a nearby cabinet and fills it with water at the sink.
He hands it to me. “Drink up. You’re gonna need it.”
I start to drink, but then the glass slips out of my hand and crashes on the linoleum floor.
“Fuck,” I say.
“Shit, shit, shit.”
He hurries to a closet beside the fridge and pulls out a broom and dustpan.
“Oh, no. I’m sorry. No, I’ll get it.”
I start to take the broom from him when I hear, “Tim?!”
It’s a woman’s voice.
His mom?
“It’s fine, Nanna. I have a visitor.”
He pulls the broom from my grip and heads back to my mess.
He leans down and pats the water with a towel before sweeping the glass into the dustpan.
I keep apologizing, but he doesn’t respond. I must sound so fucking annoying right now—something I point out one too many times.
He sets the glass-filled dustpan on the counter and puts the broom in the closet. When he comes back out, he carries a shoe box, which he dispenses the glass into before taking it back to the closet. I guess he’ll deal with it later.
“Come on, drunkie,” he says.
He grips my arm and guides me through the house.
I don’t resist as he pulls me through a short hallway, into a bedroom.
This is where it happens. He wants to fuck me with his nanna in the house? God, this guy is a dirty fuck. At this point, though, I’ll do anything to sleep in a bed. I just need to lay down so the room will stop spinning.
With the lights off, the room is only illuminated by an orange glow that spills in through the window onto the wall opposite his door.
An unmade bed is pushed up against the far corner of the room. He closes the door and leads me to the bed, and as I think I’m getting into it, my feet slip out from under me.
It takes me a moment to realize Tim’s lifted me up. Effortlessly.
He lies me across the bed and pulls the covers up over me.
“Is that it?” I ask.
“What?”
“You don’t want to fuck me?”
He smirks. “I don’t think that would work out very well right now, do you?”
“I guess not.”
Now I’m kind of upset.
“You don’t want to fuck me anymore?”
He rolls his eyes and crawls over me on the bed.
He lies on the opposite side of me, closest to the window.
I assume he’s ignoring my question because he’s not interested in hooking up with me again, which for some reason, makes me sad.
Considering how hot our past two fucks have been, I figured he would have at least wanted one more roll in the sack.
“Goodnight, Mark.”
Oh my God. I want to cry right now.
It’s just because you’re drunk that you give this many shits.
I take deep breaths to collect myself, hoping the room will stop spinning soon.
But the room keeps moving like I’m on a carousel.
“You’re such a fucking asshole,” I tell him.
“You’re telling the guy who brought you back to his place and saved you from facing your cheating ex he’s an asshole?”
“I know what you did to Keith. I know how you led him on.”
“He knew what we were doing.”
“And you knew what he wanted.”
Silence.
He knows I’m right. He must. Keith isn’t a subtle guy. And he sure as fuck wasn’t subtle about his feelings for Tim.
“You’re right, but is it my problem if he wanted more than what I told him I could give him?”
I don’t have a comeback. I’d like to think if I was sober, I’d have something smart to say.
He props himself up on his arm. I can just see his silhouette.
As he lies there, a dark figure before me, I know he’s a demon—a cruel, sadistic creature that lies and manipulates. He’s cunning. He didn’t bring me back here out of the goodness of his heart, but to deceive me the way he deceived Keith. And I won’t let that happen.
I roll over to face him. “And you don’t care about how much you hurt him?”
“I honestly didn’t know how much he cared until it was over. When he started getting weird. Like texting all the time and coming up to chat with me at like every party we both happened to be at one night…which happened way too much for a while there.”
“But it’s not just Keith, and you know it. I can name two other guys who you did this to last year.”
“You rich kids think you’re entitled to everything. Even other people. Especially if they’re beneath you.”
“What?”
“I’ve seen you guys. Hooked up with plenty of you to know the moment you want something, you think it belongs to you already because you’re so used to getting exactly what you want.
And when you can’t have one thing in this world, it drives you nutty.
Makes your whole world crash down around you because that’s something you don’t get, is it? ”
“You don’t know anything about me.”
“Everyone knows about you. You’re the governor’s son.”
“Meaning people know even less than they realize.”
“Sure. Okay. Just go to bed, please.”
There’s no point fighting him while I’m like this. I’ll lose. And if Mom’s taught me anything, it’s that losing isn’t an option.
I close my eyes. The room is still moving.
And then, a powerful sensation rushes through me.
Shit.
I roll over and hop off the bed just in time to spew vomit across the floor before me.
Shitty shit shits.