Caelyx
THE RIDE HOME was quick and mostly void of social interaction, like always.
Aspen never talked much in the car, and he usually cranked up the volume of the music to make it impossible for me to.
I could understand and respect it. A man’s car was kind of like his domain, a tiny space that he could rule over.
So if he wanted to assert his dominance by demanding silence for the handful of minutes between work and home, I’d let him.
Eventually I’d convince him to take a ride with me in my Porsche, and then he’d have to follow my rules. I’d brought it up here and there, but so far he’d only responded with a scoff and a firm no.
“Sorry, I just have this totally neurotic aversion to being dead.”
He’d told me that, even after I’d tried to convince him that I was a good driver.
He wasn’t having it. Avoiding death wasn’t his only totally neurotic aversion, far from it, but his high-strung personality was really cute.
And I might have been slightly obsessed with the idea of being the one to influence him flexing on some of those rigid rules and habits.
I realized I was grinning when he glanced over to me, the slight movement breaking me out of the bubble I’d been spacing out in.
He glared, the ring pierced through the tail end of his right eyebrow twitching, before snapping his gaze back to the road in front of us.
He had another small ring pierced through his septum, but he always tucked it up into his nose before we had a work shift, and he hadn’t flipped it back down yet.
I didn’t turn away from him, and I could tell he knew I was still staring when his black-lacquered fingernails started tapping an edgy, irritated beat on the steering wheel, but he didn’t comment.
This was our daily song and dance. I would spend the whole time trying to get his attention, and he’d spend the whole time pretending like I wasn’t succeeding.
I wasn’t delusional. I knew it wasn’t because he was harboring secret feelings for me or anything. It was because he didn’t trust me. He was always on edge around me, waiting for me to do something wrong, something he wouldn’t like.
It was something I’d kind of agonized over for months after we’d met through our mutual friends.
What had I done to deserve him looking at me like that?
Why did he treat me like I’d committed some terrible atrocity against him and his whole damn bloodline?
I’d eventually figured out it wasn’t me he hated, exactly.
It was the idea of me, the idea of wealth and privilege and skating through life on the merit of your family name.
Knowing that it was mostly impersonal had soothed my ego a bit, but it still sucked.
And why did I care so much what an eyeliner-wearing little Hot Topic gremlin thought of me?
What could I say? I had a crush. A big, fat, unrequited crush, like when I’d been in the first grade and liked a girl and all I’d known how to do was pull her pigtails on the playground.
Except now I was an adult and I was only interested in pulling Aspen’s hair if my cock was in his mouth.
And he thought I was a joke that he could barely trust to properly wipe a counter unsupervised.
Still, things were improving between us. The rate of progress was like moving through frozen molasses, but it was there. He didn’t like me, but he didn’t hate my guts either. Progress.
He pulled into my driveway, right next to my pretty red Porsche convertible, in the spot usually reserved for the grey Jeep that belonged to one of my two housemates. Cyprian was out with his sister, so it was a rare night we didn’t have the full group together.
I didn’t have to see Aspen’s face as he was getting out to know he was probably glaring at my car.
A chilly gust of wind ripped through the air, stirring his light brown bangs around his face before he tucked them aside.
Even something as mundane as that had my fingertips tingling, my heart stumbling a bit in my chest. I wanted to reach out and feel his hair, because it looked stupidly soft, but I was pretty sure if I tried, he’d gnash his teeth and chomp at my hand like a rabid dog.
I could already hear the hectic chaos of our friends inside as we walked up to the front door and pushed our way in.
Our pastries were divvied up and devoured alongside a massive bowl of extra buttery popcorn, while a gory and violent horror movie streamed on the TV. The usual.
Because Arie was usually the one who organized these little hangouts, he was also the one who chose the movie, which almost always culminated in us sitting around watching people get murdered.
Given that most days he looked like he could be employee of the month at Femboy Hooters, I wouldn’t have expected his movie tastes to be quite so bloodthirsty, but none of us really minded.
And he’d mentioned choosing this movie specifically, for reasons he planned on revealing after it was done.
As yet another high school football player was snatched up from the cornfield by a winged demon and carried away to his inevitable doom, I subtly glanced around the room at most of the people who’d become the center of my narrow little world since enrolling at Byron Bay University.
My dad had destroyed my credit cards, revoked my access to his bank accounts, and kicked me out of the only home I’d ever known, threatening that it would be a permanent arrangement if I didn’t show him I could at least hack it in the real world enough for a college degree.
I had a trust fund sitting around with enough money to last me several lifetimes, accruing more and more interest every day, but I wouldn’t be able to get into it until I was 21, and that was over a year away.
And I wouldn’t even have my degree by then anyway, so I wasn’t totally confident that he would even let me crack into it.
It would be mine legally, but I wouldn’t put it past him to figure out some way to keep it from me until he deemed me worthy and responsible enough.
The sad thing was, he’d pretty much been right about everything.
I’d had absolutely no fucking clue what living on my own would be like.
He was still paying my tuition, but nothing else.
I’d ended up having to sell a lot of my nice stuff, a couple of watches and some designer pieces I hadn’t wanted to let go of.
The thought of selling my Porsche had started haunting me like a waking nightmare, but if it hadn’t been for Maddox pushing Ren to convince Aspen to vouch for me at Common Grounds, I wouldn’t have had a choice.
At least for now, my beloved car was safe.
And truthfully, if it wasn’t for the group of friends I’d luckily stumbled into, especially Maddox and Cyprian, I would probably be dead in a ditch somewhere.
That didn’t mean I was going to get all mushy and heartfelt and let them all know how important to my wellbeing and happiness they were or anything.
Maddox noticed me looking in his direction and pulled his hand off his boyfriend’s chest long enough to stick up his middle finger at me, his eyes sending off a clear avert your eyes message.
Opening my mouth and letting my tongue hang out, I silently brought my hand up to my face and mimed giving a blowjob before jerking my chin down toward my crotch.
He tilted his head, popping up an eyebrow before mouthing you wish in response to my suggestion.
Shrugging my shoulders, I blinked innocently at him.
Ren finally seemed to notice the pseudo-conversation going on between us, giving Maddox a questioning look.
Maddox rolled his eyes at me briefly before giving Ren a kiss and snuggling back against him as he directed his attention back to the TV.
Ren gave him a soppy, lovesick look before shifting back into their cuddly position.
They’d started dating the year before, in the always entertaining ritual of wait, I like guys?
Maddox Holmes was a fitness-obsessed jock, having played basically every sport known to mankind, while Ren Suzuki was a brainy, if somewhat awkward, computer geek.
They should have meshed together as well as orange juice and toothpaste, especially considering Maddox’s mood could only be described as perpetually bitchy and Ren was about as easygoing as one could be, but they’d become pretty much inseparable.
I might have called them attached at the hip, but in truth they were usually attached via Ren’s dick.
We all jerked, startled, at a particularly shocking jump scare.
Except Arie, who only chuckled in a sadistic, victorious kind of way.
He loved when his chosen movies scared the shit out of any of us.
Arie Becker was like a pink-haired, glittery little devil.
And similar to Ren and Maddox, he was in a surprisingly odd couple with Che Arroyo, who had to be the sweetest, shyest, and gentlest human being alive.
When the movie was done, because the whole football team had been ripped to shreds in one way or another, Arie stood up from his spot on the couch.
“So,” he started, in his always the center of attention sort of way.
“The reason I picked this movie tonight is because…” He paused for dramatic effect.
“Next weekend we’re all going to a party.
In a cornfield,” he added, and then gestured to the TV like we needed a visual reminder of the connection.
“Is there going to be a flying monster who rips all our heads off and eats our organs?” Maddox asked flatly.
He and Ren usually skipped the parties the rest of us went to, though not always.
Then again, I might not have cared much about socializing either, if I was already cozily tucked into the domestic bliss of comfortable companionship and constant dick riding.
I couldn’t help but feel a little jealous.