8. Nick
8
NICK
T iff: You’re not trying hard enough.
I rolled my eyes at my stepsister’s text.
Nick: Give me a little time.
Tiff: I don’t have time. She got the highest score on another exam.
Tiff: I said ruin her, Nick. Not play with her.
It almost felt like I was playing a game with Sabrina. So far, no matter what I did, that gorgeous, curvy brunette wouldn’t crack. She had to have a spine of steel or something else that would infuse her to be so chill about all that I’d tried.
She didn’t cry or shrink out of sight when I started to bully her on social media, pretending that she was the one at that wet T-shirt contest.
She stayed patient and impassive, barely looking at me when I got in lines ahead of her and generally tried to make her late.
She didn’t shout or fight back when I pushed her in the hallways or tripped her outside.
Even today, when I practically dumped her shit into the fountain, she stood up to me stone-faced and unaffected, refusing to act like I’d ruined her day.
Then again, Tiffany told me to ruin her , not ruin her day.
While the idea of going further and harder to get a rise out of Sabrina excited me, I had to be careful that I kept my goals in sight.
I wasn’t pursuing her as a hot girl who was playing hard to get.
She was my assignment. She was the object of this ultimatum.
I had to ruin her and weaken her chances of getting that internship in order to keep Tiffany from telling George about my mother’s infidelity.
Reaching the mansion, I decided to confront her about that matter right the fuck now. I wouldn’t be a “coward” and avoid talking about hard things with my mom. On his deathbed, my dad asked me to look out for her, and I would. I wouldn’t be a coward and stay away from meddling in the complicated and confusing issue of mental health with my mom.
I ran inside and sought her in the library she preferred in the afternoons. It was either here or the gym. And as luck would have it, she was exiting the huge room full of books as I got to it.
“Nick? What’s the rush?” She raised her brows, then frowned. “Is something wrong?”
“Yeah. You.” I tried to urge her back into the room, but she wouldn’t budge from the hallway.
“ Me ?”
I nodded, not reacting to her surprise. “You’ve been acting weird lately.”
I didn’t want to come right out and accuse her of cheating on George. At least, not in the hallway where the housekeepers could hear. Besides, if Tiffany found out that I was trying to solve this at the source, instead of ruining Sabrina for her, she might tell George anyway.
“I’m not acting weird ,” she said, frowning as she dismissed me.
“Mom, you’re?—”
“No, Nick. I’m not in the mood to get a third degree from you about how I live my life.” She furrowed her brow, pausing in walking away. “I don’t get on your case for how you live yours, partying and acting like you’ll be young and without responsibilities forever.”
“I’m not—” I growled, advancing after her.
“You’re scared to move on in any way. You want to keep your life on hold and screw around.” She shrugged. “So go ahead. I’m not stopping you if that’s what you want.”
“Mom!”
She shook her head, striding away and leaving me more pissed than ever. She’d always been so difficult to approach about her tendency to get stuck in depressive streaks like this. For so long, my dad had to stay firm and encourage her to try the medication her doctors suggested. I had yet to figure out how to be that support system in his absence.
How dare she act like I was being ridiculous?
She’d always had a tendency to stay in denial about her depression, but to project her issues on me? That wasn’t cool. Not at all.
I headed to my room, too full of fury to chase after her again. She had the gall to cheat on George—she would bite the hand that feeds—and it would ruin my life alongside hers. Without George, we’d have nothing. We’d be nothing. Just two grieving, lost souls after the loss of the person who had been the glue to our family.
Too scared to move on.
I gritted my teeth, pushing my door open until it slammed and hit the wall.
Fuck that.
I wasn’t too scared to move on after Dad’s death.
I just had no goddamn clue what to move on to. Where to go. What to do. Losing Dad had somehow warped and twisted my whole identity, and I’d be damned if she tried to call me a coward too.
The next night, when I got out of the pool from an evening swim by myself, I dreaded that George wanted to talk to me about the same damn thing.
He seldom approached me directly like this. But when he had that serious expression on his face, I knew he was expecting a conversation with me.
“Nick, can we chat?” he asked as he sat in a chair he pulled out from a table on the patio.
It’s not like I have a fucking choice, huh?
I sighed, grabbing a towel. “Sure. What’s up?”
Don’t bite the hand that feeds.
Don’t fuck up your life any more than it already is.
“I wanted to see if you’ve given any more thought to your future.” He splayed his hands out, almost like a laidback shrug.
Fuck me now.
I sighed, standing behind a chair instead of dropping into it. Gripping the back of it tightly, I reined in my temper. My anger had no damn outlet anymore. The only time I felt more balanced was when I poked and prodded at Sabrina, teasing and taunting her to make Tiffany think I was trying to ruin her and humiliate her. Listening to George pontify on how I was going nowhere with my life wasn’t going to help.
“No, George,” I bit out. “I really fucking haven’t.”
Without giving him a chance to reply or lecture, or anything else, I stormed off and left.
I couldn’t stay here and listen to him tell me how I was wasting my time in college. I didn’t want to hang around where my mom would try to insist that all was well.
After I showered and dressed, I got on my bike and rode around until my head was clearer.
Something about the hard rev of the engine beneath me and the feel of the ocean air rushing at my face soothed my soul. It wouldn’t fix me. Nothing would anymore.
But riding my bike without any destination in mind almost tricked me into thinking I wasn’t wasting away. That instead of being stuck, I had a blank canvas to fill in.
Hours passed, and eventually, I slowed down in a poorer side of town. To my right, the Gulf offered waves and the warm, balmy breeze I’d never tire of.
Once I stopped my bike completely and straddled it near a small park with a busy playground full of kids, I sniffed and felt my stomach clench with hunger. I’d planned to eat after my swim, but that was hours ago.
I was starving now, and the rich scents from a taco truck lured me off my bike.
Ignoring the signs that said the food truck was there as a fundraiser for the food bank it was parked in front of, I got in line to get something that would no doubt be more flavorful than anything in a restaurant around here.
As I waited, I scanned my surroundings, smirking in surprise when I spotted none other than Sabrina fucking Rosario back there. She was in the garage with the open door that offered people to come get containers of food from the bank.
She was right there.
Smiling. Laughing. At ease and so relaxed that I had to wonder if she had a clone.
But it was her.
Not in a blouse and skirt, trying to fit in as a professional and a serious, dutiful law student.
Not in grungier, casual clothes as she tiredly trekked to the library for a late night of research.
I’d only ever seen her on campus. Tense. Polite. So rigid and proper and obedient.
Here, in a white tank top that contrasted with her smooth, golden skin and short denim shorts that showed how slender her legs were, she looked… normal.
Fuck.
I realized with a sucker punch to the gut that she looked happy .
Someone cleared their throat behind me, prompting me to move up in line. I was so stuck on Sabrina that I hadn’t paid attention to the line moving at all.
Sabrina was joking around and grinning at two older people. They had to be her parents, Melody and John Rosario, from what I’d learned after snooping for information about her online. They resembled each other. The way she’d hug her mom and rest her cheek on her dad’s shoulder demonstrated how close of a family unit they were.
Of course, she’d be volunteering at a fucking food bank, like a freaking angel.
Sabrina was that good, or that much of a goody-two-shoes.
But I refused to believe this girl could do no wrong. The darkness in my heart warned me that she couldn’t be that sweet.
No one was that goddamn perfect.
However, as I watched her with her mom and dad, I fed the beast of envy burning hot deep inside me.
I used to fit in like that, with my mom and dad. We had all been happy and together once.
“Dude.” The guy behind me cleared his throat, urging me to move up in line. Again, I had been stuck on Sabrina.
Fuck it.
I was still starving.
But now I was hungry for something else.
It seemed I was more addicted to putting this girl down than I realized. The high I got from tormenting her made me a sick bastard, but at least it pulled me further out of my own bleak rut.
Stepping out of line, I gave up my spot for tacos and stalked toward her, intent on making her miserable in any way I could.
It was only fitting.
Misery loved company, after all.
And if she didn’t want my company… that was too damn bad.