18. Nick
18
NICK
W hen I came back to the living room in the pool house, I wasn’t surprised that Sabrina had taken off. She was that determined to stick to what she thought was right. All logic and resistance hadn’t mattered when I showed her that she was, in fact, wrong about me.
I was still a jerk.
And she wouldn’t be smart to trust me.
Those facts remained the same. But I had proved her wrong about how much she desired me. It turned out that the line between lust and loathing could be really thin. And we’d crossed it.
What also remained the same was that I had to target her. I couldn’t renege on this deal with Tiffany.
As I cleaned up from taking her virginity, I stood at the wide windows of the pool house and watched her go.
Of course, she’d take off. She had to be upset that she’d surrendered.
I bet she was pissed that I’d “won” in this mutual hating game we had going on.
I hadn’t counted on her being that much of a good girl, though. I was surprised that she hadn’t had sex yet, but it didn’t change anything about what would have to happen next. Instead of comforting her or trying to be gentle after the fact, I had to go back to bullying her somehow.
Tiffany wanted me to ruin her.
Now that I’d had the pleasure of having Sabrina wrapped around me and gloving me so well, it killed me to think of taking advantage of her like I just did—again.
I’d won. I got close. I finally made her crack.
So why did it feel like I was losing?
I headed back inside the main house, glad that the mansion was more or less empty from the dinner and meeting George had earlier. I needed the solitude. I didn’t want to talk to anyone until I could make sense of the mess in my head.
I wouldn’t even try to delude myself into thinking it was just sex.
It felt like so much more, and from her perspective, it was more than an ordinary quickie. Sabrina was supposed to be forbidden. Off-limits. And she’d given me her V-card.
Hours later, as I lay in bed and stared at the ceiling, I struggled with how drastically things had to change between me and Sabrina now.
How would I face her?
How could I handle both sides of what had to happen?
I’d have to put on a good show for Tiffany to make her think that I was trying to ruin Sabrina’s reputation. But I couldn’t get past the new realization that I didn’t want to. All I wanted was… her. Once was not enough.
The next day, I woke up so glad it was the weekend. I wouldn’t bother going on campus. I had nothing to do but wait for the last remnants of this storm to pass over so I could get in the pool.
Swimming was all I could look forward to in terms of venting this frustration that had settled in me. Perhaps moving my body and burning my muscles would tire me out to rest, because the turmoil that stayed within me had me suffering from a shitty, restless night of sleep.
I had to move. I had to let out some of this anger and antsy feelings of being more stuck than before.
On my way to the pool, though, I spotted my mom sitting at the island in the kitchen.
With her head down, her face toward her phone, she kept glancing up and jerking around as if she worried someone could see her on the device.
As if she was concerned that someone would catch her in the act of looking at something not meant for anyone else’s eyes.
Or talking to someone she shouldn’t.
Goddammit.
On its own, her behavior wasn’t necessarily weird or strange. Now that I was aware she was cheating on George, though, I was instantly suspicious of her. I automatically assumed she was sneaking around.
In the aftermath of having sex with Sabrina, I craved solitude and the peace to get my footing again. That sassy, stubborn good girl of mine had messed me up, making me want her even more now and unsure how I could make it happen.
But I couldn’t ignore this opportunity to talk to my mom. It was just the two of us in the house. No one was around. She wouldn’t be going to the gym or library now. And I had no classes. No excuses could be used as a reason not to confront her.
I strode into the kitchen quietly. “Hi, Mom.”
Just like I thought she might, she jumped up and squeaked in surprise. “Nick.” She closed her eyes as she pressed her hand to her chest. “You scared me.”
Because you were worried someone would see you on your phone, huh?
“What were you so engrossed with?” I asked instead of replying to what she’d said.
She frowned. “I’m not…” She shook her head as she furrowed her brow. “I’m just scrolling on my feed.”
“Really?” I scoffed.
“Yes, really.” She frowned. “Why are you sneaking around and scaring me like that? Jeez.”
“You’re one to talk about sneaking around.” I couldn’t help my terse tone. I was sick of this tug-o-war around her, wanting to be upfront and confront her but also nervous that it would worsen her mental health. Depression was a tricky monster to contend with. Her tendency to slip into denial was worse.
“What?” She stood, not wanting to stick around for this conversation already.
“You’ve been sneaking around. Right?”
“Nick, what’s the matter with you?” She scowled as she backed up.
“You’ve been acting weird lately. Like you’re hiding something. Like you’re?—”
“Nick.” She repeated it firmer. “You’re acting out of line here.”
“Am I?” I tilted my head to the side, hating that she’d be this cagey with me. “Or are you hiding something?”
“I’m not—” She gritted her teeth and shook her head again, clearly angry. “Nick, you need to mind your own business.”
She won’t admit if she’s hiding anything. The way she didn’t outright deny it was telling.
“I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but I’m… I’m doing my best. I’m trying my best to just be happy so everyone else can be happy.”
Her words struck me in the heart. That admission was a direct stab, making me cringe.
But you’re not. You aren’t happy.
And I didn’t know how to make her happy anymore. The hopelessness that consumed me renewed my fears that I was a coward for her, that I wasn’t strong enough to support her through depression when I lacked the understanding of how to help her.
“I wish you could appreciate that, Nick.” She flung her arm up, gesturing at the kitchen. “I wish you could appreciate that I found us a secure home. With money. After all those years we spent every penny on your dad’s treatments, you’ll never want for anything.”
I hated the tears that burned behind my lids.
She was wrong. She was so damn wrong.
I wanted my dad again. I wanted the close-knit sense of family that we had together. I wanted the peace of seeing her happy and knowing my dad could recognize when he needed to step in and get her the help she needed but denied.
I sure as hell wanted—no, needed—her to stop screwing around on George and threatening this future she wanted to scold me about.
My chance to ask her why she’d risk this slight stability here was gone. Without another heated word or angry scowl, my mom turned and left the kitchen. She left me there with this simmering frustration.
I wouldn’t want for anything?
That was a cruel lie that I didn’t want to accept.
I wanted to move on from Dad dying, and I wished I could find my path and know my fucking purpose and worth again. Life was a bleak existence of dark gloom.
Except with her.
Sabrina was the only exception to this twisting darkness. When I was near her and she challenged me to keep pushing and poking at her until I could get a rise out of her. When I was with her and taking her virginity, feeling her tight walls clamp on me and squeeze so I’d come so damn hard deep inside her.
When she stared at me, locking me with that soft brown gaze of hers, so soulful but wary, the darkness faded.
Sabrina pulled me out of the murky darkness. She jarred me and kept me in the present, in the moment, with her. That was how strong the draw was that magnetized me to her.
Stuck in these thoughts about my dad had me recalling how Sabrina had looked so damn happy with her parents at the food bank. How they laughed and smiled. Her hugs and relaxed attitude.
Jealousy had no place in this situation, but I couldn’t help it. I envied how she still had her family. It didn’t seem like she had much else, just her determination and family, but comparing those blessings with what I had was a cruel joke.
What do I have here?
No direction or purpose.
Hardly any love.
I felt more committed and saw more worth in spending time with the girl I was supposed to bully than with what remained of my family.
“Stop.” I muttered the command to myself as I closed my eyes and rubbed my brow.
I had to get Sabrina out of my head. I’d never forgive myself for caving to wanting her so badly, because now that I understood how addicting she was, how right it felt to be with her even when we butted heads, I saw no way to make it happen. There was no way to ensure anything lasting with Sabrina when Tiffany expected me to ruin her.
How long can I stand this?
The tension of being pulled in two different directions would wear on me.
As if on cue, Tiffany entered the kitchen, smirking at me. The universe was playing some shitty jokes on me for her to come bother me now. And that was all she had on her mind. That narrowed-eye gaze meant she was on the warpath to be calculating and manipulative.
Like always.
“I’m not in the mood,” I warned her, grabbing a water bottle to get out of there and escape to the pool.
“Oh? You’re not?” She crossed her arms and lifted her chin, defiant.
“No. I’m really fucking not.”
“I think you should be in the mood to hear me out, Nick.” She set her hand on the island counter and leaned in to glare at me. “I’m getting impatient. I don’t think you have any true intention to ruin her.”
She was right. Now that I’d had Sabrina, ruining her was the last thing I wanted to do. Sure, I couldn’t wait for another chance to ruin her in bed. I wanted to tease and torture her to seek another orgasm for me, but that destruction wasn’t what Tiffany had in mind.
“I—”
She held her hand up. “No more excuses. I’m telling Daddy that Leslie’s cheating on him by Friday.”
My mouth hung open. She was taking this too far, putting a deadline on it. Five days?
“I need more time.”
More time to figure out what the fuck to do about this.
“No.” She shook her head and turned to stride back out of the room. “You have until Friday. And that’s final.”
What was final was how fucked I was. She had the upper hand here. She had all the leverage to call the shots, and I scorned how hopeless I was in these circumstances. I had nothing to fight her with.
I slammed my fist on the granite counter, so pissed I couldn’t think straight.