Chapter 31
Chapter Thirty-One
AUGUST
I do not say such things ever. Put myself on the line for someone I barely know? Never. I keep my circle tight and it consists of my family—who I can barely tolerate sometimes—and the very few friends I have, which are almost nonexistent. I’d like to think I’ve lived a mostly solitary life and I have zero problems with that. I don’t need anyone. I don’t want anyone.
Until she walked into my life.
Now Sinclair is all I can think about. She pissed me off with the I don’t care response and I took it personally like a little baby bitch. Something I never do. Taking things personally isn’t part of my nature because nothing is ever personal. I am just living. Moving through life like a fucking shark who just swims and swims and never stops. Who eats when he wants. Fucks when he wants. On an endless loop, perfectly satisfied.
That’s me. That’s the way I prefer things until Sinclair Miller comes along and fucks it all up. Fucks with my head and my body. My dick wants no one else. Hell, I tried talking to some nameless, faceless woman at a party last weekend and felt nothing. Zero interest. She was beautiful. Flirtatious and willing to do anything I wanted. She basically said that, and I turned her down flat. Left the party and went back to the house, where I locked myself away in my bedroom and jerked off to thoughts of her. Sinclair.
Jesus. I am fucked.
“I-I need time to think,” Sin admits, her voice low, her expression skittish. She looks ready to run at the first opportunity. “You’re overwhelming me.”
Just being in her presence and hearing her speak is overwhelming, but I can’t say that. She’ll run and I’d chase after her and catch her because I always do. Sling her over my shoulder and take her back to my room at the frat house—I hate that I live at the fucking frat, I need out of there—and fuck her senseless. Until she can’t speak or think and she’s drenched in my cum. Smelling like me because she belongs to me?—
See? My thoughts are fucked up and crazy and it’s all because of her. I have a problem. Is this what my father experienced with my mother? God, I should ask him. I could really use some advice right now.
But maybe I don’t want to know. What if that’s exactly how he felt when he met Mom? Like a lightning strike, forever changed. Forever fucking ruined.
That’s what it feels like. I hate it.
I’m obsessed with it.
“Maybe we can take this slow,” she adds.
I squint at her, trying to comprehend what she means by that. “Take what slow?”
Slow isn’t part of my nature. I don’t do slow for anyone. I waste zero time and I’m impatient to a fault.
“Us. Whatever this is that we’re doing.” She waves a hand between us, her delicate brows drawn together. She seems confused. Unsettled. But at least she doesn’t look ready to bolt any longer. “You could take me on a date.”
“A date? Aren’t we passed that nonsense? ”
Her expression turns sour. “No. No, we are not. And taking a woman on a date isn’t nonsense. Have you ever done it?”
“Done what? Gone on a date?” She nods. “Well. No.”
Sin rolls her eyes. “Oh my God. How old are you again?”
“Twenty-two.”
“And you’ve never been on a date.” She sounds absolutely disgusted. With me. Like that ever happens. “I’m not even going to bother asking if you’ve ever been in love.”
“Have you been in love?” I will kill the asshole if she has. No one on this earth deserves her love. Not even me.
“No. But I’ve been on dates.” A sigh leaves her and she slowly shakes her head. “You want to make something of this? You should ask me on a date.”
“Will you go on a date with me?” The words automatically leave me and I feel like a fool. Is this what it’s supposed to be like, asking a woman to go out with you? It’s borderline humiliating.
Her eyes are actually sparkling. She’s eating this shit up. “I would love to. Where are you taking me?”
“Where do you want to go?”
“No, it doesn’t work like that, August. You have to plan the date.” She is beaming, she’s so pleased. “What are you thinking? We could go out on Friday?”
“It’s Monday.” Friday is forever from now. I can’t wait that long. “How about this evening?”
“Noooo.” She draws the word out, laughing. “I’m so busy this week with school. There’s no way I can get together with you until Friday. Well, maybe Thursday night? That could work too.”
“Thursday it is.” My voice is firm. I’m not about to let her change her mind.
“Okay. Perfect. You’ll have to tell me how I should dress.”
For fuck’s sake. “What in the hell do you mean by that?”
“Well, if you’re taking me to dinner, then I need to know what kind of restaurant it is so I can figure out what I should wear. Something casual? Or something more…formal? I know how you rich guys are. You love fancy places.”
You rich guys? “Isn’t your family wealthy?”
“Well...yes.”
“Are you close to them? Your family?”
She grimaces. “I don’t want to talk about them.”
That’s definitely a no. “You want me to plan our date and then tell you where we’re going?”
“You don’t have to give away all the details but just…let me know how I should dress. I want to wear something appropriate.” She clutches her hands together beneath her chin, looking younger than her eighteen years, which makes me feel like a lecherous old man. “You’re really going to take me on a date.”
She sounds surprised, which is…cute. And I don’t think anyone or anything is cute. Not even my niece. That little monster is the complete opposite of cute. Astrid is terrifying with all her screaming and wailing and thrashing about.
“You keep talking about this date, the more you’re going to convince me it’s a bad idea,” I warn her, though I don’t mean a word of it. If this is what she wants, this is what she’ll get.
“My lips are sealed.” She mimes zipping her mouth shut, locking it and throwing away the key. “Text me!” She’s about to walk away when she stops, turning to face me once more. “Do you have my number?”
I do. I sent her a text once and while she did respond, I could never reply back because I was worried she’d think I was an out-of-his- mind stalker. But I decide to lie. “I don’t.”
“What’s your number?”
I rattle it off and she adds it to her phone, sending me a text. My phone buzzes and I check it.
Can’t wait for our date.
She even included a smiley face emoji. I rarely use them. I think they’re stupid .
When I glance up, I see her watching me carefully. “You’ve texted me before, you know. You’re the one who said you couldn’t stop thinking about me.”
This entire experience is mortifying. No wonder I’ve never asked anyone on a date before. It’s a nightmare situation. “See? I’ve been afflicted since pretty much day one.”
“You make it sound like a bad thing.” Her smile is huge and the sight of it has my heart twisted up in knots. The poor thing. It’s been nonfunctioning my entire life and now it’s pounding all the time and probably confused as fuck. “See you Thursday, August.”
I watch her walk away until she disappears into the darkness, rubbing at my chest. Hoping that she’s safe. I send her a text.
Tell me when you’re in your dorm room.
Sin: Why? Do you want to sext me?
Hmm. That sounds interesting, but not at the moment. I decide to be honest because lying just gets me in trouble.
Me: I want to make sure you’re safe.
Sin: Awwww. Big bad August actually cares.
Fuck. I do. More than I’d ever want to admit.
Two days later and I still haven’t planned our date. Considering I’m a novice, I have zero idea where to start and I’m not about to ask my best friend because he’ll mock my ass the entire time and ask me stupid questions like if I’m in love or some such shit. I’m not in love. But I am hopelessly obsessed and wondering if I can work Sinclair out of my system. This could be a momentary blip in my life and eventually we’ll realize we’re not good for each other. Or she could be the love of my life and I’ll have to convince her we could make it work .
Either scenario, I’m the one doing all the heavy lifting, but it’s fine. I’m fine.
I consider asking my mother where would be a good restaurant to take a date to but that’ll just get her hopes up and I don’t want to do that. I’ve shown no real interest in girls my entire existence beyond fucking around with them and I definitely would never tell her that. Mentioning the word date to my beautiful, romantic mother would be a huge mistake and open up all sorts of questions I don’t want to answer.
I decide to ask my sister for advice instead. Risky but fuck it. Iris has taste and she’ll know what to do.
Hitting the FaceTime button, I wait for her to answer. I’m taking a chance because she could be breastfeeding her little monster and that’s the last thing that I want to see but I’m desperate.
Iris answers on the fourth ring and blessedly, it’s only her I can see in the camera.
“August! Oh my God! Are you unwell?” The concern in her voice is obvious.
I’m immediately irritated. “What the fuck, Iris? Can’t I just…call you?”
“No. You can’t. There’s always a reason and honestly? You look…not irritated?”
“Do I usually look irritated?” I already know the answer.
“For sure,” she says without hesitation because if there’s one thing I can count on, it’s my sister being brutally honest. “And while you don’t necessarily look happy right now, you don’t seem pissed either. I take this as a good sign.”
I exhale loudly enough for her to hear, needing her to know I am now, indeed irritated, but she just sits there and grins. “I, uh, I need your opinion about something.”
The smile fades. “About what? Seriously, is everything okay? ”
“I’m fine,” I bark out, immediately feeling like an asshole. “I just need help.”
“From me?” She rests her hand on her chest.
“Yes, from you. Where’s a good place to take someone to dinner?”
Iris blinks slowly. “Who are you taking to dinner?”
“A woman.”
“Are you going on a date, Augie?” Her eyes are huge and she’s got her hand on her chest again. Or did she ever remove it? “An actual date with an actual woman you’re…actually interested in?”
That’s three actuals in one sentence. “I don’t know if I’m interested in her.”
There I go lying again. I’m beyond interested in her. I literally cannot stop thinking about her. It’s fucking maddening.
“Who is it?”
“You don’t know her.” Lie number two.
“At least give me her name. You’d be surprised by how many people I actually do know.”
Iris is far more social than me. Friendlier. She’s a good time while I am most definitely not. “I don’t want to tell you who it is.”
“Then I don’t want to help you.” She crosses her arms in front of her chest. “Guess we’re done with this conversation.”
She is beyond exasperating. “Where’s your child?”
“Napping.”
“Where’s Brooks?”
“At work.”
“He works?”
“For his father, yes.” A sigh leaves her and she tilts her head to the side, her blonde hair cascading past her shoulder. “We’re living our lives over here, August. Brooks is working and I’m taking care of the baby. We don’t have the luxury like you do of having fun at college and going on dates with random women. ”
I’m older than her by a few years and she’s making me feel like an idiot. I don’t like this. At all. “It’s Sinclair Miller. That’s who I’m going on a date with.”
Her jaw drops and her eyes nearly bug out of her head. “Are you fucking serious? The girl you bullied and tortured her entire freshman year agreed to go on a date with you? Has she lost her mind?”
“She’s forgiven me for my past sins.” Has she? I have no idea. I’ve never apologized to her for what I did, but that was so long ago.
“Well, isn’t she the bigger person.” Iris squints into the camera. “You’re really going out with her?”
“Yes, and it’s happening tomorrow night so I need ideas, Iris. Now,” I snap.
My sister laughs at me because she’s got me by the literal balls and there’s nothing that I can do about it. “Do you want to impress her?”
“Aren’t I impressive enough?” I’m a Lancaster. I’ve impressed her with my dick and all the things I can do to her with my fingers and mouth. What else is there to impress her with?
“Oh, Augie. You’re hopeless.” Iris shakes her head. “Of course, you want to impress her. You need to take her somewhere in the city. Like the most popular restaurant there is, though you might have a hard time getting a table if your date is tomorrow? Hmm, and it’s on a Thursday—that might be your only saving grace.”
“It was her first night available.” I swallow whatever else I might say that makes me sound eager and ridiculous. “And I can get a table at any restaurant in Manhattan. All I have to say is my name when I make the call.”
“True. Well, you should pull out all the stops. Like, fly her in on the helicopter.” Our father recently acquired one. That’s a good idea. “Take her to the most buzzed about, expensive restaurant in the city and put on the charm. Can you do that? Put on charm? You’re never charming to me, but I’m thinking you might have it in you. Daddy is charming and you’re a lot like him.”
“I can be charming.” Maybe. I don’t have to work hard at trying to charm anyone because everyone I encounter pretty much bows at my feet. I put in zero effort and always have their respect. “You need to give me a list of the best restaurants. I don’t have a clue.”
“You have Google,” she points out.
“Yes, but that’s not the same as you knowing what’s out there. I trust your opinion, Iris, though maybe you don’t get out as much as you’d like.” I’m starting to sweat. She might’ve been a bad choice, but what are my options? I suppose I could ask Rowan or Willow. But Willow doesn’t even live here anymore. She’s too busy chasing after her football playing fiancé, and Rowan is in high school doing stupid high school things. Why would I ask him for advice?
“I’ll compile you a list. Brooks and I do have a social life, despite what you think. We go out often because Mom always wants to watch the baby for us.” Iris taps her pursed lips with her index finger. “Let me think on this and I’ll text you a few restaurant names.”
“I need the names now.”
“I know, I know,” she mutters, rolling her eyes. “Always so impatient.”
“Hurry.” I end the call before I do something stupid like thank her. If I’m polite and grateful she’ll definitely think something is wrong with me. Though maybe there’s no point in playing it cool. Something is definitely wrong with me.
And her name is Sinclair Miller.