56. Seth
Seth
When we get back to my place, I drop down on the sectional, stretching my legs out. Kaden walks over, all determined, spreading my knees apart before he climbs on top of me, in between my legs, and presses his lips to mine.
I push my hands through his hair, and he keeps one hand on my jaw as he nibbles on my bottom lip, grazing his lips down my chin and gently biting it before he moves back up. His scruff scratches my skin and I love it.
“What are you smiling about?” he mumbles against my lips.
“Nothing,” I say, opening my eyes to look at him. He’s wearing a smile that makes my stomach flipflop and I snort a laugh to hide the breath trying to escape me.
He licks the seam of my lips, and when I open up, he softly slides his tongue inside, making goosebumps appear on my skin.
But then he pulls back, looking down on me with a small frown.
“Why didn’t you go to college?” he asks.
“You know why.” I frown back. “I didn’t want to. Same as you.”
“No, not the same,” he shakes his head. “I’d love to go, but we could never afford it, and then Kit took me in.”
“Okay, well. I didn’t wanna go.”
“Why not?” he presses. And suddenly, he’s heavier on me. Like he’s gained the weight of my old memories and anxiety.
“Because,” I say, shifting under him, but he doesn’t move.
“What do you mean because?” he questions. “Do you know how many kids dream about going to college but can’t afford it? Your parents are rich as fuck; you could’ve gone to any school you’d wanted.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t wanna go to any school.” I shift again, pushing him off me, and stand. I need air.
“What’s the matter?” he asks, sitting up.
“Nothing. I don’t know what you’re keep bugging me about this. I didn’t wanna go to college. I wanted to be a tattoo artist, and now I am, so?” I shrug, and cross my arms.
“You could’ve been a tattoo artist after college, too.”
I scoff. “Dude, fucking drop it already!”
He tilts his head, searching my face. “Why are you getting mad?”
I drag a hand down my face. “Look, I fucking hated high school, and I was done with all of that, so I decided not to go to college. It was my decision. Me not going doesn’t stop other kids from going. Poor kids would still be poor, regardless of whether I went or not.”
He frowns at me, hunching forward, elbows on his knees. “Why did you hate high school?”
“Everybody hates high school.”
He shakes his head. “I didn’t.”
I scoff, shaking my head as I scratch my eyebrow.
“Of course, you didn’t,” I mumble, turning around and walking into the kitchen.
Opening the fridge just to do something with my shaking hands.
My pulse is hammering in my ears, and there’s ice in my stomach.
My skin is too tight, and I just want to leave.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” He stands, walks up the to the kitchen island, and places his hands on it.
“Nothing.”
“No, tell me. What did you mean by that?”
I slam the fridge door closed. “I meant that of course the perfect Kaden Merrick with his perfect girlfriend Stacy didn’t hate high school, and anyone who did, and on top of that, didn’t go to college, is a fucking basket case who can’t recognize privilege when it bites him in the ass!” I snap.
He flinches and stares at me, and I can hear the walls crumbling down. Brick by brick. My mask is slipping off like it’s made of oil. I swallow, clench my fists, and try to will my breathing to calm down.
It’s not working.
“Okay,” he says slowly, frowning. “What’s happening right now?”
I just shake my head, staring at the floor.
“Did I do something? You know I didn’t mean—”
“Not everything’s about you, Kade,” I snap, glaring at him.
He scoffs, crossing his arms. “Now you’re just being shitty.”
“Yeah, well, news flash.” I throw my arms out. “I’m a shitty person.”
“Seth, what the fuck is—”
“Just drop it, Kaden!” I snap again.
“Dude, will you calm down? Jesus!”
I take a few breaths, swallowing but my throat is all dry. I clench and unclench my fists, staring at the floor, wishing we could turn back time.
“Seth—”
“I don’t wanna talk about it anymore,” I cut him off, locking my gaze with his. Letting him know that I mean it. His eyes search mine, and there’s a small frown between his brows.
“I’m gonna take a shower,” I say, walking past him.
I’m only a few steps away from my bedroom door when I hear a quiet question.
“Were you bullied?” His voice is low, more like a mumble, and I freeze in my step. My breathing’s coming in short puffs.
“What?” I ask on an exhale.
“Is that why you hated high school?”
I pause for a second too long. “You can leave the door open when you leave. I’ll lock it later.”
I walk into the bathroom, turn on the shower and drop down on the toilet seat. Hands shaking, my breathing stutters as I exhale. Bouncing a leg up and down, I drag my hands back and forth over my pants. I draw a shaky breath, count to four, and exhale.
My front door clicks, and I close my eyes. Wringing my hands together, I turn my gaze to the ceiling.
“You’re okay. You’re okay. You’re okay.”