Chapter 34

I can’t shakethe vague sense of dread brought on by the dwindling of my remaining weekend hours. It has been so nice spending my time with Carter and not having to deal with reality. Monday will bring with it the stress of homework, the inevitability of Erika glaring at me in the halls, Jake lurking in the shadows like an irritant that won’t stop, and Grace not knowing what to think or how to respond to my being with Carter. Then after all that, I have to endure the awkwardness of going to get birth control and trying to explain to my doctor that I need the fast-acting stuff because I have an uncontrollable boyfriend… but without setting off any alarm bells that will have her handing me domestic abuse pamphlets I don’t need.
Sunday I have to work, but the bookstore is empty. By the time I’ve finished sorting fiction for clearance and reorganizing the books around the register, I’m bored out of my mind. I already studied my notes on my phone at Carter’s last night, but with nothing else to do, I pull them out and start reading through them again.
“What’s a guy gotta do to get a little service around here?”
I smile at the sound of Carter’s voice and look up, clearing my phone screen and sliding it into the pocket of my jeans as I step toward the counter. “What are you doin’ here, troublemaker?”
“Checking out this hot cashier who works here,” he says, letting his gaze travel over my body. “Don’t tell my girlfriend.”
I play along, asking, “Is she a real ball-buster?”
“She’d kick my ass.”
Bracing my palms on the countertop, I lean in and give him a kiss. “All right, I’ll keep your secret. But only if you don’t tell my boyfriend. He’s fucking crazy.”
Carter chuckles against my lips before murmuring, “Damn right, he is.”
Since I shouldn’t really be kissing him at work, I pull back. There’s really no one around to see anyway. Even the manager went in the back to do paperwork, since no one is coming in to sell any books.
Not seeing Chloe anywhere, I ask, “No cute little sidekick today, huh?”
He shakes his head. “Didn’t think I’d need one this time.” Glancing around the empty aisles of books, he asks, “Has it been this dead all day?”
“Yep. I’ve done every bit of side work that belongs to me, and some that belongs to other people. I’m just watchin’ the minutes tick by at this point.”
“Why don’t you recommend me some books,” he suggests. “Surely a nerd like you has wet dreams about bookstore dates. Let’s squeeze one in since no one’s here.”
Rolling my eyes as I walk around to the outside of the counter, I tell him, “Whatever, you like my nerdy ass.”
Coming up behind me, he grabs my butt. “I sure do. And what was that thing you said to me last night?” he muses.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I didn’t say anything last night. Zero words were spoken by me.”
Playing along, he says, “No, there was something. Something about how you felt about me. An l-word?”
“Get your hands off my butt before you get me fired,” I say, pushing his hand away.
“You’re the only one in the store.”
“The manager is in the back, and we do have cameras.”
Carter glances up at the ceiling, checking to see where the cameras are pointed. “And he’ll fire you because a customer groped you?”
“Probably. This world is a fucked up place,” I tell him, shaking my head. Glancing back at him over my shoulder as I lead him toward the small Beats section where many of the books that make me think of him reside, I inquire, “Have you ever read Bukowski?”
“Nope. Should I have?”
“I have a feeling you might like him,” I tell him, leading him down to the end of the aisle, then squatting down to peruse the limited selection. “Tales of Ordinary Madness makes me think of you,” I add, pulling our single copy from the shelf. It’s a weathered copy with aged pages, but that’s okay. Handing it to Carter, I explain, “His writing style isn’t for everyone, but if you can get into it, my hunch is you might enjoy his stuff. I’m gonna be really basic here for a minute, but I also think you’d like Catcher in the Rye if you haven’t read it already.”
“If it hasn’t been assigned in class, I haven’t read it.”
“That has been assigned.”
“If it has been assigned in class, I also might not have read it,” he amends.
I shake my head disapprovingly. “You can’t rally girl your way through law school, you know? Someday you might actually have to do your own work.”
“Nah, doing all the work is for plebs. I’m a delegator,” he tells me, only half-joking.
“What’s your plan when you leave high school? Bang all your professors?”
“Only the lady professors.”
I wrinkle my nose up and turn to smack him in the abdomen. He smiles like a rogue, not even grunting from the impact. “This is why we’re getting divorced.”
“Because I’m charming?” he asks, innocently.
“Because you’re a rule-flouting whore,” I inform him. Turning on my heel, I lead him back through fiction toward Salinger. “Franny and Zooey is good, too. So is Nine Stories, actually. I bet you’d like Salinger.”
“Man, you jump tracks like a ninja.”
“My brain is sharp from all those years of doing my own work,” I tell him sweetly over my shoulder.
“Work smarter, not harder,” he offers back.
I shake my head, stopping and running my fingers down spines until I find what I’m looking for. “I have a hunch the real world is going to be quite an adjustment for you.”
He turns to watch me peruse the shelves, shoving his hands into his pockets. “And I have a feeling you’re the one who will be disillusioned, not me. You and I don’t have the same ‘real world,’ princess. Haven’t you figured that out by now?”
I drop my hand, momentarily abandoning my search. “That’s only because we’re in high school and you get to be Mr. Popularity. After high school is over—”
“After high school is over, I’ll be Mr. Whatever I Have to be Next,” he interrupts, looking almost sympathetic. “The world’s not gonna change, Zo. What, you think we’ll swap positions of power? After graduation, you’ll be on top just because you work harder? Because you deserve it more? Because you’re a better person? It doesn’t mean anything, babe. I mean, it does to you, it’s who you are, but that’s not the world. I’ll be on top long after high school has ended. Not because I’ll deserve it any more then than I do now, but because I’ll bring the right tool box. That’s it. It’s that simple.”
Given I like Carter, my stomach shouldn’t feel so unsettled, but I hate the possibility that he’s right. My mind and heart both reject his version of reality, stubbornly insisting it means something to be a good person. Someday, somehow… it will matter that I do the right thing and he does the wrong thing.
I don’t like making us competitors right now because I know he would win every time, but surely someday I would be the victor. He’s right—I work harder. I do the right thing. I deserve it more than he does.
He must be able to see he has poked a small hole in my dreams, because he reaches out to grab me and tugs me into his chest. “I’m sorry, I’m just being cynical,” he says, although I know he doesn’t mean it. Settling his arm around my shoulder to keep me close, he nods at the bookshelf. “Come on, pick out some books. Educate me.”
“Why?” I mutter, glancing up at him. “So you can have your rally girl read them to you while you’re practicing?”
“I’ll read them all by myself, I promise,” he says lightly, a small smile on his perfect lips. It’s a smile he intends to be reassuring, but knowing he’s only trying to placate me makes the gesture feel hollow.
Displeasure is leaking out of me now, and I can’t put a stopper in it. Frowning up at him, I tell him, “It’s not stupid to try. It’s not stupid to be nice to people and do the right thing instead of the wrong thing. The world would be a lousy place if nobody cared. You obviously don’t, but someone has to.”
“I was just messing with you, Zoey,” he assures me.
“But it was the truth,” I state, staring at him. “You weren’t messing with me, you told the truth and when I didn’t like it, you tried to backpedal like you always do, because it wasn’t worth it to you to stand your ground on this one. You’re not invested in whether I agree or disagree because it doesn’t affect you.”
“Yes, Zoey, I’m a selfish monster. I think only of myself, always. None of your opinions or worldviews matter to me. You’re just a trophy I can fuck.”
My stomach drops at the possibility of truth in those words and I take a step back.
Raking a hand through his hair, Carter says, “Jesus Christ. It was a joke, Zoey.”
“That’s a weird joke,” I tell him. “Trophy? That’s not a term I would’ve associated with myself. I’m not exactly a catch in this town. What makes me a trophy?”
This time, he knows better than to answer, but the gleam in his eye fuels my own suspicions and all of a sudden I know. It still doesn’t make sense, but I know the answer.
“Jake,” I say, softly. “He made me a trophy.”
“I was joking,” he says again, slowly. “I don’t view you as a trophy. I don’t even fucking value trophies—do you know how many of them I have?”
“Yeah, but you didn’t have a Zoey,” I say, shaking my head. “Not me. Not the stuck-up, church-going bookworm who didn’t give a damn about how impressive you are. Despite all your accomplishments and easy-pickings, I wasn’t on the menu for you, was I?”
Carter’s jaw locks. I see the tick, so I shouldn’t be surprised when he gets a little mean. “I don’t know, Zoey, if memory serves, I put youon the menu. I’ve had several servings at this point,” he reminds me.
That pisses me off. Plucking a book off the shelf, I shove a small paperback against his chest. “There’s your book. Buy it or don’t. I need to get back to the register.”
“Why are you doing this?” he demands, following me. “Why are you picking a fight with me over nothing?”
“I’m not picking a fight with you, I’m doing my job.”
He grabs my arm, pulling me backward and into the cooking section. “Stop.”
I turn and glare up at him. “Don’t tell me what to do.”
Carter rolls his eyes, tugging me into the corner, then switching our positions. Now he’s on the dominant side and I’m cornered between him and an intersection of books. Rather than argue with me, he grabs a fistful of my hair, yanks my head to the side, and kisses me. My heart hammers in my chest and I push against him, trying to shove him away. Carter drops his paperbacks and grabs my wrist, twisting it behind me and pinning me against the hard shelf of books.
It shouldn’t turn me on, but being manhandled by him turns my blood hot. It should be anger, but it’s something else. Interest stirs in my loins as he dominates my mouth, still firmly holding onto my hair. It only intensifies when he uses my hair to yank my head back and break the kiss, then pushes me down until I’m on my knees.
Then I hear him unzipping his jeans and my stomach bottoms out. My eyes widen as I look up at him. “Carter, what are you doing?”
“What does it look like I’m doing?” he asks evenly. Like the shameless bastard he is, he takes his cock out. “Open up, princess.”
“Carter, I’m at work. I can’t—”
“Next time you wanna be a pain in my ass, do it somewhere more convenient then,” he says, unapologetically. His dark gaze lingers on my swollen lips, then darts back to my eyes. “Now, open that pretty mouth or I’ll do it for you.”
Despite the steel in his tone, I do open my mouth—to tell him no way, he’s crazy, he’s going to get me fired. I have a litany of incredibly valid reasons on the tip of my tongue. Before I can share a single one, Carter pushes the smooth tip of his cock between my lips.
“Watch your teeth,” he warns, in case I’ve forgotten since last time.
I look up at him, adrenaline surging through my veins. We’re in such a calm, ordinary space, a place I spend several boring hours every week, and Carter is defiling it just like he defiles everything else. Given he pushed me into the corner, we are in one of the blind spots of the security cameras, but anyone could walk in. The manager could come out of the back and walk right past. Carter could get me fired, and there’s nothing I could say to defend myself in this scenario.
I should bite him. Not hard, not to hurt him, just to scare him, the fucking jerk. Making me give him a blow job while I’m on the clock. He’s got some damn nerve.
I like his nerve, though. I don’t know why, but his raging asshole side does things to me. The roughness of his hand fisted in my hair, the way he holds onto my head and uses my mouth for his own pleasure. Even if I tried to stop him right now, I doubt he would, and that should make me want to bite his dick right off, but instead it melts something in my brain. Instead, I find myself thinking, what the hell? If I’m risking getting fired, I might as well make it good.
Cornered in the cooking section, Carter fucks my face. There’s no other way to put it. Calling this a blow job would be irrationally generous. He punishes my mouth for all the annoying things that come out of it, then pushes deep into my throat and makes me choke down his cum. It’s filthy, harsh, and somehow hot. Tears leak out of the corners of my eyes from the brutality of it as I pull back and look up at him, swallowing down the last salty remnants of his pleasure.
Carter caresses my face affectionately, looking down at me. “Good girl.”
His voice is warm and approving. I’m tempted to melt into his touch, but now that he’s done, I’m more concerned about not getting caught. I bend to retrieve the paperbacks he dropped. He takes them, and I push up off the ground, swiping at the moisture under my eyes with the backs of my fingers.
“You okay?” he asks, somewhat reluctantly.
I nod my head, wiping my damp hands on the sides of my T-shirt. “Yeah. If I get fired, I’m going to murder you.”
Offering a smile as he zips back up, he says, “If you get fired, I’ll just give you the, what, 60 bucks a week you probably make here? I’m not too worried about it.”
“You should be.” I nod toward the ceiling, but don’t point, lest I draw attention. “There are security cameras. If they caught what you just did, that’s gotta count as indecent exposure, at the very least. That’s not gonna look very good, Mr. Future Lawyer.”
Carter shrugs and drapes an arm across my shoulder, tugging me into his side and kissing the crown of my head. “If the cameras caught it and anyone actually watches the tapes, my dad will just buy them. Your manager gets a nice, big bonus, the tape accidentally gets lost. Whoops.”
“You have an answer for everything, don’t you?” I ask, leaning into his side and wrapping my arm around him nonetheless.
“Sure do. You like that about me.”
He’s right, I do. Still, I say, “Not when the things you say piss me off.”
“It’s bound to happen sometimes,” he replies, unconcerned. “At least until you accept that you don’t have to oppose me. You can be my partner. All my perks are your perks. It’s not me vs. you, Zoey. We aren’t opponents. When I win, you win.”
“Until we are opponents. Then what?”
“I crush my opponents,” he informs me casually, meeting my gaze. “Don’t be one of them and you have nothing to worry about.”