Too Late
Page 45
Someone beats on the bathroom door, so I put down the curling iron and switch it off. I open it to find Asa gripping the doorframe. His eyes run down the length of me and then back up again. “Holy fuck,” he says, stepping inside the bathroom. He wraps his arm around my waist and his other hand drops to my thigh, crawling my dress up with his fingers. “I was planning on waiting until I got you in bed tonight, but I’m not sure if I can.”
His breath reeks of whiskey. I doubt it’s even nine o’clock yet and he’s halfway to being comatose already.
I push against his chest. “Well, you have to wait. I just finished getting ready. I’d like to be able to torture you with this outfit for a few hours, at least.”
He groans and pushes me onto the counter, pressing himself between my legs. “Sloan, how can one guy be so fucking lucky?”
I close my eyes while he kisses down my shoulder. How can one girl be so unlucky?
He grips my waist and pulls me off the counter. He doesn’t set me on my feet, though. He scoops me up in his arms and I’m forced to grab him around the neck to steady myself. He carries me out of the bathroom and down the stairs. Before we reach the bottom, he stops and sets me on my feet. “Wait here,” he says, disappearing down the rest of the steps and into the kitchen.
I look around the living room at all the people. So many fucking people. My eyes catch Jess’s stare and I smile at her. She looks away, but I’m almost certain she cringes before doing so.
I have no idea what I’ve done to her or why she hates me so much. But honestly, I’m used to people treating me like she treats me. I stopped worrying myself sick about it before I even reached high school.
I bring the fingers of my right hand over to my left and I twist the ring around nervously. I guess the one positive aspect of this ring being so big is that I could probably use it in self defense. Might come in handy if I find myself alone with Jon again.
I can feel the anxiousness crawl into my stomach before I even notice him staring. Carter is on the other side of the living room. He’s leaning against the wall, next to Dalton. His arms are folded together and-true to his word-he’s not looking at me. Technically. He’s looking at my hand.
I stop twisting the ring, and when I do, his eyes flick up to mine. His eyes are narrowed, his jaw set tight. Dalton is standing next to him, laughing and talking like Carter is completely engaged in whatever he’s saying. But just like Carter said earlier, he can’t see anything else-he only sees me. His expression doesn’t waver. Even when Asa returns with two glasses of champagne and forces one of them into my hands, Carter still doesn’t look away. It’s almost as if he’s torturing himself on purpose.
I try to save him a little bit of pain and look away first. It probably doesn’t help that I look up at Asa. I can still feel Carter’s eyes on me as Asa raises his glass.
“Fuckers!” he yells. “Turn off the music!”
A few seconds later, the music cuts off. Everyone in the room turns toward us and I suddenly want to run back up the stairs and hide. I force myself not to look at Carter.
Once Asa has everyone’s attention, he says, “Most of you already know, because I haven’t kept my fucking mouth shut since she said yes.” He holds up my hand. “But she said yes!”
Collective cheers and congratulations come from the room, but they quickly dwindle as it becomes apparent that Asa isn’t finished speaking.
“I’ve loved this girl for a long time now,” he says. “She’s my fucking world. So it’s about damn time we make it official.” He smiles at me and I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t something inside me that feels a little something for him-even if it is only sympathy at this point. Somewhere deep inside, I know he is the way he is because of the hand he was dealt as a child. A part of me can’t fault him for that. But just because a lot of his behavior can probably be excused by whatever awful people were around him as a child, doesn’t mean I’m required to subject myself to a life of unhappiness simply because he loves me.
Because he does love me. He may love me with his own twisted take on love, but he does love me. That much is obvious.
Asa points across the room. “Carter! My man! Help us celebrate this monumental occasion with a toast!”
I close my eyes. Why is he pulling Carter into this? I can’t look. I can’t.
“Someone get that fucker a glass of champagne!” Asa yells.
I open my eyes and slowly drag them across the room toward Carter, who still has the same expression on his face. Only this time, he’s being handed a glass of champagne.
His breath reeks of whiskey. I doubt it’s even nine o’clock yet and he’s halfway to being comatose already.
I push against his chest. “Well, you have to wait. I just finished getting ready. I’d like to be able to torture you with this outfit for a few hours, at least.”
He groans and pushes me onto the counter, pressing himself between my legs. “Sloan, how can one guy be so fucking lucky?”
I close my eyes while he kisses down my shoulder. How can one girl be so unlucky?
He grips my waist and pulls me off the counter. He doesn’t set me on my feet, though. He scoops me up in his arms and I’m forced to grab him around the neck to steady myself. He carries me out of the bathroom and down the stairs. Before we reach the bottom, he stops and sets me on my feet. “Wait here,” he says, disappearing down the rest of the steps and into the kitchen.
I look around the living room at all the people. So many fucking people. My eyes catch Jess’s stare and I smile at her. She looks away, but I’m almost certain she cringes before doing so.
I have no idea what I’ve done to her or why she hates me so much. But honestly, I’m used to people treating me like she treats me. I stopped worrying myself sick about it before I even reached high school.
I bring the fingers of my right hand over to my left and I twist the ring around nervously. I guess the one positive aspect of this ring being so big is that I could probably use it in self defense. Might come in handy if I find myself alone with Jon again.
I can feel the anxiousness crawl into my stomach before I even notice him staring. Carter is on the other side of the living room. He’s leaning against the wall, next to Dalton. His arms are folded together and-true to his word-he’s not looking at me. Technically. He’s looking at my hand.
I stop twisting the ring, and when I do, his eyes flick up to mine. His eyes are narrowed, his jaw set tight. Dalton is standing next to him, laughing and talking like Carter is completely engaged in whatever he’s saying. But just like Carter said earlier, he can’t see anything else-he only sees me. His expression doesn’t waver. Even when Asa returns with two glasses of champagne and forces one of them into my hands, Carter still doesn’t look away. It’s almost as if he’s torturing himself on purpose.
I try to save him a little bit of pain and look away first. It probably doesn’t help that I look up at Asa. I can still feel Carter’s eyes on me as Asa raises his glass.
“Fuckers!” he yells. “Turn off the music!”
A few seconds later, the music cuts off. Everyone in the room turns toward us and I suddenly want to run back up the stairs and hide. I force myself not to look at Carter.
Once Asa has everyone’s attention, he says, “Most of you already know, because I haven’t kept my fucking mouth shut since she said yes.” He holds up my hand. “But she said yes!”
Collective cheers and congratulations come from the room, but they quickly dwindle as it becomes apparent that Asa isn’t finished speaking.
“I’ve loved this girl for a long time now,” he says. “She’s my fucking world. So it’s about damn time we make it official.” He smiles at me and I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t something inside me that feels a little something for him-even if it is only sympathy at this point. Somewhere deep inside, I know he is the way he is because of the hand he was dealt as a child. A part of me can’t fault him for that. But just because a lot of his behavior can probably be excused by whatever awful people were around him as a child, doesn’t mean I’m required to subject myself to a life of unhappiness simply because he loves me.
Because he does love me. He may love me with his own twisted take on love, but he does love me. That much is obvious.
Asa points across the room. “Carter! My man! Help us celebrate this monumental occasion with a toast!”
I close my eyes. Why is he pulling Carter into this? I can’t look. I can’t.
“Someone get that fucker a glass of champagne!” Asa yells.
I open my eyes and slowly drag them across the room toward Carter, who still has the same expression on his face. Only this time, he’s being handed a glass of champagne.
