Page 24 of All of My Life

“The same, but with a Pepsi,” I answered.

“Yeah, sure…okay,” she said, obviously flustered. “I’ll have that right up…”

Taking my eyes off Jett, I looked back up at our waitress. “Michelle?”

“Yes?” she squeaked.

“From now on, you will serve Jett whatever she wants, and I will settle up the tab at the end of each week,” I told her. “I don’t care if she orders everything off the menu every day, either. Understand?”

She quickly nodded her head. “Of course.”

As soon as Michelle left to put in our orders, Jett was on me. “Why do you keep doing that? What’s with the insistence of embarrassing me?”

“Why the fuck are you eating leftovers from the lunch crowd?” I fired back, incensed. “Why aren’t you going home for dinner? Why aren’t you paying for your dinner here? How about you answer those fucking questions, Jett? How about you answer those questions before I lose my goddamn mind.”

She leaned back in her seat, and if mutiny had a face, it belonged to Jett Morgan right now. She looked like she wanted to cast me to the ends of the earth, or Hell was probably more accurate. Still, something was off, and I wasn’t taking her home until I found out what it was.

After a few moments of stubborn silence and Michelle bringing our drinks, Jett finally said, “I don’t get an allowance, so I don’t have money to pay.”

That surprised me. Every kid at Carver High blew money like it was printed by the U.S. Treasury just for them. While no one had the kind of car that I did, there was still plenty of cash to go around in a town that had no one making less than six figures a year.

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t have chores, Chasin,” she replied haughtily.

“Everyone that lives in Carver Hills has a goddamn housekeeper, Jett,” I shot back. “No one that goes to Carver High has fucking chores, but they still have money.”

“Not all parents believe in just handing their children the world without making them earn it,” she countered. “Some parents actually want their children to know the value of hard work, Chasin. Some parents aren’t trying to breed lazy, entitled, spoiled brats.”

Ignoring her valid points, I asked, “Then why not just eat at home?”

Her jaw ticked, and if I hadn’t been studying her so closely, I would have missed it. “I don’t have any brothers or sisters,” she said as if I didn’t already know that. “My parents work long hours, so it’s lonely at home.” She shrugged a shoulder. “I’d rather…I’m alone a lot, so I’d rather have dinner here.”

Though her answer sounded reasonable, there was still something off about her confession. “Then why not make some fucking friends?”

“None of this is any of your business, Chasin,” she replied, ignoring my question. “It’s none of your business why I eat here, why I don’t have friends, or why I don’t have money. My life is none of your business.”

“Well, considering that I just announced you as my girlfriend at school earlier, your life is now mine,” I informed her. “So, get used to it.”

Jett’s head dropped as she ran her hands through her hair, messing up her bangs and bun. Though I loved it when she wore her hair down, my dick got hard whenever she wore it up because I loved biting on her neck. I loved having access to all parts of her, and before I dropped her off at home today, I was going to mark the fuck out of that smooth skin.

I watched her let out a deep breath before looking back up at me. “I don’t make friends because I have trust issues,” she announced.

“At five-years-old?” I flung back. “Because that’s when you started living on your little island of isolation, Jett.” I eyed her. “What possible trust issues could a five-year-old have?”

Her eyes were shooting a kaleidoscope of colors at me. “Not all of us were blessed with the last name Carver,” she replied. “It’s not easy for all people to make friends, Chasin.”

“You think I have friends?” I scoffed, letting out a dark laugh. “Baby, the last thing that I have are friends.”

“Are you kidding me?” she scoffed back. “You’re always surrounded by crowds of people.”

“Those people only want to hang out with my last name, Jett,” I informed her. “Do you honestly think that any of those people actually like me? If any of them viewed me as any kind of real friend, then West never would have started fucking my leftovers, David would have said something, and anyone else that hangs out with our crowd wouldn’t always be trying to sit on my dick or get an invitation to my house.”

I could tell that I had surprised her with that little revelation. “Maybe it’s not them,” she finally said. “Maybe it’s you.”

That got a smirk out of me. “I know it’s me, Jett,” I replied, surprising her some more. “I know that I’m the problem, but I really don’t care. I’m not living my life to be liked; I’m living it to win.”

“And what are you trying to win?”

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