Page 63 of Shots on Net

“It’s very cold, and I’m very small,” I say, widening my eyes to look innocent. “And very, very naked.”

Carter glares at me ineffectually, before slipping out of bed. I’m glad he’s the one who got up—now I get a few moments to stare at the back side of a naked Carter. The light flicks off and a few seconds later the mattress compresses as he slides back in next to me. He scootches in close until I can feel his breath on my face in the darkness.

“Now I’m the one who’s very cold,” he says, trying and failing to sound harmless. “And very, very naked.”

Smiling, even though he can’t see it, I put an arm around him. “Yes, alright, come here.”

He comes; his face presses against my neck and a heavy leg slides between mine. I’m not sure which of us falls asleep first, but it’s the best sleep I’ve had in ages.

???

Carter’s parents’ house is less of a house and more of an estate. There is a gate—manned by an actual security guard—who lets us pass through, up the winding driveway to the house. The closer we get to the house, the more freaked out I become. I’d known he was rich, but I hadn’t known he was rich. When the building itself comes into view, I lean forward in my seat and shake my head.

“What the fuck,” I mutter, and hear Carter scoff.

“Oh, just wait. The inside is worse. There is a pool out back, as well as a three-hole golf course and a tennis court. The pool is heated, too, so you can use it year-round.” He sounds disgusted as he says this, and scowls fiercely at the house as he parks his car out front. I climb out of the passenger side just as Carter slams the driver’s side door so hard I’m surprised the glass didn’t shatter.

I walk around the vehicle to join him on his side. Reaching into the backseat, he pulls out the duffel bag of our stuff. Technically we have the entire week off for spring break, but we’ll only be here for one night so we shared a bag. He slams the backdoor shut as well, slinging the bag over his shoulder. I wonder if we even have to knock on the door or if our presence was effectively announced with the door slamming. Carter holds his hand out to me and I grasp it, gratefully.

“Do you have a key? Or do we just…” For some reason, even though I know this is his family home, it feels strange to just walk inside. This feels like a place you have to be granted entry to, no matter who you are.

“Knock. Nobody but Mom and Jonesy will be here. I don’t want to scare the shit out of them by barging inside. Half the time when I say I’m going to come home to visit, I don’t bother showing up,” he says, grinning wolfishly and pounding a fist on the front door. Yes, I think, because that knocking won’t scare anybody.

The door is eventually answered by a man wearing a crisp button-up shirt and black pants. I squeeze Carter’s hand a little tighter. Is that a fucking butler?

“Hey, Jonesy,” Carter says, not waiting for an invite before stepping inside.

“Mister Carter. How nice of you to join us.” The man’s sharp eyes trail over to me and down my arm to where my hand is engulfed by Carter’s. “And a guest. Your mother will be delighted.”

“I can only imagine,” Carter responds. “Same room as last time?”

“No, sir. There are some renovations being done, so you’ll be in the pool house.” Again, his eyes track over to me before settling back on Carter. “More privacy.”

Carter grunts and the other man reaches for his bag. Carter jerks away from him, swiftly. “I got it.”

He gives my hand a gentle tug and starts walking down a hallway to our left. From my vantage point by the door, I can see two staircases and four other doorways to choose from. The floor looks like it might be made of marble, and I can hear the tinkling of water as though there is a fountain somewhere inside. I’m horribly aware of the fact that I stepped in dog poop yesterday, and probably wasn’t successful in scraping all of it off of my shoes.

“I’ll let the kitchen know to prepare you some lunch, sir. I’m sure you’re hungry from your drive.”

Carter waves a hand over his shoulder, not looking back at the man. I shoot him a grateful smile over my own shoulder, but he’s already turned away. The sound of our shoes on the marble floor feels ridiculously loud; I have the strangest desire to whisper.

“Uhm, who was that?” I ask. My voice echoes, slightly, even though I was talking low.

“Mr. Jones,” Carter says, and I laugh. He smirks at me. “I know. He came to work here when he was really young, I guess, sixteen or something. My mom hired him to clean the pool or some shit. Anyway, he must have made himself useful and kissed my dad’s ass just right, because they kept him around. He’s worked for my parents for…twenty-five years? Maybe more. I don’t fucking know how old he is.”

“Huh. And is he a…butler? Manservant?”

“Personal assistant, maybe? To tell you the truth, I usually go temporarily deaf whenever someone is telling me the finer points about my dad’s business and the family legacy.”

I laugh again, squeezing his hand, grateful that my Carter wasn’t left behind at SCU. It takes us fifteen minutes to get to the pool house, which ends up being an actual house that just happens to live by the pool and contain pool-related items. We bypass these and go upstairs where there are not one, but two bedrooms. Carter takes us into the larger of the two, throws the duffel bag on the floor and flops down on the bed.

“I’m ready to go home,” he says. I lay down next to him.

“It’s only one night,” I say, consolingly. He sighs. “I’m ready to go home, though, too.”

“One night,” he agrees, sitting up. “What do you want to do? We could hop in the pool, if you wanted. Or go eat. Jonesy said he was having lunch put out.”

“I didn’t bring a swimsuit,” I tell him. I don’t even own a swimsuit. He grins, and it looks twice as wolfish as before.

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