Page 34 of Privilege
Cara.She’s the only good thing that came out of this whole fucking mess.When I saidyou don’t belong here,it was the biggest compliment I could ever give.
The girl has edges I wasn’t expecting. Guns hidden in her tits like an Austin Powers fembot. If I’d thoughtthe image of Rich’s balls slapping against her pussy was burned in my mind forever, the sight of Cara with her hand in Jamie’s pants and Jamie on her proverbial knees was the most satisfying thing I’d ever seen.She has me on my proverbial knees as well.
Her icy silence has been killing me for days, but I turn back to my computer.
Almost done.It’s almost over, a few more all-nighters like this one, and then I can get thefuckout of here.
You’d think I’d be good at this, what with all the years of liver fermentation and permanent sleep deprivation. But I’m exhausted. I’ve been working for days straight, trying to keep up with the emails and texts and calls and IMs andfucking carrier pigeons.I’m not willing to leave this to anyone else. I can’t.
What can I say—I have trust issues. And I guess I’m more like daddy dearest than anybody would have guessed.
I sit on the terrace off the servant’s kitchen, hands wrapped around an enormous mug of caffeinated bean juice. It’s early, and the sun hasn’t even crested the horizon yet. The balcony overlooks the grounds,probably so that the staff can see if anyone needs them, even on their breaks.
When I’m done here, I’m going to take a very,verylong break. Maybe in Fiji.
I glance at my laptop, the glaringone hundred and forty-twonew emails mocking my lack of sleep. No matter how hard I work, I can’t keep up.
Sometimes I wonder if my punishment for abandoning Rich is having him back now, when I’m so close to being done with this place forever.
There’s a bang behind me and some whispered cursing. I shift in my seat and see Cara, wandering around in the dark in bare feet and one of Rich’s uni shirts, her pale thighs glaring at me in the din like a fucking lighthouse. She’s limping a little and muttering under her breath.
“Lost?” I say.
She purses her lips and wanders towards me, seemingly unconcerned with wielding her legs like the weapons they are, and plunks herself down on the chair beside me.
I want to trace your freckles with my tongue.
She sniffs at my coffee and leans forward, the loose neck of Rich’s tee slipping a little. Her collarbone is exposed, wide open for the taking, andI fight the urge to cover her back up. Or bite it. Either or, really.
“What does a girl have to do to get some of that?” she says.
I lean back in my seat and spread my legs a little. She narrows her eyes but I raise my mug to my lips at the same time as I raise an eyebrow.
“Oh shut up, Dane,” she mutters.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Your face has fucking subtitles.”
“You’re very cranky today, Cara,” I say sweetly.
“I’m caffeine and sleep deprived. And I’m mad at you.”
She snatches the mug from me without so much as a thank you and starts chugging it like a keg stand on the fourth of July.
Don’t think about her lips touching your spit. Don’t think about your spit on her lips. Don’t think about spitting on—
I shake my head and get up to make another cup. She hands me the now-empty mug and nods at me. Like,make me more Dane. Chop chop.
The involuntary smile playing at my lips would irritate me if she weren’t so fucking adorable, with the pillow mark on her cheek and the rat nest in herblonde hair. I busy myself with making two more cups of coffee to keep from throwing her down on the terrace tile and fucking her until she screams.
“You look tired too,” she says.
“Mm.”
“What have you been up to?” Her voice is a tad accusatory for my liking.
“This and that.”
