Page 48 of The Star

“No, I’m not thinking of you,” I answer.

I hear him let out a breath. “You’re lying.”

I search my mind for a retort, but I’m so completely caught off guard by the entire situation I find myself in, that I can’t find anything smart to say. There’s a part of me that wants to tell him how arrogant and frustrating he is, how he drives me absolutely crazy thinking that he’s the center of the universe, but the other part of me wants to tell him how much I really was thinking about him all night, that maybe lately it feels like heisright in the center of my universe, using his own magnetic pull to make the earth continue to turn for me.

“Did you kiss him?” he asks, malice lacing his tone.

I don’t answer, my head still floating around the room as my chest heaves and my palms sweat.

“Did you fuck him?” He continues. “Let him inside that tight pussy of yours?”

I press my lips together, dropping my eyelids closed as my back sags against the door at my back.

“Did you think about me while he slipped inside you? Did you think about my tongue on your clit in the dressing room?” Carson breathes, making my stomach fill with bubbles like I’ve downed an entire bottle of soda. “Did you imagine it was my dick in that sweet mouth?”

My mouth falls open, my breath coming out in shallow pants. “Carson.”

“Tell me, Logan. Did you come as hard with him as you do with me?” His voice is tight, like he’s holding himself on a leash as he presses the phone close to his face.

“Did you think about how good it will feel when I finally fuck you? When I finally bury myself so deep inside of you that you’ll feel it for a week?”

My teeth bite down on my bottom lip as my clit pulses, his words going straight to my core and heating me from the inside out. I hold back the groan that’s sitting at the back of my throat, not willing to show him how he’s affecting me.

“Talk to me,” he growls once more. “Tell me.”

I swallow through the lump in my throat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He chuckles. “Don’t play coy with me now, Logan.”

“How do you know what I’m doing?” I breathe.

I hear him shift, like he’s getting himself comfortable. “You can’t hide from me.”

“Wanna bet?” I respond, humor in my voice, then I hang up. Shutting my phone off, I can’t help the grin stretching across my face. Even though I’m frustrated and annoyed by his caveman bullshit, I know that it gives me all the goddamn power.

Boys are easy, and if Carson Raines thinks he’s even the least bit smarter than me, or better at playing the game than me, he’s dumber than I initially thought.

twenty-five

CARSON

When I was a kid, my dad used to take me out to the beach in the middle of the night. We would sit down on the sand and stare out at the ocean or up at the sky in complete silence. We did this for months before I finally asked why.Why do you come out here, Dad?Why do you bring me?

He looked at me, stubble lining his youthful face and said,“I want you to know peace, Carson.”

I didn’t know at the time, but my father had never known peace, even out on the beach with me. Even as his face went calm and he let the ocean breathe for him, he wasn’t filled with peace. He was struggling, plagued with everything in his life that he hid from me and my mother.

It’s funny, though, because I did find peace in the serenity that my dad was showing me – even if he didn’t – I found peace within the beach, the ocean, the sand, the stars.

Even as a child, someone who hadn’t even started really living yet, the peace I found out on the beach grounded me in ways that have helped me every single day of my life. Even after my father killed himself, even after the scandals that followed his death, even when I watched my mother spiral down a hole of depression.

I became the man of the house, and I was able to do that because of the tranquility my father introduced me to out on the private strip of beach I grew to love.

I don’t want to mislead anyone. Yes, I became the man of the house, but I was still very privileged. We had chefs and housekeepers to take care of things, I had platinum cards with my own name on them by the time I was twelve, and everything was served to me on a very shiny and silver platter. My mom had family money, and we had my dad’s money to cushion us as well.

I was lucky. A lot of people aren’t put into similar situations when they lose a parent. Some kids really do have to step up, take care of things, learn to cook, and all that. And I’m still lucky. I got through my dad’s suicide with little-to-no severe emotional scarring. Sure, it was sad. It was confusing and life altering, but I’m okay. I’m not curled in a ball wondering why he did it.

I know why he did it.

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