Page 15 of Too Late

Damn him for sitting by me in class.

Damn him for showing up at my house.

Damn him for being involved with Asa.

Damn him for bringing me here.

Damn him for holding my hand.

Damn him for being so nice.

Damn him for being everything I wish Asa was, and everything I wish I could have.

I wash my hands no less than three times, but I can still feel him. I can still feel his fingers laced with mine … the rough skin of his palm pressed against my hand … the way he pulled me behind him, guiding me through the restaurant … the tingle on my palm that won’t go away, no matter how hard I scrub.

I squirt more soap into my hands and wash them for the fourth time, then work up the nerve to finally exit the bathroom and take a seat back in the booth.

“I figured you’d want some caffeine,” Carter says, pointing to the soda in front of me.

He figured right.Damn him.I slide the drink closer to me and place the straw between my lips. “Thanks.”

He props his feet up on my side of the booth, blocking me in again. “You’re welcome,” he says, shooting me a smile that’s on the verge of seductive, and even a little bit cocky. I catch myself staring at his lips for a beat too long, and his smile widens.

“Don’t smile at me like that,” I snap, annoyed that he’s making this harder on both of us with his subtle flirtations. I force my back against the booth and kick my legs onto the seat next to him.

The smile disappears from his face when he drops his gaze down to my arms. Anger returns to his eyes when he notices the fading bruises plastered on me like I’ve been branded.

That’s how they make me feel, anyway.

I run my hands up my arms to cover them, suddenly feeling exposed.

“You don’t want me to smile at you?” he asks, a confused expression strewn across his face.

“No,” I say. “I don’t. I don’t want you to smile at me like you like me. I don’t want you to sit next to me in class. I don’t want you to hold my hand. I don’t want you to flirt with me. I don’t even want you to buy me lunch, but I’m too hungry to really care about that one right now.” I bring my drink to my mouth to shut myself up. I hate that I’m being so mean to him right now, but the longer I’m putting us both at risk by being here with him, the angrier I grow at my own stupidity.

Carter looks down at his glass and runs his hands up it, wiping off the condensation. “You want me to be mean to you, then?” He looks at me with an expression so cold, I don’t even recognize him. “You want me to treat you like shit? The way Asa treats you?” He leans back in the booth, folding his arms over his broad chest. “I didn’t peg you as a doormat when we first met.”

I return his heated stare with just as much fury. “I didn’t peg you as a dealer,” I snap back. We hold each other’s gazes, refusing to be the one who cracks first.

It’s him. A smug smile spreads across his face. “I guess I do have that going for me. Dealer? Check. Asshole? Check. Want me to treat you like shit? Seems to work wonders for Asa.”

His cruel words are like a direct punch to my gut, knocking the breath out of me. “Fuck you,” I say through clenched teeth.

“No thanks. Apparently, I’d have to hurt you first, and that’s not my style.”

I successfully fight back tears after that dig. I’ve spent my whole life teaching myself how to not cry in front of assholes. I’ve got this. “Take me back to my car,” I say.

Carter’s eyes suddenly fill with apology. He runs his hand down his face, groaning in frustration. Or regret. “I’ll take you after you eat something.”

I scoot over in the booth until my thigh meets his feet. “I’m not hungry. Let me out.”

He doesn’t move his feet, so instead I pull my legs up and stand up in the booth, then jump over him. I head for the door, never having wanted to get away from someone so quickly in my entire life.

“Sloan,” he calls after me. “Sloan!”

I swing the door open and walk outside—a rush of wind colliding with my face as I gasp for air. I bend over and put my hands on my knees, inhaling through my nose and out my mouth, over and over. When the threat of tears subsides, I straighten up and walk toward his car. The alarm beeps twice and the doors unlock. I turn around, but he isn’t following me—he’s still inside the restaurant.

Damn him. He just unlocked the car for me.

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