A Son of Carver (Carver High #2) (5 page)

“No,” she finally admits. “I mean, Angel’s my friend.”

“I said a
real
guy.”

“Please tell me you’re not insinuating that you’re more of a man than Angel is.”

“Of course that’s what I’m insinuating. Is that not obvious?”

“Here’s the problem with your little theory – you’re not the kind of man I want so I don’t think insight into how your brain works is actually gonna help me out.”

I laugh. “Because, when it comes to girls, his brain is on a different track than mine?”

“Exactly.”

“Wow, you have so much to learn. Too bad you don’t have someone to teach you.”

She picks her beer back up, swallows hard, sets it back down then captures her plump bottom lip between her teeth, causing my dick to twitch. She finally turns to me. “If you can tell me one thing I don’t already know about him, I’ll stay.”

“What’s in it for me?”

She narrows her eyes at me. “I’ll stay.”

“Not really much of an incentive.”

“This is the last time you will
ever
see me dressed like this. So, if you are so infatuated with my body, I would think that my presence alone would be enough motivation.”

“You forget that I can head on over to The End Zone and enjoy the view whenever I want.”

“Fine. Is there something specific you want to ask me for?”

Jesus Christ, is that a loaded question. I know all the things I can’t say, but I can’t think of one thing that I can say. “Answer one question for me?” I say out of nowhere, but the second the words are out there, I know what the question is. It’s been bugging me all week.

“Let me hear it first.” Everything about her expression and the tone of her voice is full of mistrust.

“All that stuff you told me on Monday – about your parents and your old school – was that some bullshit story you made up so I would feel bad and drop the class?”

Her expression goes from surprised to vulnerable in seconds. She protectively folds her arms over her stomach and tilts her head in a way that usually causes her hair to cover her face, but since it’s pulled back into a pony tail, she has nowhere to hide. “No. It wasn’t bullshit.”

Pressure builds in my chest reminding me that I do indeed have a heart and that Presley is a real person; one who has emotions and feels pain. And I wish there was something I could do to take some of that pain away; a feeling I’m becoming familiar with thanks to this new thing I have going on with Summer. “He’s all about the challenge and reward,” I tell her.

Her eyes slowly turn back to mine. “What?”

“Angel. The reason he’s not interested in dating is not because he prefers strictly sexual relationships. It’s because relationships can’t give him the same rush that he gets from being a
winner.
There’s no ranking system for relationships. He might be able to improve his skills in the bedroom, hell, I’m guessing he takes notes, sets goals and graphs all his sexual encounters. But relationships don’t work that way. Emotions are unpredictable and volatile. With sex, you have an orgasm, your girl has an orgasm – mission accomplished; there’s your reward. But no such thing exists with being a good boyfriend.”

“Nash… shut the hell up. You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“No?”

“No.”

She grabs her beer again and I grab mine. We sit in silence and I give her time to think because I know that when she does that she’ll realize I’m right.

“He says he doesn’t date because high school relationships are a pointless waste of time that take the focus off his own life, and no one finds their partner in high school.”

“I’m sure he doesn’t want to waste his time making anyone but himself happy. And there are a shit load of factors that go into being a good boyfriend. Girls are crazy. And needy. And he wouldn’t do it half assed… because he has to be the best. Do you know how much time and dedication that would take? How many unknowns he would have to take into account? I’m guessing just the thought of trying to put a mathematical equation to it has blown his mind more than once. Kid’s a pussy.”

“God… are you right?”

“Of course I’m right.”

“Shit. I think you might be.”

I roll my eyes. She really does think I’m completely useless.

“So what am I supposed to do?” she asks, turning to me, completely engaged for the first time ever. Maybe Summer was right after all.

“Be his fuck buddy?”

She takes another gulp of beer and averts her eyes which I’m quickly learning is her
I’m a human with feelings
tell.

“What?” I ask her.

“Not that I would consider doing that, but… he doesn’t want me.”

“Shut the hell up. Of course he wants you. If you haven’t figured that out yet, you’re completely blind. Kid can’t keep his hands off you.”

“Maybe he
wants me,
but I don’t fit his criteria.”

I can’t imagine a criteria in the
I want to use your body for sex
category that Presley wouldn’t fit. “You’re gonna have to elaborate on that one. I’m drawing a blank.”

She swallows down the rest of her beer and cracks a new one. “I can’t believe I’m even considering telling you this.”

“Are you a hermaphrodite?” I ask. It’s all I can come up with.

“What?” Her angry eyes flash to mine. “No. I’m a virgin.”

I laugh. “Is that supposed to be shocking?”

She stares at me, letting out the breath she was holding. “Maybe. I don’t know. I guess it’s just embarrassing. And I seriously can’t believe I just told you that.”

“You’re embarrassed about being a virgin?”

“Please don’t give me crap about it.”

“There’s no crap to give. And really Presley, it’s kind of obvious. I mean, as far as I can tell you hate all guys in general. Angel, for some unexplainable reason, being the exception.”

“I hate you. You’re the only guy I hate. And… I have a boyfriend.”

“You’re still trying to sell that bullshit, huh?”

She gawks at me. “It’s not bullshit.”

“It is bullshit. You can keep telling that to everyone else, but not to me. I don’t care if you have a boyfriend, if you’re a virgin or if you want to be Angel’s sex toy, so you might as well be real with me.”

“Whatever. Believe what you want but
technically
, I have a god damn boyfriend.”

“Well technically, I’m a male slut but I haven’t had sex for two long months, so I guess labels don’t really mean that much.”

“Ha,” she barks out a laugh. “Now who’s trying to sell bullshit?”

“I know I’m basically sex personified and I got girls crawling on my cock every day, but there’s only one bullshit proprietor around here and it’s
not
me.”

She gives me a mistrusting glare, then asks, “So, Mr. Relationship Expert, what’s your advice?”

“Depends on what you want.”

She rolls her eyes. “What do you think the chances are that he’ll ever want to date me?”

“Thought you had a boyfriend?”

“Thought you didn’t believe me?”

“I don’t.”

“Let’s say I didn’t have a boyfriend, what would you suggest I do then?”

“Make it worth his time. Be more important than winning. Be worth giving up his goals for. Change his mind.”

“And how do I do that?” she asks, pulling the tie out of her hair and running her nails through it. She lays back on my couch, kicks her feet up on the coffee table and folds her hands behind her head. I stare at her spread out body that is now completely relaxed even though I’m all up in her personal space. All I can think is
what a complete dumbass that kid is. How could he pass her up because she’s a
virgin?
Jesus Christ, he could be the first guy to have her. The first one to see her lose her mind and all control of that hot little body. The first one to give her and orgasm… maybe her first orgasm ever.
Suddenly the idea of giving her advice on how she could win over such a blind, stupid bastard seems like the worst idea ever conceived.

“Maybe you shouldn’t be so available to him. Maybe he needs to know you’re interested and that if he’s not, maybe he doesn’t get to be your friend.”
God damn stupid mouth.
“Or you could go with option B.”

“Which is?”

“Let me take your virginity so you’re worthy of being his fuck buddy.”

“I hate you, Nash Carter.”

She says it like she means it, but I no longer believe her. We’re getting somewhere, Presley and I. Pretty sure we’re gonna be damn good friends.

Now that football season is over, the new gathering place is Angel’s enormous detached garage turned swanky club featuring the sweet sounds of his band Celeste. Carver, Georgia is one weird backward place. The whole atmosphere shifts after the football season is done and you can feel the oppression take over as if no one has a purpose anymore.

There are no
Go Cougars!
signs in the store windows or stuck in people’s front yards. The chatter at The End Zone has shifted to politics and national matters. No pep rallies, face paintings or jerseys in school. No drama either.

The football players and cheerleaders still sit at the top of the food chain but Angel’s smart and alternative group of friends are now a big part of this social circle that has quadrupled in size. Of course people like Jolee and Colby consider him their paid entertainment. And paid he is. He charges them all ten bucks to get in the door. All they are to him is a paycheck. They’re too stupid to realize that.

Personally, I prefer the new Carver, but most people wouldn’t agree. The only downside is that another one of my potential refuges is gone. This garage has become the place Tatum, Brandon and I hang out when we’re together. Of course Angel’s here too. 

“So, b.f.f. again?” I ask Tatum as we stare at Brandon and Nash who are standing by the haphazard bar with beers in their hands – both laughing and smiling.

She shrugs her shoulders. “He’s actually been pretty decent.”

“Humph,” I mumble. Why am I the only one holding a grudge towards the guy? It makes no sense after what he did to her and Brandon. “Is he your friend now, too?”

“I don’t know about that. We still have math together, and of course he chose to sit by me again, which I wasn’t happy about but week one went okay. He doesn’t seem bitter anymore. I think he’s over it.”

“As in over you?”

“Yeah.”

“Doubtful. You know what he told me last night?”

“That’s right – you had your first assignment.” She pauses to laugh like this situation is
oh so funny
. “How’d that go?”

How’d that go?
Good question. When I left there I was more confused about life in general than I’ve ever been. Today, I’ve just been thinking of it as a weird dream. The stupid outfit I wore, the totally weird and random conversations I had with Nash…just the fact that I spent the entire night on his couch talking to him is so bizarre I can’t accept it as part of my reality. I ignore her question and get back to mine. “He told me he hasn’t had sex for two months,” I laugh.

She shrugs her shoulders again. “He does that sometimes.”

“Are you serious?”

“Not exactly. I mean, it’s what he did when we were in that stupid open relationship. He was having sex with me but not anyone else. Which basically meant he was getting a lot of blow jobs and hand jobs on the side.”

“What the hell is that about? God, the kid is messed up.”

“I think making out with girls but not having sex with them was him being good to me.”

Jesus, it all makes sense now. Screwing around with a plethora of girls but not actually having sex with them does not an anti-manwhore make. And, honestly, for a second I was seriously considering that he was right about Angel and that his dating advice could potentially make sense.

Advice. From Nash. About dating.

Dear God, please send me some sanity, just one small corner of the world where I can sit and think, clear my head and be alone because I’m losing my ability to reason. And, seriously, why does Tatum not hate the man?

Brandon and Nash come sauntering over to the loveseat Tatum and I are on. Brandon pulls her up and resituates her on his lap… which leaves room for Nash to cram into the middle of us. I lean as far away from him as possible and let the sounds of displeasure gurgle out of my mouth.

“What was that?” he asks me.

“I didn’t say anything,” I tell him, annoyed, not looking at him.

He laughs his stupid laugh. “So you’ll tolerate me, even spend hours on a couch next to me, when no one can see you doing it, but in public we’re back to this. Or maybe it’s the fact that you’ve got your bitch uniform back on.”

I glare at him, and when I see his ever present half grin I’m tempted to throw my beer at him. “They,” my eyes veer to Tatum and Brandon for a second, “might be naive enough to believe that there is a decent human being hiding under this mass of muscle, but you’re not fooling me. I don’t know what the hell I was thinking last night, opening up to you, but you need to forget that ever happened. From now on, it’s strictly a work thing between us. Which reminds me, we didn’t even get any work done last night which means I have to go to your house
again.
God damn it, Nash Carter.”

He laughs. He always laughs. “I’m starting to get it.”

I look at him. I don’t want to ask, but I do anyways. “Get what?”

“The whole entertaining thing. You are highly entertaining, Presley Knox. God damn it.”

“Shut up.”

He gives me one more amused laugh before turning his attention to Brandon and Tatum. “Race season starts next week. You gonna be there to cheer me on?” he asks them.

“Yeah, man,” Brandon tells him and I cringe at the fact that he is so willingly supporting this man who screwed him over. “We’ll be there.”

“We’ll be there?” Tatum asks, looking up at her adoring boyfriend.

“No?” he asks, giving her a kiss on her mouth. I see Nash flinch out of the corner of my eye. If I were Brandon and Tatum, I wouldn’t trust him, but of course no one listens to me.

“You know I don’t watch you race,” she tells Nash.

“Fine. But are you gonna help me get Ruby ready?”

She barks out a laugh. “No. I don’t help you with anything anymore. You should know that by now.”

“I thought we were friends?” he says in some cutesy stupid voice. I’m sure he’s giving her the puppy dog eyes. “Isn’t that what you said in your article – all you want is for the three of us and Summer to be friends again?”

“Don’t do that, asshole,” Brandon says. “We’re trying. Which is more than you should expect from us. I’ll be at your race but don’t ask her for anything. She owes you absolutely nothing.”

I internally cheer. That’s exactly what Nash deserves.

“I’m getting a drink,” Tatum says, standing and pulling Brandon up with her. He wraps an arm around her and they’re already in the middle of some intense conversation so I don’t follow them.

“Kid needs to relax. I don’t know how she puts up with his uptight ass,” Nash says, probably to himself, but since I’m sitting right next to him…

“Oh, yes, he’s such a pain in the ass – sticking up for her because her asshole ex-boyfriend is trying to snake his way back into her life. He’s not stupid Nash. He knows you’d screw him over in a second if it meant getting her back.”

He looks at me, eyebrows raised. “I don’t want her back. I know you think I’m some kind of monster but I’m actually happy for her. It took a while to get here, but it’s where I am.”

“Then why would you say that to her?”

“Say what? Can you help me work on my car? I could use some help and she’s got those long, skinny fingers that come in handy. Or what – the friend thing? Am I the only one that read that article? Because it’s what she said – she wants us all to be friends again. I’m trying to give that to her.”

“I can’t tell if you’re completely full of crap or if you’re just stupid.”

He looks irritated now as he shakes his head at me. “I’m trying with you too, Presley, I really am but you’re making it impossible. You realize that, don’t you?” His focus shifts to somewhere behind me. “Believe whatever the hell you want but I’ve moved on.” He gives me one last contemptuous glare before standing and walking away.

I watch him as he makes his way behind me to where Summer is standing. She gives him a huge smile and he wraps her up in his arms. And then it’s like they remember that they’re hiding whatever the hell is going on between them as they both take steps away from each other and continue their conversation – her with her hands stuffed in her pockets and him with his arms crossed tightly over his chest like they’re both doing their damndest to keep their hands off each other.
Maybe he has moved on.

“What are you scowling at?” I turn and see Angel hovering above me, a wicked grin on his face.

The last thing I want to think about when I’m with Angel is
him,
so I tell him, “Nothing.”

“Alright,” he says, plopping down beside me – his long legs jutting out in front of him, his arm wrapped around my shoulders.

“Shouldn’t you be up on that stage?” I ask, glancing at his bandmates that are busy setting up equipment.

“Probably, but I saw you over here looking all pissed off so I had to come see what was wrong.”

“I’m good,” I assure him. “Are you nervous?”

“Nervous?” he asks, his face all screwed up with confusion.

“Of course you’re not nervous. That was a stupid question,” I say as the verbatim words he used to describe his musical abilities to Tatum come back to me. “You don’t do anything half assed, right? And the best thing you can have as a front man is a big brain.”

“Right,” he agrees.

“And you’ve been reading music since you were four.”

“Three, actually. I started composing music when I was four.”

“Ah, yes. I believe there was also something about brilliant lyrics and a sweet voice.”

“Bingo.”

When he first spoke those words I was turned on. His confidence is definitely attractive, and he always backs up his words with his abilities. But now, all I can think about are the things Nash said about him – that he doesn’t date because it’s impossible to be the best or get an award.
Damn him.

“Are you still gonna be here after our set?”

“Why do you wanna know?” I ask, defensive with him in a way I only reserve for Nash.

“Seriously. What’s wrong?” he asks, taking his arm off my shoulder so he can rotate his torso and look at my eyes. His hand slips around my legging covered thigh and a shiver runs through my entire body.

“Sorry. Seriously, it’s nothing.”

“Okay. I was asking if you’re going to be around ‘cause I’d like to hang out with you after everyone’s gone.”

I smile at him. “I rode with Tatum and Brandon so I guess it’s not up to me.”

“I can bring you home,” he says suggestively, cocking his head at me.

I bite the inside of my cheek, suddenly all kinds of nervous. “Yeah, okay,” I tell him, sounding like a scared little girl.

He smiles at me but it’s different than his normal smile. His mouth is tempting, his eyes are lazy- god, is he sexy. “I’ll be back in an hour. Don’t move.”

I laugh. “Don’t move?”

“Well yeah, you can move, but don’t go.”

“I won’t,” I assure him, feeling all giddy inside.

He leans forward, plants a kiss on the corner of my mouth, then stands and heads back to the stage.

His lips have left me but I can feel where they were like I’ve been branded. I’m brought back to the night Tatum dared him to kiss me – which he totally did. I’ve never been kissed like that. As with everything else, he was confident and in control. And he knew exactly what he was doing with those lips and his tongue. They claimed me, they totally schooled me and they left me with a permanent desire that I’m pretty sure will never be fulfilled.

Or maybe it will. I’m assuming he doesn’t want me sticking around so we can talk. If Nash is right about him (yes, I’m back to considering that it’s a possibility) then maybe being the best at making out is an option. As opposed as he is to virgins, I’m equally opposed to losing my virginity to a one night stand – even if it’s with Angel.

I spend the rest of the night on the couch hypnotized by his captivating voice; it’s strong and deep and snakes through my body like an aphrodisiac.
I’m totally screwed
. And my nerves have caused me to drink too much beer, so by the time Celeste is done and Angel has made his way through the crowd of new-found fans and to me, I’ve passed buzzed and am well on my way to drunk. Which was really stupid because Angel hates drunk people.
Perfect, Presley.