Chapter 7
CHAPTER 7
ETHAN
K ayla's a good lay. Real enthusiastic. Women, goddamn. Just say the right words in the right combination, and you can pretty much get them to do anything a man could want. Toward the end, she gets all lovey-dovey, holding my face and kissing me.
I almost puke, but I've gotta stay the course. I've got a plan, so I kiss her back.
"I love you," I whisper.
She gasps as it ends, collapsing against me. "We've only been talking for two weeks," she says.
I hold her so gently, stroking my hand through her hair, letting her feel this so-called love bursting between us. I wonder what that little note deep in my gut is, that pulse—maybe a shred of guilt. I bury it far down, remembering the cigarette-stained walls and the sting of Dad's belt and my mom's dead-eyed stare, not even watching the TV, just existing in the same room.
"It doesn't matter," I tell Kayla. "I loved you the second I saw your photograph. I love you so, so much."
She squeezes her hand against my chest. My heart is beating steadily despite the exertion. My heart always beats calmly. It's a habit I cultivated as a kid. No matter what happened around me, I wouldn't let my heartbeat get out of control.
"I want to say it back," she murmurs, "but I'm scared. I've been hurt before."
I kiss her tenderly on the lips. "I'd never hurt you," I lie, "but it's okay. I can wait."
She sits up, still naked, seeming comfortable around me. "I should get back soon."
"Where are you staying?" I ask.
She's being cagey about that. We've talked a lot on the dating app, but this is our first time meeting in person. It took a long time for me to match with her—endless swiping and using different photos and names. The name that cracked the code was Ethan . The photo was an image of me and a stranger's dog. I told the stranger it was for a college project. I told Kayla the dog passed away a few months ago— sympathy points.
"Do you mind if I don't say?" she murmurs.
Yes, I do mind. "Of course not," I tell her, trailing my fingers down her body. "I've just got a very special question to ask your dad, that's all."
Her eyes widen. A smile spreads across her lips. She's incredibly na?ve. I guess that happens when you've got a billionaire for a daddy. "Don't be silly."
"For his blessing…"
She sits up, trying to pretend she's mad, but she's still smiling. "Ethan."
I'm still getting used to associating that name with myself. My phone vibrates from the bedside table of my two-week-lease apartment. She thinks I've lived here for years. It might be them asking for an update.
I move my fingers along her bony spine. She shivers like it's the most pleasure she's ever experienced. I'm good at manipulating people, even them . Sure, I agreed to do what they wanted, but maybe I'll just ride this train for as long as possible. I'll have to decide. Me . Not Dad. Not dead-eyed Mom. Not my teachers, who never gave a shit.
Me .
"Can I see you soon?" I ask. "I don't want this to be a casual thing. I'm old-fashioned, Kayla."
She looks at me over her shoulder. For a second, I almost let that tiny ember of guilt flare into self-hatred. The hope on her face is almost devastating. "Maybe I'll ask Dad if you can come for dinner or something?"
I smile. That's exactly what I wanted to hear, but I can't seem too eager. "Only if you're comfortable with that."
She gets dressed and heads out to her car. I could follow her, but it's too risky. If she caught me, the whole game would be over, and I need this. Life is so much more interesting when I'm on the hunt.
I pick up my phone and read the text. Tick-tock …
"Go fuck yourselves," I mutter.