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I’m not even halfway down the stairs when I hear Carter’s voice, but it’s not until I’m right in front of the kitchen that I can make out what they are saying. “I just wanted her to have some fun. I didn’t think she would go overboard like that.”
“Why didn’t you stop her?” Lucca growls.
“I tried.”
When I finally enter the kitchen, I find Lucca and Carter sitting at the table. Both of their heads snap up the moment I enter.
“Stop yelling at Carter. Actually, stop yelling in general. My head hurts.”
“That happens when you drink half the bar’s liquor,” Lucca murmurs so low I have to read his lips.
“Exactly. I did it. I made that choice, so there is no reason to bite off Carter’s head for something I did.”
“You wouldn’t have been there if it wasn’t for him. Giving you a fake ID is on him.”
“You know what, you’re right. Sorry for being a normal teenager for once in my life. Sorry that Carter actually cares enough to spend time with me on my birthday.”
At my words, I see Lucca flinch. A painful expression crosses his face, and I’m almost sorry I mentioned it. Almost.
“I care,” Lucca defends. “I fucking care about your safety. You put yourself in danger, making out with random guys at a club. Do you even know the stuff that could have happened to you?”
“I could have had sex, you mean? Like every other eighteen-year-old—”
“You are not every other eighteen-year-old! I don’t give a shit how grown up you think you are. You will not put yourself in dangerous situations like that ever again, or so help me god, I’ll lock you up somewhere.”
“You don’t get to decide anything for me!” I yell back. “I don’t understand why you can’t just leave me the hell alone?”
“Is that really what you want? For me to leave you alone?”
“Yes!” I lie. I want the opposite of that, but I want it in a way Lucca doesn’t, and I’m not going to make myself vulnerable to him again.
“Well, too bad. That’s not going to happen. You are mine to take care of, and you will do what I say. Starting with no more funny business with random guys.”
“You can’t control me, and you sure as hell will not control who I make out with.”
“I don’t need to control who you make out with because there is not going to be anyone else to make out with, ever again,” he sneers, making me wonder if that’s jealousy I hear in his voice or if my ears are deceiving me.
Is he jealous of me kissing someone else? My heart rate picks up at the thought. No, don’t be stupid, Claire. He broke your heart before. He made you feel stupid, told you it was nothing but a crush. Testing out that theory, I dig the knife a little deeper.
“I kiss guys all the time, Lucca. It’s not a big deal.”
His stupidly gorgeous face turns bright red, and his hands ball into tight fists on the table. I’m guessing he is either jealous or angry for some other reason. I’m going to bank on the jealousy, though, since he looks like he wants to rip my tongue out of my mouth.
“I know you’re lying. Did you forget Carter keeps me up to date on everything you do? Everywhere you go, everyone, you see. I know everything.”
A sudden surge of anger fills my veins. Carter has become my friend, and to be honest, he is the only friend I have, but like all things, Lucca just ruined that. He reminded me that Carter is only here to babysit me. I knew Carter reported back to Lucca.
Still, the reminder feels like a betrayal all over again. Like a knife in my back that I can’t reach to remove, so I feel it there all the time.
Betrayal and anger sting so bad, but nothing is as bad as the sadness. It fills me, suffocating me, making it hard to breathe, to think rationally.
I’m not sure which one of those feelings brings me to what I say next. Maybe it’s a combination of all three that pushes me over the edge, or maybe it’s that I want to hurt Lucca the way he’s hurting me.
“Did Carter also report back to you we’ve been fucking for the last year?”
As soon as the words leave my lips, I know I’ve made a terrible mistake.
I want to take it back, force the words back down my throat and erase them from existence, but I can’t. I can’t, and that is the terrible truth. Before I have the chance to explain myself, Lucca is on his feet.
The chair he was sitting in falls to the ground; the crashing sound it makes is dull compared to the sound the table makes as he grabs the edge and flips it over, and tosses it aside like it weighs two pounds. Lucca’s face morphs into something else.
