“Why not?”
“Because I said no.” I rounded on him, my voice dropping low. “That silver tea set is the only thing she kept from her grandmother. She’s been holding onto it through eviction notices and my father’s bullshit for twenty years. You think I’m going to let some rich kid buy it back for me like it’s a fucking library fine?”
Karter didn’t flinch. “It’s two hundred bucks.”
“And then I owe you.” I stepped into his space. “That’s the deal, right? You cover the bill, and I spend the next six months knowing I couldn’t handle my own shit.”
“That’s not why I offered.”
“Then don’t offer.” My voice dropped. “I’m not your project.”
The silence stretched. Karter’s jaw worked, but he didn’t argue. He understood, or at least he understood enough to quit pushing. His hand found the collar of my hoodie anyway, knuckles pressing into my collarbone.
“Then stop shutting me out,” he said quietly.
I should have pushed him back. Instead, my hands locked onto his waist. The memory of a few nights ago, when Karter brought me food, pressed at the base of my skull: the weight of his shoulder, the quiet, the way I’d stopped bracing for disaster for ten whole minutes. It terrified me more than any scout or background check ever could.
Grabbing him by the hips, I drove him backward and followed his weight down onto the mattress. Our mouths crashed together. He rocked forward, grinding denim againstdenim until we were both straining. A rough noise tore out of my throat as he slid a knee between my legs.
Right next door, a metallic squeak vibrated through the cheap drywall.
Every muscle in my body turned to stone as a thought sprang to my mind:Matt shifting in his chair, maybe? Just three feet away.
“I told Matt we had to prep for the midterms,” Karter murmured, his breath hot against my mouth. “I said we needed a quiet study session.”
With a groan, I buried my face into Karter’s neck and bit down on the collar of his shirt to muffle my breathing.
Karter’s laugh ghosted against my ear, low and warm. He pulled back, sliding a hand down my arm.
“I think we may need to actually open a book.”
I didn’t move. “You brought one?”
“Three.”
“Of course you did.”
His teeth caught his lower lip, fighting another laugh. “Let’s start before Matt gets suspicious,” he whispered, nodding toward the wall.
“He probably thinks we’re grinding through chemistry.”
“Then let’s give him a convincing performance.” Karter was already reaching for his notes. “Try to sound as if you’re suffering.”
I scoffed. “I’m always suffering when you’re around.”
“Perfect. Method acting.”
I shoved myself off the mattress and stood, taking a harsh breath as I adjusted my cock inside my jeans.
Trying to study while I was half-hard wasn’t going to happen.
“Give me a minute,” I muttered, keeping my voice rough and low so it wouldn’t carry through the wall. “I need to hit the bathroom.”
Karter just gave a tight nod. Gripping the doorknob, I eased the bedroom door open to keep the hinges quiet and stepped out into the drafty hallway.
I walked down to the cramped shared bathroom, locked the door, and gripped the edges of the sink. After splashing freezing water on my face, I looked up at my own reflection in the spotted mirror.
Grimacing, I felt pissed off at how fragile this whole setup was. One wrong noise through that cheap drywall and my professional career was dead before it even got started. And my mom’s sacrifices would be for nothing.
