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The photos are explicit. Nate between the brunette’s legs, Nate licking the black girl’s tits, and a video of Nate wanking himself over their bodies.
Jesus, he must be seriously pissed at his dad to let this happen.
Something tells me that if I don’t handle the situation now, he’s likely to do worse next time, escalating his behavior to get a response.
He’s not the first or the last to have resorted to that tactic. Our parents are, as a general rule, too busy for us, unless we make them pay attention.
If he’d misbehaved last year, his dad would have had to deal with him, but he’s eighteen now, and a full junior Heritage member—which makes him my problem.
“All right, get out. And you,” I say to Nate, “in the shower. Be ready in five.”
“I’m not your fucking lackey, Hunt.”
“Be ready in five, or I tell the board the truth: I couldn’t handle you. They’ll punish you, and they’ll punishme. Do you want to know what I’ll do to you then, Carmichael?”
He glares at me, but then he does get up and drag his naked ass to the shower.
Nate comes out with red eyes, but otherwise in much better shape, and thankfully, dressed. “All right, I’m ready. What do you want?”
“Breakfast, for one. Then you can tell me what you dad did to piss you off and I can work out a way of getting back at him that doesn’t hinder your future—or mine. Yeah?”
“You’d do that?”
I don’t know why he looks so surprised. It’s not like it’s the first time I’ve stepped in. And I like Nate. He’s a little too bougie for my taste, but he’s nouveau riche. He can’t help it.
“You have my full attention for one day, Nate. Don’t waste it.”
ChapterTwenty-One
Camden doesn’t text, or come back to the café for days. By Friday, I decide he’s probably found a shiny new toy to harass. I’m relieved. It’s great news. He clearly lost interest.
I skate hard every morning, but this week, I push myself even harder, though my feet aren’t happy with me on Saturday morning.
Rollerblades are a new interest to me, but I’ve thrown myself into it thoroughly. I skated a few times in the ice rink with Erica—though she's much faster and more graceful than I ever could be—but the hills in Thorn Falls were far too steep to think of taking up rollerblading.
When I first arrived in LA, I was restless, and one day Pauline offered me the rollerblades she doesn’t use, as we’re almost the same size. I found the sport natural—easier than trying to balance on ice, and more fun. I enjoy the speed, the wind in my hair, my music blasting in my ears.I don't go to ramps to jump or try fancy figures; I just roll along the beach in the early morning.
I'm so tired every day, I probably shouldn't waste more energy skating, but if I don’t, I might be in bed thinking instead. That’s not an option. Not this week. I need to outrun all thoughts of an infuriating giant with golden eyes.
After two hours of racing along the beach, I’m slow on my way back home, to avoid knocking over anyone through the streets.
"How did I miss you?"
I lose my footing, stumble, and somehow manage to rotate rather than fall on my ass.
Camden's sitting on a bench right in front of my apartment.His chuckle completes my humiliation.
"What are you doing here?"
“That again? Don't be tedious. When you see me at your work, or in front of your place, it's because I want to see you,” he spells out.
“Right, like you wanting to see me once a week is the most natural, logical of things.” That didn’t come out right. I know I’ve messed up even before a smirk spreads on Camden’s irritatingly perfect face.
I shouldn’t have implied I noticed how long he stayed away. I shouldn’t have noticed at all.
He’s quick to leap on the opening. “You missed me, princess?”
“Ugh, go away.”
