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“It’s been fun. This is my first time on the east coast.”
“And is Boston what you expected?”
She shrugged her delicate shoulders. “I don’t know if I had any expectations,” she admitted. “I was just happy to get away.” She exhaled loudly as though she’d been holding her breath tightly. Her eyes met mine, and I saw a slight panic. “Not that I don’t appreciate everything your parents have done for me.”
I held up a hand. “There’s no need,” I assured her. “I’m not offended.”
This made her laugh. “That’s interesting, because when I first got here you were offended by the very air I breathed.”
Parts of that were true, and parts weren’t. “I told you—”
Carla waved a hand over her face. “Yea, yea,” she muttered. “You were mad at your dad.” She snorted and rolled her eyes. “I can relate.”
“Really?”
This made her laugh, but this time, it was more sardonic than the ones before. “Do you really think that I wanted to come to New York?” she asked.
I reached out and took a sip of my wine. Though I wasn’t twenty-one, I’d learned that this place rarely carded, and I looked much older than eighteen. In this moment, I was glad to have the alcohol.
“I don’t know,” I said, lying. “You’ve never really told me why you came here.”
Carla stiffened, not doubt remembering how I’d pressed her several times about why she’d come to New York. I’d discovered the answer on my own, but I wasn’t about to make that known. Something told me that Carla would not like that I knew her secrets.
“Are we still on that?” Her pink lips pursed into a thin line as her frustration became evident.
“I’m just being honest with you,” I told her, ignoring the sickly feeling in my gut. I was anything but honest. “I’ve told you why my father and I don’t get along, but you haven’t shared anything.”
That part was the truth. After we slept together, I’d shared more of myself with Carla than I intended. For better or worse, the words had flowed out of me. Yet, Carla was still sharing in only dribs and drabs. It was clear that she didn’t trust me, and it made me not trust her.
“I didn’t ask you to share anything,” she snapped.
I felt myself start to tense, but I refused to give into the anger that was bubbling underneath the surface. There was no point in allowing myself to give into it. Doing so would only push Carla further away. And though I should want that, I didn’t.
“True,” I agreed coolly, taking another sip of my wine. The taste coated my tongue, and I savored it as I watched Carla turn her attention back to her food. Her eyes were trained on her pasta as she twirled it around her fork with a great deal of rigor.
I sighed. This was getting me nowhere. “Have you enjoyed Boston?” I asked, admitting defeat. The gulf between us, which I desperately wanted to close, only seemed to widen.
Carla looked at me with suspicion in her eyes, and I wondered if she wasn’t going to answer me.
“I have,” she said finally, placing her fork in her mouth. “The art museum was nice.”
I smirked. “And the library?”
Carla shifted slightly, probably remembering the way I fucked her against the stacks. At the art museum, I’d been tempted to take her in a corner and see if I could make her look at me with the same wide-eyed expression she had when she looked at the art.
Watching Carla appreciate things gave me more enjoyment than almost anything else in life. The way her eyes brightened and lips parted as she told me about the history of a piece or espoused an artist’s genius made me hard as a fucking rock.
“That was nice too.”
My brow lifted. “Just nice?”
Her cheeks turned pink, and I chuckled. I desperately wanted to slide my hands up her creamy thighs and press them into the wetness I was sure I would find there, but I didn’t. The tablecloth wouldn’t cover us, and I wasn’t lying when I said I didn’t want anyone seeing her that way.
The thought made me want to murder someone.
“Why did you bring me here?”
The question caught me off guard. “What do you mean? I thought you wanted to get out of the city?” Carla had never said as much, but I figured it was true. Though my parents didn’t watch any of us too closely, we all knew the expectations around Carla. Technically, I was in charge of her, which made us screwing all the more challenging.
