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“I might not be rich, Casper, but at least I get to choose my future. How long until you go to work at your daddy’s law firm? I’m sure falling in line will besomuch fun.”
I’ve turned into a raging bitch, too. I hate that he does this to me. He only took five days to break me. I was civil up until that point. Now I just want to beat him over the head with my words and a mace every time I see him.
“And what’s in your future? Working in a greasy café and having boring sex with your mechanic husband.” His eye twitches, but I don’t know if that’s due to him regretting his words or the water rolling down his face.
My uncle, the man who stepped up to raise me, is a mechanic. Casper is such an ignorant prick.
I ball my hands into fists, but I won’t use them and give him the satisfaction of knowing how much his words get to me.
He can say what he wants about me, but not my family.
“Still, that’s much better than what your future wife has in store, waiting for you to come home from a soul-destroying day playing your father, only to realise the minute you step through the door that she married the Devil. Wait, what am I saying? You don’t have a soul.”
He watches me with dead, bored eyes. “Have you finished?”
I wish I’d never started. I get sucked in every time he looks at me with his cocky expression and air of superiority. I don’t care how much money someone has. I’m not intimidated because his parents are scary, high-profile lawyers, representing even richer, shady people.
Casper gets away with a lot because of who his parents are. People bend the rules and give in to him. Whatever he wants, he gets. It drives meinsane.
“I’m sorry, can you repeat what you were saying? I didn’t hear you over the yawning,” I say.
I’ve turned juvenile again and need to bring myself back.
Before Casper can respond, I hold my palm up to silence him. “Enough. I don’t even know why I thought asking you for anything would be a good idea. Forget it.”
“Wait.” He pushes himself off his car and leans closer, his eyes filling with some sort of life. “What were you going to ask me?”
He’s like those evil people in Stephen King’sDoctor Sleep. Instead of draining the ‘gift’ from children, he drains my sanity. It seems to be the only thing he enjoys.
I never hear him in the bedroom, so he can’t be that into the women he sleeps with. He never calls out their names.
Could be because he doesn’t know them.
Rain begins to pour down like a waterfall, bouncing off his shoulders, but he’s so fixed on me that he doesn’t flinch. It’s like he doesn’t even notice it.
“I was going to ask if you’ve taken all your meds today, but I can see that you haven’t,” I say.
“You want me to drive you home.”
It’s a calculated guess. We’re neighbours, and the rain’s coming down like a hurricane.
“I’d rather get picked up hitchhiking by a serial killer.”
He shrugs. “I know of some great legal representation for this serial killer. I’ll even work pro bono.”
“You don’t have a licence to practice yet, prick,” I mutter and walk away from him… straight into the rainstorm. Gritting my teeth, I seethe as I walk around his pretentious dark grey Porsche, managing to keep it together enough to not kick a tyre.
He doesn’t say anything else, but Ifeelthe daggers he’s glaring into my back as if he’s actually taking a breadknife to my spine.
Walking in the pelting rain is much more pleasant than being around Casper. Hell, walking in bleach would be. The water washes away my momentary lapse in judgement. As if I thought it was a good idea to ask anything of him.
Never again.
I shiver against the chilly spring wind, wiping water from my face only to have it back again the next second. The journey home only takes about fifteen minutes because there’s a cut through on a housing estate that separates the city centre from the outskirts.
When I get home, I’ll have to assess the damage to my books and notes from my lectures. It will be far less stressful to write everything again than it is to spend five minutes in Casper’s company, anyway.
I wish there was something in my degree I could use to take him down, but I’m not sure how event management will be helpful. One day, he’ll see that I’m working for a top firm, planning sporting ceremonies like the World Cup or the Olympics.
