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“Sorry, man. We didn’t know.”
“I fucking hope so.” His hand grabs one of my boobs. My eyes peek down, watching his knuckles crusted with blood squeezing hard and making me wince. “Cause I really,reallyhate people touching my stuff.”
“She didn’t have the…the usual, you know?”
And by theusual,he means the necklace Caden leaves on every woman he fucks. Every time I see a girl walking around with hickeys going from just below her ear to her chin, I know Caden had sex with her. Most of the women in Kings Crew wear them like a badge of pride. When we were in high school, they’d act so cool because they were another girl he marked with possessiveness before ignoring them.
“Well, that’s because I haven’t fucked her yet, Matthew,” he says with a silent ‘duh’ at the end. “Maybe I’m trying to be a gentleman here,” he concludes, his hand still on my tit and his grip bruising my arm.
The perfect gentleman.
“Okay, now run along before I fuck you up,” he tells the three. They’re gone in mere seconds.
I struggle out of his grasp, and he finally lets me go. I rapidly twist around to face him and point my index finger at him. “I didn’t need your help,” I rage at him. “Even less your hands on my body. And let me make one thing clear: You and I will never—and I meannever—have sex together. Do you underst—”
“What the fuck?” he grounds out as he wraps a hand around my jaw and tilts my head to the side.
“Cad—”
“Did they hit you?”
“What?”
“Your cheek,” he insists, his grip tightening. “It’s swollen. So, it’s a simple question.” He brings his face down and closer to mine. “Did. They. Hit. You?”
My thoughts become liquid and escape me as his warm breath caresses my face.
“I—y-yeah, but the swelling is from my fight. They didn’t hurt me.” He doesn’t react, so I add with determination, “I can take it.”
He straightens up and smiles. Why do his grins always feel so ominous? “Your fight, huh?”
“Yeah, let me go now.”
Surprisingly, he does. As he retreats, a shiver courses through my body. I zip up my jacket, but it’s no use. I don’t need more layers of clothes. I need Caden King’s skin against mine.
“You’re the toughest little cookie, aren’t you?” he mocks me.
“Fuck off, Caden,” I throw, starting to leave. He grabs me by the wrist and stops me.
“Next Friday. You’ve got a transfer to make for me. Be at the location at one a.m. Don’t forget to put the hood on when you see their car coming.”
I wrench my wrist away from him. “Sure, boss,” I smile sarcastically as I walk away.
“I could get used to you calling me boss,” he shouts at my retreating back, so I make sure to flip him off.
8
CADEN
Kinda Scary - Call Me Karizma
“That’s it for today, everyone. Make sure to hand in your essay before you leave.”
I fish the sheet out of my bag and hurry to our professor’s desk, dropping it there before I head out.
Writing essays about the history of mathematics isn’t exactly my passion, but it’s something I chose. I want all chances on my side when I eventually apply to be a math teacher.
It’ll happen one day. Once I’m out of this shithole of a town.
