“I just want to finish up the year and graduate, okay? I don't think that's too much to ask. Why don’t we just try and navigate the next few months as friends? Y’know. Friends with benefits.”
“Friends with benefits?” The incredulity in my own tone rattles my bones. “You’re out of your goddamn mind.”
“The Mountain Lakes Hospital Psych department would agree with you. They think I’m bat shit.”
I almost laugh. I come so damn close.
In my palm, her skin feels like silk. She smells like jasmine and fresh, clean cotton. Her mouth...fuck. I rip both my hand and my eyes away from her face, growling angrily. “Why the fuck would I want to be friends with you?”
If she’s surprised by my retreat or the disgust coloring my words, she hides it well. She shifts, hugging her knees to her chest. She then turns her face and rests her head on the top of her knees, facing me. “Because you’re lonely?” she says.
“I’m not lonely.”
“You’re by yourself all of the time.”
“That’s because I hate everyone.”
She dismisses the comment with a tiny huff of breath. “Even when you’re with Wren and Dash, you’re alone. I can see it in your eyes. And you don’t hate them.”
“I do actually.”
“Bullshit.”
“I do. I just happen to also love them, so it all cancels out.” Why am I telling her this? Why am I justifying anything she’s saying with a response? She doesn’t deserve the truth, and I sure as fuck don’t owe it to her.
Chase laughs softly, stirring the piece of hair that’s fallen across her face. My right hand twitches, wanting to reach up and sweep it out of the way, but I catch myself before I can do anything of the sort. “Whatever you say,” she mutters. “I know how you feel, though. I always felt the same way. Surrounded by people. Engaged. Laughing. Connected.” She pauses. “But always set apart. Always different. Always on the outside.”
I’m beginning to wish I hadn’t ditched that joint off the roof now. The way she’s speaking doesn’t brook any argument. She’s speaking facts and she knows she is, and the whole thing is too raw and too uncomfortable for my liking. Time to make her feel uncomfortable, I think.
“Fine. You know what? We can be friends. We can be best buds just as soon as you tell me why you tried to kill yourself.”
Her whole body goes still.
Her breath catches in her throat.
Yeah, that’s what I thought, asshole.
With exaggerated care, she sits up, unfolds herself, and lets her legs hang over the edge of the roof. “I’m not telling you that,” she says quietly.
“Why not? I thought you were fearless. Don’t tell me you’re afraid of simply explaining why you did something so fuck—”
Facing forward, eyes piercing the dark, she grips the edge of the roof. “What are your conditions, Pax? To this whole thing. Tell me what they are, and I’ll give you mine.”
“You don’t get to have conditions.”
“Just shut up and tell me.”
I can’t remember the last time someone told me to shut up and didn’t earn themselves a black eye for their audacity. Her bravery is somewhat entertaining, though. I suppose I’ll let the infraction slide. “Firstly, we are not dating.”
A bark of laughter splits the night air in two. She claps her hand over her mouth, holding back another one. “I—I didn’t think we were,” she says, chuckling.
Asshole.
“Secondly, you don’t tell Carrie or Stillwater about anything we do together.”
“Why? Are you worried about what they think?”
“I don’t give a shit what they think. I just don’t like them. And it’s none of their fucking business.”
She pulls a face at that. “Fair enough. They don’t like you either. And I doubt they’ll want the gory details anyway.”
“Of course they will. They’re both nosy as fuck. Thirdly, like I said in my bedroom, we don’t talk about this. We don’t need to have any deep-and-meaningfuls about our emotions, or what we’re thinking about. We don’t even talk about the sex. We meet. We fuck. We peace out. You good?”
“Oh. I am so good.” She’s trying not to smile. I can’t tell if it’s because she’s wasted and just naturally fighting off the giggles, or because she thinks I’m being ridiculous. Whatever the case, this act of insubordination is not okay.
“Are you done?” she asks.
“No, we are not done. Last one. When I tell you to come to the house, you come to the house.”
She chews on the inside of her cheek. “What if I need to study?”
“You come to the house. Study in the afternoons after class, before dinner. Your evenings are mine when I want them.”
“Fine. What if…I’m on my period?” She says this like she’s gonna have me stumped. As if she’s finally got one over on me.
“You. Come. To. The. House.”
“Seriously?”
“I’ve already knelt in a lake of your blood, Chase. I’ve already had it on my tongue. I don’t fucking care if it comes out of your wrists or your pussy. Ain’t gonna faze me one bit.”
She looks both horrified and turned on; a warm sensation floods my chest at the sight of her expression. Oh, she has no idea how fucking dirty I’m gonna get with her. The depraved, filthy things I have planned for her are going to ruin her for all other men. Her fucking period isn’t gonna stop me in my tracks. “So? Can you deal with those conditions?” I demand.
Right away, she answers. “Yes. I’ll adhere to them. But I have two of my own. And they’re non-negotiable.”
“I already told you. You don’t get conditions.”
“Firstly, you stop being so openly hateful to my friends.”
“Absolutely not.”
“I’m not saying you have to be nice to them. I’m just saying…stop being such a raging dick to them. And definitely don’t threaten them if they do or say something you don’t like.”
“I make no promises.”
“Secondly,” she says, carrying on regardless. The small smile that was tugging at the corners of her mouth fades away. “Secondly, you can never ask me why I tried to kill myself again. Or bring it up. Or mention it. In public, or in private. Not ever.”
Wow. So that’s why she suddenly wanted to hear my conditions. Because she wanted to slip this one in and take that topic of conversation off the table for good. Well…I originally didn’t give a shit why she tried to kill herself. As time has passed I’ve found myself wondering, though. She just doesn’t seem like the type to try and off herself. She’s too…stubborn. Still, who the hell am I to demand that kind of personal information from her. I don’t want to know what kind of baggage she’s carrying around with her. I want to fuck her repeatedly until I don’t want to fuck her anymore. End of story.
“Fine,” I tell her.
“On both conditions. You have to agree to both.”
“All right. I said fine, didn’t I?”
“Good. Then we have an accord.” She holds out her hand for me to shake.