James: A College Girl Romance (17 page)

I stopped abruptly.

“If you even have a less than pure thought about her, we’re done.”

When he laughed, I grabbed him at the shoulder. He stared at me for several seconds and then smiled.

“I’m not buying it, McDevitt. Since when have you cared one whit about a piece of—”

“Since now.”

He nodded slowly with an inscrutable expression, and I slapped him on the back before walking to the front door where Cass was waiting. I was going to have to watch my back with Blake, too. Vicki’s roommate was lurking, so clearly her date didn’t give a shit that she was openly trying to score with other guys right in front of him. Or maybe he knew she didn’t have a chance in hell. We walked outside, and when we reached the Tesla, I opened the door for Cass. When I got behind the wheel, I turned to her and smiled.

“Your place or mine?”

She frowned and shook her head.

“This morning you were sure your father—or should I call him the lord of darkness—was out to get me. Now it’s all good?”

My features hardened as I reached for my phone.

“No, it’s not all good.”

I opened the picture of her from the club, which had been sent to me earlier by one of my father’s minions. Cass in pigtails and a naughty-schoolgirl outfit standing in front of my table. She became very still as she stared at the photograph of herself.

“I received this after I left you at your apartment.”

“Wh-why? Who would—”

“My father. Leverage in case he needs it, or if he’s simply feeling vindictive.”

She shook her head.

“No,” she said with barely any volume.

“So, whether I leave you alone or not, my father has already taken an interest in you. I imagine you don’t want that picture texted to your mother or future employers?”

I started driving toward the house, and when I looked over at her, Cass was staring blankly out the windshield.

“This can’t be happening,” she muttered. “I was only supposed to be at
Fantasy Land
for long enough to make the money for school, and then this was all supposed to be over. I was going to finish undergrad without debt and never think about that place again. Now some psychopath has pictures of me … and who knows what else?” She turned toward me, her eyes wide with fear. “Is he going to blackmail me? I mean, I don’t have anything except the money
you
gave me.”

“He doesn’t want your money.”

However, my father certainly wasn’t above blackmail, but I didn’t tell her that.

“Then what does he want with me? It doesn’t make sense. I’m nobody to him. … I’m nobody to you.”

Her words hung in the air as I pulled into the driveway.

“You’re right.”

I hated myself for confirming what she assumed to be the truth. But I was angry. At her. I had no right to be. I had no right to want her to think anything but the obvious, which was that she meant nothing to me.

I stepped out of the car. When I walked around to her side and opened her door, she stared up at me with a mixture of anger—and disappointment? I held out my hand, and she hesitated before reaching out. I steadied her as she teetered in her heeled boots.

“What do you care, then?” she asked softly without looking at me “Why do you care what your father does to me?”

“Like my father, I
care
about winning. If he thinks he can use something against me, I’ll destroy him.”

She made a disgusted noise in the back of her throat.

“And I thought
my
family was messed up.”

I gestured toward the house and started walking. After I stepped inside, it took several seconds for her to join me.

“So? What now?” she asked.

“Now? A drink.”

“You drink a lot,” she observed.

“Everything is relative.”

“A comeback for everything,” she added reproachfully as she walked over to the sofa. “You wanna tell me how you got the way you are?”

“How long are you prepared to listen?” I laughed as I walked over to the liquor cabinet.

I poured a finger of whisky and then joined her on the sofa, far enough away that I couldn’t reach out and touch her. She stared at me with a curious expression.

“What? Not trying to get me into bed?” she asked dryly.

“Not tonight.”

My dick and I were definitely in disagreement about my latest tactic, but I knew how to play the long game. She eyed me doubtfully, but a moment later her posture relaxed just a fraction.

“Tonight I’d like to hear more about you,” I added.

“Really?”

“Don’t seem so surprised.”

“Remember the part about me meaning nothing to you?” she frowned. “Why do you need to know anything about me?”

I sipped the whisky and angled myself toward her. What could I tell this girl? That I had spent the majority of my adult life avoiding both responsibility and human connection? That even those closest to me barely knew me? That I craved a closeness to her even when I couldn’t understand why?

“Humor me,” I coaxed her. “Why did you come here of all places for school? Apart from getting away from your stepfather.””

“Why do you say it like that? This is a really good public school!” she said defensively.

“It is. It’s also a half hour from the nearest settlement that could be considered a city. Why not San Francisco? L.A.? San Diego? The East Coast?”

She shrugged.

“I don’t know. I wanted to get out of the house, but I had to stay in state for cheaper tuition. Plus, my mom didn’t want me going anywhere in the
big city
. I wanted to go to a good school, but I wasn’t going to get a scholarship to a private school. So—
voila
. I went here until I couldn’t afford to pay my rent and go to school.”

“And why law school?”

She exhaled.

“Honestly? It was the first thing I ever mentioned that my mom actually got excited about when I told her. Now I’m almost twenty-four, and going to grad school just to make her happy seems stupid.”

“Then do something you want to do.”

She laughed.

“Right!” she laughed. “Because doing something
I
want is going to pay the bills. God, you sound like that girl from my women’s lit class junior year who was majoring in Russian literature. Her dad was getting her a job as a project manager for his company straight out of school. If
I
don’t go to grad school to study something
practical
that ends up paying well … Well, I’ll end up working somewhere like
Fantasy Land
again because I can’t pay my bills. No thanks.” She stopped and looked around. “Do you have another bottle of that Bennett Cellars stuff?”

I stood and walked over to retrieve one of the private-label bottles, which I uncorked. After pouring a generous glass, I walked back to Cass and handed it to her. She smelled the wine and smiled.

“
This
is another reason I don’t want to be flat broke forever. Expensive wine is so much better than the cheap shit.”

“I’ll drink to that.”

I raised my glass, and she did the same.

“What about your friend … Vicki?” I asked, very aware that for once in my life I wanted to hear a woman talk about herself.

“We lived on the same floor freshman year. She had a normal boyfriend back then. Then we shared an apartment with a couple of other girls sophomore year. Now she’s the only friend I have left from my freshman class who hasn’t already graduated and gotten a real job somewhere else.”

“Do you have any siblings?”

She shrugged.

“I guess I have three older sisters.”

“You guess?”

“My dad was way older than Mom. His other kids were from another marriage. I’ve never actually met them. They weren’t that much younger than my mom, and it sounded like they really didn’t like her and they resented me. What about you?”

“Assorted stepsiblings, most likely several half siblings that I’ll never know about unless someone files a paternity suit against Papa McDevitt.”

Cass coughed.

“Oh my god! Can you stop calling him that? I think I might throw up.”

I grinned.

“I forget that most people aren’t quite so well acquainted with the Devil himself.”

She looked at me curiously.

“Do you—I mean, do you believe in all that? The Devil? God?”

I smiled, finished my whisky, and set the glass on the table.

“If I had believed in
God
and the
Devil
, I wouldn’t lead the life I do, would I? What do I believe? I believe in ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Live for now because it might be over soon. That, and don’t screw over the other guy too badly—because you might just come back as a cockroach. Papa—I mean
my father
—is absolutely coming back as a cockroach. Or, on the slim chance there is a Hell, my father has a one-way ticket. What about you? What do you believe?”

“I don’t know. I remember sitting in church once when I was a little kid. I was only there because one of my friend’s went to church every Sunday with her parents. So, I was sitting there, looking around for God in the church, and I couldn’t find anything. Plus, I was seriously freaked by the crucifix. Both my parents went to church as kids, but I guess not by the time they had me. I guess I’m just hoping there’s
something
after this life, because the thing that scares me the most is nothing.”

She smiled crookedly and took another sip of wine as I contemplated the fact that this was the first time I had done this—just sat and talked with a woman without the end result involving a woman screaming, “
Yes!
Fuck me harder!
” at the top of her lungs. There was something to be said for novelty. On the other hand, I hadn’t ruled out the possibility that my protracted celibacy was a precursor to the zombie apocalypse.

“Afraid of nothing. That sounds like a good thing,” I said.

Cass cocked her head to the side.

“Funny how much your intent can change the meaning of something. I guess I should have said I’m afraid of nonexistence.”

“Why, though? If you don’t exist, then you won’t be there to fear it.”

She nodded.

“Logically, yeah. I get it. But I like being here. I like experiencing things. It’s hard to imagine not having
this
. Life.”

Her eyes were shining as bright green as I had ever seen. A single tear tracked down her cheek before she swiped at it. Then she shook her head.

“Sorry. I sound silly. I’m just—”

I was across the couch before she could finish. I took her face in my hands, tilted her head, and brushed her lips with mine. Gently. Slowly. When she gasped, I pulled back and released her. I stood and held out my hand. She stared up at me, her cheeks flushed, her eyes still shining.

“Tell me about your mother,” she said softly.

Her request took me by surprise. I hadn’t spoken of my mother in nearly twenty years. I took a breath and tried to picture her in my mind.

“She was very kind, always doing things for other people. I think she spent more time worrying about other people than she did about her own happiness. She had a great sense of humor, an impeccable sense of comedic timing. Not as much toward the end …”

Cass shook her head.

“How did she end up married to your father?”

“One of the enduring mysteries of the universe,” I said as I stood and held out my hand. “Time for bed.”

Midway to the bedroom, she stopped in front of an excellent facsimile of John Martin’s
Pandemonium
, a depiction a demonic palace in Hell, as inspired by Milton’s
Paradise Lost
.

“The fires of Hell? A pretty gruesome thing to hang on your wall, don’t you think? I thought you didn’t believe in all that.”

“I’m not that literal—but I do believe in evil.”

When we reached the bedroom, I went to the dresser and pulled out a T-shirt. I handed it to her, and she looked down at it and then back up at me, a brief moment of confusion washing over her features before she smirked.

“Ivy League. Of course.”

As she stared up at me, I debated. Then, with what last bit of restraint I had, I left her and walked into the bathroom. By the time I was finished splashing cold water on my face and brushing my teeth, I decided I was capable of managing my apparently unquenchable desire for this girl.

The question that remained was: would my craving for her dissipate once I had fucked us both into a stupor?

When I stepped out of bathroom, she gave me a small, guileless smile and then walked past me into the bathroom, still clutching the T-shirt I had given her. As she closed the door behind her, I walked over to the bed and reclined against the headboard as I ran through boring-as-fuck financials in my head.