Page 29 of We're All Liars
“Yep.” I close my eyes as I feel him brush his lips over the same spot where his number was before he moves on top of me.
“I dare you to tattoo it there.”
“Never gonna fucking happen.” Talk about a permanent brand. Pass. He owns enough of my body without having his stupid number on me. “Besides, you don’t even like football, remember?”
“True.” He’s watching me when I open my eyes. “So maybe just my name or initials will do.”
I’m more than aware of his fingers drawing CC on the side of my thigh.
Reaching up, I trace a MK on his forehead. He wrinkles it, then says, “I’ll do it. Let’s go.”
“Go to sleep.” Freaking morning people. I still want to close my eyes, especially since we didn’t sleep much seeing as how we were up fucking most of the night.
“I can’t. Let’s go get some pancakes.”
“I’m going to just buy some pancakes to keep here.”
He doesn’t say anything for a few seconds before quickly rattling off. “That reminds me. I found a place near the marina. But I was wondering what your plans are after graduation.”
“Why?”
“You know why,” he states. When I stare at him with annoyance, he adds, “What good is it to have a place to call mine if you’re not around?”
“Don’t let me impede your plans.” He goes to say something, but I cut him off. “Stop, Cade. Make your choice. I’ll fuck you there too, even if you have a raggedy couch that scratches my ass.” I don’t want to help him pick out a place to live. “Besides, you seem content sleeping at the marina and Neil’s. Or in my bed. And I’m sure Dustin wouldn’t mind you back in your old room. What’s the rush?”
“None of those are mine. And that’s what I need. I want you to come and look at it with me. Because I want you to be comfortable there. I need somewhere to call mine. Then as soon as football is over, I can up my hours and actually halfway afford it. But I probably won’t have a couch for a while, so it’s really not going to be what you’re accustomed to.”
“Can we just drop this? Pick a place, and I’ll buy you a couch. How’s that?”
His finger traces along my jawline. “I don’t want you to buy me a couch. I just want you there with me.”
It doesn’t matter. Because after I carry out the sentence on my father, Cade won’t want me in his place at all, much less on his fucking couch. “No promises.”
He lets out an exasperated huff then pushes away from me and gets off the bed. He tugs his T-shirt on and keeps his back to me.
Shit. “What the fuck is your problem now?”
“I don’t have a problem.”
“All right. Guess pancakes are out.”
“Nope. Let’s go.” He continues getting dressed, then stares at where I’m sitting on the bed. “We still need to eat even if you want to deny the future will actually happen.”
“Oh my God, Cade. Me not wanting to pick out curtains with you is not denying the future.”It’s just accepting the inevitable.“I’m not hungry. Go feed yourself.” He lets out a little laugh that sends my irritation even higher. “What?” No response. He just shakes his head. His smile growing. “Let’s see if you’re still laughing after the game, then we’ll talk.”
There’s a flash of alarm across his features for a few seconds before he resumes his sarcastic demeanor. “All right.”
An uncomfortable hush falls over the room as I pull on a sweater and some yoga pants. I’m looking for my shoes when my phone rings. It’s a local number I don’t recognize but still answer.
After I say hello, I hear a hushed voice. “Morgan, I need to speak with you.” The voice is so low I can barely understand them.
“Who is this?”
“Thatcher.”
“Um. Okay. I thought you were in jail.”
“I am. And if you knew what it took for me to make this call, you’d understand how important it is that I speak with you.”