TOO LATE : CHAPTER 21 – 30
Chapter 24
SLOAN POV CONTINUE
I bite my cheek to hide my smile. He drops his hand and presses it against the small of my back. “We’ll be late if we don’t hurry.”
I laugh a little at the thought of being tardy. What weight does being late for class hold against all the other sht that’s going on in our lives? Very, very little. But he’s right.
I follow him out the door and back down the hallway toward the classroom. Before we walk inside he leans down and whispers, “For what it’s worth, you look really beautiful today. I kind of can’t catch my breath.”
He keeps walking, despite the fact that his words have frozen my feet to the floor.
That’s all those were. Words. A few simple words strung together, but they held just enough power to physically stop me in my tracks.
My hand goes up to my mouth as I quietly inhale. I force away the smile that wants to break out and I somehow force my feet to walk into the classroom.
I glance up and see Carter pulling two chairs out on the top row, so I make my way up to him.
My knees feel like they’re about to fail me. This is how it should be. This is how guys should make girls feel.
Why the h’ll did I ever give Asa the time of day?
When I reach my seat, he’s still standing, waiting for me to sit down first. I give him a quick smile as a thank you and take my seat.
I take my books out of my bag and he does the same. The professor walks in just as we’re settled. He turns and begins writing on the board.
Screamed a little too much at the football game last night. Lost my voice. Go through chapters 8-10 and we’ll catch up on lecture next week.
Half of the class laughs at the note. The other half groans. Carter opens his book to the right page. I lean forward and open mine and begin reading.
I don’t get far before Carter grabs a pen and begins writing a note. I’m giddy with anticipation, hoping it’s for me and he’s not actually taking notes for class.
I don’t even feel guilty. I should feel guilty about this. Especially since Asa sort of proposed to me this morning, and out of fear for my own life, I was forced to say yes.
This is so fked up. I’m going to h’ll.
Actually…I might already be in hell. Most of the time this life feels more like a punishment for something horrible I must have done in a previous life.
Until Carter came along, at least. I don’t remember much that has ever made me excited about life before he recently entered it.
Carter slides the note to me. It’s folded in half, so I lift the paper and read what he wrote.
I expect something random, like the game we’ve played in class before. Instead, it’s just a simple request.
Put your hand under the table.
I read it twice before looking at my hands. The note is a little random, but not like the game I showed him.
It’s only random because I’m confused by it. I slip the note under my book and then lower my hand under the table and wait for him to hand me whatever it is he has.
To my surprise-he doesn’t give me anything. His warm palm slides against mine and he threads our fingers together, resting our hands on my thigh.
And then he returns his focus to his textbook, resuming his reading like he didn’t just attempt to set me on fire.
That’s exactly what it feels like-my hand wrapped in his-him touching my leg.
I feel like someone needs to douse me with water. My heart begins to race and I feel like my whole body is tingling.
He’s holding my hand.
I didn’t know holding hands could feel better than a kss. Better than sx. Sx with Asa, at least.
I close my eyes and focus on the weight of his hand against mine. The width of his fingers between mine. The way his thumb occasionally runs back and forth.
After probably fifteen minutes of pretending to read the textbook in front of me, he pulls his hand from mine. He doesn’t release me, though. He just begins to make circles with his fingertips against my palm.
He traces every part of my hand, my palm, my fingers, between my fingers. With every minute that passes, my mind begins to wonder what those fingers would feel like against my leg. My neck. My stomach.
My breathing grows heavier. I begin to take in shorter breaths with each minute closer we get to the end of class.
I don’t want class to end. I never want it to end.
When he’s explored every part of my hand twice-over, his fingers slide to my leg. He begins to stroke my knee, about three inches up the inside of my leg, and back down to my knee.
My eyes are closed and I’m gripping the book in my hands. He does this for several more minutes, driving me completely insane, almost to the point that I might have to get up and go to the bathroom to splash cold water on my face.
But I don’t, because somehow the fifty minutes of class are up and everyone is packing up to leave.
TOO LATE : CHAPTER 21 – 30
*******
I find the strength to open my eyes and glance up at him. He’s staring at me, his gaze narrowed, eyes heated, wet lips that I can’t seem to look away from. He grabs my hand again and squeezes. “I know I shouldn’t…”
I shake my head. “You shouldn’t.”
I’m not even sure what he was about to say, but I have an idea of where his mind is at right now, because mine is right there with his.
“I know,” he says. “I just…I can’t be this close to you and not touch you.”
“And I can’t not let you.”
He inhales a deep breath, then releases it at the same time he releases my hand. He gathers his book and shoves it inside his backpack. He stands up and throws the backpack over his shoulder.
I look up at him and he’s staring down at me. I wait for him to say goodbye or walk away, but he doesn’t.
We stare at each other for a few more seconds before he drops his backpack and falls back down in his seat.
He wraps his hand in my hair and presses his forehead against the side of my head. I have no idea what he’s doing, but the desperation in the way he’s pressed against me makes me wince.
“Sloan,” he whispers, his mouth directly over my ear. “I want everything about you. So gddmn much. To the point that it’s blinding me.”
I gasp at his words.
“Please be careful,” he says. “Until I can help you get out of there. I don’t know when that’ll be, but please. Be very, very careful.”
I squeeze my eyes shut when he presses a kss to the side of my head. What I wouldn’t give for those lips to be pressing against my mouth right now.
How can I have this many feelings for someone I just met? For someone I haven’t even kssed yet? For someone who is mostly everything I want, but also involved with everything I despise?
“If I come to your house tonight, I’m not even going to look in your direction,” he says. “But know that you’re all I see. You’re all I see, Sloan.”
He releases me as quickly as he grabbed hold of me. He picks up his backpack again and stands up. I hear him walk away and I’m still sitting completely immobile, my eyes closed, my heart thrashing around inside my chest.
I want more of whatever it is he makes me feel. But I want it away from here. Away from this town. Away from Asa. I know Carter wants me to leave and I want to. I want to so bad, but I have to be more prepared for that to be able to happen. And if I leave-Carter has to leave, too.
Not only does he need to sever ties with Asa, but I need him to sever ties with this corrupt lifestyle Asa has created.
We both need to leave.
Before it’s too late…
TOO LATE : CHAPTER 21 – 30
Asa-POV
I’ve never been the kind of guy who deals with excess bllsht. Another piece of wisdom my father taught me.
“If it doesn’t benefit you, it shouldn’t matter to you.”
That’s probably the best piece of advice he ever gave me. I apply that wisdom to every aspect of my life. My friendships. My business partners. My education. My empire.
Yes, I said empire. I’m not quite there yet, but props to positive thinking and all that bvllsht, right?
When I first started dealing, I was small-time. Dealt what I could, when I could, to whomever I could. Mostly ecstasy to college kids, weed to college dropouts. Once I realized that wasn’t where the money or the power was, I started studying.
There was a full year right around the time I started college that I studied every minute of every day. And I’m not talking the bllsht textbook studying that lands you a full-time desk job making enough salary a year to buy one house, one car and one wife.
I’m talking real studying. Meeting people. Becoming the person people want to meet. Sampling the good sht, the heroin, the coke, just to get a feel of what kind of drug fits better with which demographic. Knowing how to not get addicted to the sht.
Getting to know your dealer so well that you become best friends with your dealer’s dealer. Building trust in whoever has more power than you, but lying low enough that they don’t see it coming when you’ve suddenly got more power than them.
I learned a lot and I learned it the hard way. The right way. From the bottom to the top.
I don’t deal the petty sht now, X, weed, pills. I especially done with weed. It’s an excess. You want weed? Move to Colorado and buy yourself a gift card to the sweet shop. Don’t waste my time.
But if you want the good stuff…the sht that makes you feel like you’re kssing the face of the gddmn Creator himself? That’s when you come to me. I won’t sell you the Ford, but I’ll sell you the rarest Bugatti you’ll ever come across.
TOO LATE : CHAPTER 21 – 30
**********
I’m still building. I’ll always be building. The second someone in my position feels like they have nothing else to learn is the same second they’ll be surpassed by the next guy. As far as I’m concerned, there are no more available spots above Asa Jackson in this city. I have a good team beneath me. Guys who know their places. Guys who know I’ll be fair to them if they’re fair to me.
I’m still getting to know my newest guy, Carter. Most people are transparent, but he’s like a muddy river. Most people, especially the ones who work for me, kss my a$s because they know what a good thing it is to be able to fit inside my back pocket.
Carter is different. He doesn’t seem to care one way or another. It’s his indifference that unnerves me. He reminds me of myself a little, and I’m not so sure that’s a good thing. There’s only room for one me.
My oldest guy, Jon, is really beginning to get sloppy. He was once my right-hand man but lately he’s become my Achilles heel.
Which brings me back to my initial point.
If it doesn’t benefit you, it shouldn’t matter to you.
I’m struggling to see how Jon benefits me anymore. He seems to just stir up bvllsht wherever he goes.
Last week he lost one of my biggest clients because he couldn’t keep his dick in his pants when it came to the guy’s wife. Even I know how to draw the line between my dk and my wallet.
Unlike Jon, Carter is a benefit. He’s a good translator, he’s quiet, he shows up where he needs to be and does what I need him to do. Which is the only reason I haven’t gotten rid of him yet, despite my suspicions about him. He’s not excess yet.
Jon, though. Jon is becoming dead weight.
But Jon also knows too much, which poses an even bigger problem.
For Jon. Not for me.
Aside from the business, I’ve cut all the other excess out of my life. Other than Sloan. She’s far from excess, though. If I had to compare her to a drug, Sloan would be heroin. Heroin is nice. Heroin makes you mellow. As long as you have it in good supply, heroin would be something you could happily inject every day for the rest of your life.
Maybe it’s weird to compare people to drugs, but when drugs are all you know, it’s normal.
Jon would be meth. He’s way too cocky, talks too much, painful at times. Real painful.
Dalton would be coke. Sociable, friendly, makes you want to do more coke. I like Coke.
Carter would be…
What would Carter be?
I don’t think I know Carter well enough to know which drug he resembles. But for about two minutes last night when I thought Sloan said his gddmn name, Carter was the overdose.
But she didn’t say his name. She’s never even spoken to the guy as far as I know. And if he’s smart, that means he’s never spoken to her beyond their introduction in the kitchen.
But soon, I won’t have to worry about the guys around here because she won’t live in this house anymore. She’ll be in our house.
Sht.
Fk!
I was supposed to buy the fucking ring today. I knew I was forgetting something.
I go to my closet to get dressed. I debate pulling out the Armani. You know-special day and shit. Instead I grab a dark blue button-up shirt I know Sloan likes and pair it with slacks.
It really doesn’t matter what I pick out of the closet, it’s all spectacular. I’ve always dressed for the level of respect I want to receive.
And no, my father didn’t teach me that one. He’d have probably made it a lot longer on the outside world had he not dressed like the fking bum that he was.
When I reach the bottom of the stairs and glance in the kitchen, I see Jon standing at the sink with his back to me, holding a bag of ice to the side of his head.
“What happened to you?”
He turns around and the whole fking right side of his face is black and blue. “Christ, man. Who the h’ll did you fk over?”
Jon drops the bag of ice in the sink. “No one important.”
I walk into the kitchen. His face is even worse up close. And if he thinks he’s not about to tell me who fked him up, he’s wrong. If he lost us another job, the left side of his face will look a whole lot worse than his right. I grab my keys off the counter and ask him again. “Who the fk did that to you, Jon?”
He pops his jaw and looks away from me. “Some id!ot caught me with his girl last night. Took me off guard. It looks worse than it was.”
Id!ot. I laugh. “No, I’m sure it looks just as bad as it was.” I walk to the pantry and check the alcohol stock. It’s empty, as usual. I slam the pantry door. “We’re celebrating tonight. Need you to stock up today. I have to run an errand.”
TOO LATE : CHAPTER 21 – 30
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