“What if there was a way to eliminate that concern from the equation?”
I laugh. “Like, you mean hitting the lottery?”
He remains strangely serious. “Don’t worry about the specifics. If money wasn’t an issue, and that worry was removed, would you still text her every day?”
My smile fades. “Carter, I’m not going to ask you or Susa to support me. I feel bad enough you two won’t let me chip in for groceries more often.” I’ve resorted to leaving twenties stashed in Carter’s belongings, or somewhere in Susa’s house, as I can afford it. Then when I’m asked if it’s my money, I just shrug and neither confirm nor deny.
Who says I won’t make a great attorney?
“That wasn’t my point,boy. Answer my question without over-thinking it.”
Part of me rebels at engaging in useless what-if rhetoric. Because I am beholden to my mother, to keeping her favor until I graduate from law school and start working, so that I’m not utterly fucked.
“Yes, Sir, if it wasn’t for the money issue, I wouldn’t worry about texting her every day.” I add a caveat. “I mean, and if I can bum a place to stay during breaks if I need to, off you or Susa, when I can’t stay in a dorm.”
He leans forward and sets his mug on the coffee table. “Unless you decide to end this arrangement between us, you are always guaranteed a place to stay.” He meets my gaze. “Even then, if you end this, as long as we’re still friends you don’t ever have to worry about being homeless, I promise.”
I blink back the sudden prickle of tears in my eyes over that statement. I know he means it. Carter never engages in idle bravado. “Thank you, Sir.”
“You don’t have to thank me for being your friend, boy. I hope we get to be much more than that, and for the rest of our lives.” He doesn’t clarify that remark and continues. “You need to understand that part of what I’m going to do is break you down in the ways you need to be broken.”
I try not to react, but a frisson of fear sweeps through me.
He tilts his head as he studies me. “What’s wrong?”
It’s spooky how he can read me. “That doesn’t sound…good, Sir.”
“It’s designed to instill your trust in me.”
“My mother has broken me all my life, and I damn sure don’t trust her.”
“Maybe ‘break’ isn’t the right word to use,” Carter says. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. This won’t be an easy process, though. I’m not approaching this as a game. I can promise that, on the other side, you’ll understand better what I’m trying to say, and you’ll thank me for it.”
“Because you’ve done this?”
He sighs. “That, and because I know whatnotto do.”
Chapter Twenty-One
So here I stand this Saturday morning, my hangover mostly not bothering me now that I’ve had ibuprofen, water, and breakfast, with my best friend and roommate looking up at me from where he’s sitting on our other friend’s couch.
Then Carter quietly says one word that makes a record screech painfully echo through my fuzzy, aching brain.
“Strip.”
I blink, thinking I misheard him, or that he’s going to smile and laugh and say something like,You should have seen the look on your face!
But none of that happens. He sits, motionless, waiting.
“Sir?”
I can’t read his expression. “Was I not clear?”
“I…” I swallow hard. “What does that have to do with what we’re doing?”
“Because most of what we’re doing, when we have appropriate privacy, will be done with you naked. So you’d better get used to it now. Don’t make me repeat myself,boy.”
I’m…torn. I mean, sure, in high school I dressed out for PE and we had showers, or in our room at the dorm, but this is…
