“Does Kari know you’re here?”
Her face pinches as she asks, and I wonder what my so-called girlfriend has been saying to her behind my back.
“Sure,” I say to ease her mind. “Listen, I really enjoyed the other night with you.” I move closer, boxing her in so when she steps backwards it takes her farther into the cloakroom, trapping her in the corner.
I reach out to shift her fringe away from her face and she jerks back, hard, cracking her head on the wall behind her.
My hand freezes in mid-air when I see her eyes. They’re wide. Frightened. She stares with her arms raised to block merather than cupping her skull where she just hit it, even though the injury must hurt.
Something’s wrong.
She seemed afraid last time, too, but I thought it was because I dragged her out of hiding and shoved her against the wall, deliberately intimidating. Now, I’m barely touching her.
Doubt unfurls in my chest, and I grab hold of it, twist it, wring its neck, and stomp it into the ground.
I don’t second guess myself. I don’t overthink things. I reach out for what I want, and I take it.
But the girl I want stares at me like she can see straight through the act. Can see my state house upbringing. The poverty shining through the cracks in my bright new status.
Like the wealth of the past eighteen months has rolled away, leaving me exposed.
I shake my head and the spike of doubt goes with it. I follow through on my earlier motion, watching her more closely than before, seeing the tremor run through her body, stilling when I touch her.
“There’s another debt your father owes,” I say, reaching for my most persuasive tool first. Wanting to guarantee her answer. “I thought you might want to get free of that one, too.”
“I don’t…” She shakes her head, staring down at the floor while struggling for the words to finish her thought. “No. It was…” Her body shudders as she swallows, then she juts her chin out, determined to finish. “It was one night. That’s what you said.”
“Sure, but this is a different debt. You can’t think I’ll clear everything—”
“What d-debt?” Her face is pinched, pale except for slashes of colour at the top of her cheekbones. The contrast so deep it looks like she smeared streaks of crimson warpaint over the skin.
“It’s to a gang up north. They said—”
But her head whips back and forth. “No. You said one night, and I’ve done that. You can’t come back to me weeks later and change the rules. That’s not fair.”
“Not fair.” I chuckle low in my throat and reach out to brush her hair again, knowing she’ll flinch, waiting for it, enjoying it this time because I’m back in control. “But it’s fair that I should pay and pay and pay but get nothing more in return?”
For each time I use the word pay, the muscles in her neck tighten. The same trigger she had when I tried to buy her a purse.
No surprises there. A kid whose sole parent would rather borrow from a gang than go home and spend time with his daughter can’t be a great financial role model. No wonder she wants to be an accountant, take control of all the money.
It’s a trigger I can use if I angle it right.
My neck creaks from looking down at her. I grab her under the arms and lift her onto the short bench, making us level. The startled gasp triggers a memory of the sounds she made as I played with her.
She might want this to be over but the longer I’m close to her, the more I want her. The need eats away at my brain.
“I can’t…” she ducks her head forward, but it’s not the escape she hoped for. My eyes are right there, searching for hers. The height difference eroding more than just a crick in my neck. “No. The debt from up north was before the one my dad owes your family. When you said you’d wipe my father’s debt, it was already p-part of the package.”
“Oh, was it?” I laugh, genuinely amused at her logic. It’s sound. Persuasive, even.
Except this isn’t a negotiation. This is me telling her what she’ll do. The only reason I notice the boundary she sets is forthe pleasure I take stepping straight over it. “Pity you didn’t mention that on the night. If you had, I might take notice.”
I put one hand on the curve of her waist, pushing so it pins her against the wall. The other cups her shoulder before running down her back, grabbing her arse and squeezing.
“What’s the matter?” I ask as my fingertips send joyful sensations running along my nerves. “You enjoyed yourself.” With her bench advantage, I have to stand fully upright to whisper into her ear, “Don’t worry. This is just between us. No one else has to know.”
“No. It wasn’t part of the—”
