Once we are finally home, Nicholas can’t open the door fast enough. He’s practically throwing it open and stumbling out before my dad can even put the car into park. My dad laughs as he steps out of the car and shuts the door behind him.
“Sorry about the snug fit there. You could do worse than be in a backseat with two beautiful women, though, am I right?” he teases in a lighthearted way.
A smile touches Nicholas’s face that doesn’t quite reach his eyes as he nods.
“Men have certainly undergone far more perilous conditions for sure.”
I roll my eyes, having absolutely enough of all of this bullshit as I slide out of the car and make my way into the house. I don’t say goodnight to anyone. I don’t sit around and chit chat like I hear them do. Instead, I head straight for my room and take a much needed breath.
Pulling out my phone, I click on Naomi’s contact and type out a text that I’ve been aching to send to her. It’s not like I don’t tell Arianna things too. Nay is just…so easy to vent to. She’s the nonjudgmental friend, the one who sides with you no matter what. Though I probably deserve all the judgment in the world and Arianna would never come at me from a place of love and respect…I can’t fess this up to her. Not yet.
Me: I fucked up…
After I literally vented my life away to Nay, I felt relief that I didn’t expect. I mean, I’m still a shit person for sleeping with my sister’s boyfriend, but to Naomi’s point, I had no idea who he was. I walked into that club single and looking for a consensual partner for the night. He walked into it knowingly in a relationship, seeking to find a partner to cheat with. It’s unfortunate that person had to be me, but I’m sure he would have settled for anyone with a heartbeat.
He's the scum. Not me.
Okay, I know how that sounds but honestly, I’m not sorry. On top of being a cheating bastard, he’s also just a grade A asshole.
I heard the chatter from downstairs quiet an hour or so ago so I know that means that everyone has turned in for the night. Which is perfect because I have a hard time going to bed without a late night snack.
Tip toeing out of my room, I make my way down the stairs and head into the kitchen. I don’t know when the need for late night snacking started. Honestly, from birth if I had to guess. My dad is also a late night snacker and most of my life, we’d meet down here every night. Whether it was a bowl of ice cream, a thing of popcorn or even spoons full of peanut butter, we’d sit at the kitchen island, snack and talk about our day.
When I turn the corner, I find someone already rifling through the fridge, but it’s not my usual snacking partner in crime. When the identity of this late night snacker is apparent, my appetite sours and I contemplate heading back to bed. Unfortunately for me, he has already spotted me, and Cassi Fischer is anything but a coward, especially to a man? Ew, no. My pride simply won’t allow retreat at this point.
He looks at me and curses under his breath.
“Jesus, do you have to be everywhere I fucking turn? Is there anywhere I can go that you’re not right fucking there?” Nicholas snaps at me.
I’m stunned for a moment, physically taken aback.
“Are you seriously yelling at me for being in my own house?” I ask in disbelief.
His eyes bore into my own for several seconds, before he closes them roughly and looks away. When it seems like he composes himself, he opens them once more and looks to me.
“Sorry. You’re right. I just…you…” he breaks off, shaking his head before his gaze meets mine once more. “Sorry.”
I nod at his apology before slipping past him for the cabinet. I rifle around until I find some of the ingredients I’m in search for. Sliding over to the fridge, I grab the remaining items and begin assembling my late night treat.
“What are you making?” he asks.
I look up at him while spreading the jam against the bread.
“A sandwich.”
His brows furrow. “A jelly and…cream cheese sandwich?” he asks, as if the concept was so completely foreign.
“Jam, not jelly. There is a difference,” I correct as I spread the cream cheese on the other piece of bread before putting them together.
“You’re not seriously going to eat it like that,” Nicholas deadpans.
“Of course not,” I say with a shake of my head.
Reaching down beneath the stove, I pull out a small pan and set it on top, turning the burner on before dabbing a little butter into the pan. Once the butter has melted I plop my sandwich down and savor the sound of my bread being grilled to perfection.
I do my best to ignore Nicholas’ outraged expression but it’s hard to do so when he’s gaping like a fish out of water. Pretending he’s not there, I slip a spatula beneath the sandwich and flip it over, allowing it to become crispy golden deliciousness before I remove it from the heat.
Busying myself with setting up my plate and napkin, I pull mysandwich out of the pan and onto my plate before cutting it in half with a butter knife. When I turn, I find Nicholas practically frozen in place, still staring at me as one stares on at a train accident.
