"Not bad, exactly. I don't know. I just thought maybe there might be other things you'd like to do. You know something better than going to clubs, I mean."
"Better? I don't really know what that means."
"I don't know. It's just...you're smart, Cara. It seems like you'd have better shit to do. Clubbing is something people do in their twenties." I hate the fucking clubs. It always feels like Zach and I are a decade older than everyone in there. I don't like how packed they are, I don't like the way the women come onto me, and I really don't like the music.
Her hand drops from my chest, and I take a full breath for the first time since she touched me. Her eyes drop to the floor, and she takes it a few steps away, planting her back against the opposite wall.
"I see,” she says softly. She exhales and raises her head, a wide smile on her lips. "Well, I guess I'm young at heart. Good night Dec."
She turns, walking away before I can get a word out. I wouldn't be able to speak anyway. All thought has left my brain as I watch that majestic ass sway. I swear every song ever written about amazing asses was written about Cara's.
"You're so stupid." Colt's voice scares the shit out of me, and my butt clenches. Again.
I spin on him, aiming a punch at his stomach. Fucker doesn't even try to block, laughing as I connect. I do get a little grunt out of him, which shocks the hell out of me. He's a fucking wall of muscle, but all the lifting I've been doing lately is clearly having an effect.
"What the fuck, man? Why are you skulking around? And how the fuck do you do that. You're the size of a fucking tank. You should make noise when you walk."
"It's a gift, brother, what can I say?" He shrugs, smirking. "Why the fuck did you just call Cara old?"
"What? I didn't say that." Did I? I mean, I was barely conscious during most of that interaction, but I'm pretty sure I didn't call her old.
"You said going to clubs was for young people. How else was she supposed to take that?"
I turn and bang my head on the wall a few times, finally stopping to rest with my forehead pressed to the rich wood paneling. "Fuck."
"Yeah," he says, laughter lacing his words.
"Why the fuck can't I just talk to her?" I spin, dropping to a crouch, ass against the wall. "I don't know how to talk to her. I don't know how to be what she needs. And I hate that she spends all her time out at those places. They're full of assholes hitting on her, I'm sure of it.”
When I glance at Colt, there's something on his face I can't pinpoint. "What?"
He rolls his lips, planting his hands on his hips. "Have you ever bothered to talk to her about it? Or have you just made a bunch of assumptions about her?"
"I've known her for years, Horsey. I'm not making any assumptions." He doesn't even flinch at the nickname. His woman's little girl, Mia, calls him that. We've all been doing it, but he doesn't seem to give a shit, which honestly takes most of the fun out of it.
"You don't think so?" He shakes his head. "You're wrong. And you just hurt that woman. Get your head out of your ass Dec. She's not going to give you many more chances."
He walks away before I can pin him down and ask him what the fuck he's talking about. His implication that I hurt her sits uncomfortably. Cara is fucking teflon. Nothing I could do or say would bother her. Of that, I'm sure. Sometimes, I wish she wasn't. I wish she was as affected by me as I am by her.
But as I climb into my car, I can't shake the feeling that I've fucked up somehow. So I do what I always do when I'm uncomfortable...crank the music and let my mind loose, sorting through every moment of our conversation and everything I should have said and done instead.
I roll my windows down, pull out of the back garage on our compound, and head down the lane past our building. Some days, I can't fucking believe that all of this is ours. The day I left the group home for good, I thought it was the best day of my life. Then we made our first million. Then two. The good days just kept rolling in. I had all the money I could ever want. I bought the shit I'd always dreamed of. I thought I was living the life.
I was satisfied with my gamer friends and the occasional girlfriend I met while gaming. Honestly, I didn't get it. What was the big deal? The women I dated were sweet and nerdy. I thought that was my type. But then Cara showed up, and I realized that I had no fucking clue who I was.
Cara is the complete opposite of every woman I've ever dated. She has more confidence in her pinkie than all of them put together, and I don't know how to handle her. I feel like a fucking loser every time I'm around her.
I thought bulking up and having Zach take me to clubs would help me build my confidence, but it hasn't done a fucking thing. I am who I am, and that man will never be good enough to keep Cara's attention. She loves fucking with me. Has from day one. But to actually date someone like me? Someone who likes computers and hanging out with his family? I'm too boring for her.
I hit the accelerator, trying to shake off my mood. My life is good. Great even. I just need to get my head out of my ass. As I pass the strip mall my barber's in, I pull a U-turn. Dealing with the fucking mop on my head is the perfect distraction.
Two hours later, when Colt knocks on my door and sees my close shaved head, his eyes pop out of his fucking head. I didn't plan on cutting it like this. My hair's always been long. But I'm sick of being me. Sick of feeling like I'm not enough. Sick of hiding behind it.
I should've looked into a personality transplant instead.
3
CARA
