I cover what she used to make working for my parents, but I only let her come once a week instead of the five days she’d work for them. She’s insisted on helping more, but we don’t need it and I won’t cut her pay when my parents are assholes who fired her in the first place. She doesn’t deserve to be shit on, and I won’t have her show up next week, expecting her usual workload, and find the shit storm Aaron created instead.
Fucking hell. At least everything else in my life isn’t a disaster.
Hookups with Kasey are still a regular thing, and the only reason I’m sane. Things shifted between us after I took another of her firsts. I’ve tried not to read into it, but on today of all days, when I’m supposed to leave town, it’s all I’ve thought about besides Aaron and his bullshit.
Before when Kasey and I would fuck, there was this cloud of despair hanging around her. She’d lost some of her spark and you could see the demons she fought against every time you looked into her gaze.
When I’d buried myself inside her, she wasn’t fully present. I doubt she could afford to be. Sex was her outlet and when she came to me for pleasure, for an escape, she used it to push back her demons, locking pieces of herself away, so she had the strength of will to fight for another day.
That’s not what I see when I’m inside her anymore.
That cloud of despair has lifted. Or maybe it’s just harder for me to tell now with Aaron around. She spent more time at the house when he was gone, so I saw the shifts in her mood and knew when she was bending too far, getting ready to break.
I only see brief flashes of her now when she swings by to visit her brother, and it’s always in passing. She doesn’t linger long after I get home, making it hard to get a read on her moods.
And later, when I sneak into her room at night, there’s only one thing on either of our minds and we spend most of the night doing it. We don’t talk. Not unless I’m telling her how good she is at taking my cock, or she’s begging me for more. But I think I’ve figured out what happened. Why things don’t feel the same between us anymore.
Kasey doesn’t need me to fuck her grief out of her anymore. She doesn’t need help keeping her demons at bay.
What I still haven’t figured out though is that if she doesn’t need me for her grief anymore, why does she message me every night asking when I’ll come over? And once I’m there, why does she sometimes say things like,I wish you could stay?
SIXTEEN
KASEY
I’m walking back to the Kappa Mu house after class when someone shouts, “Hey! Wait up.”
I look around me, but don’t see anyone to go with the voice. Shrugging, I keep walking. Cutting through one of the parking lots, I’m almost to Greek Row when they call again.
“Kasey! Hold up!”
Okay, that was definitely for me. Stopping, I lift my hand to my face, blocking the sun from my eyes, and spin in a slow circle, looking for the speaker.
Firm hands grip my hips, turning me around. “Hey!” Striking out, I shove whoever it is touching me hard in the chest. He grunts and takes a second longer before letting go.
Taking two steps away, I blink back against the sun as it tries to blind me and take in the body that belongs to the voice. “Thanks a lot, Satan. You almost gave me a heart attack.”
Dominique's mouth twitches, fighting back a grin. “We’re back to Satan, are we?”
I shrug. “Once a devil, always a devil.”
This time, the smile breaks free, accompanied by a bark of laughter. “I couldn’t have scared you,” he says. “I called your name twice. You avoiding me, now? Is there something I should know about?” His voice is teasing and he closes the small distance I put between us.
“No. I didn’t know it was you, and I’m late to help Quinn decorate for a party.” Turning, I head for my place and Dominique easily falls into step beside me, his longer strikes moving at a much more relaxed pace.
“What party?”
The one I intentionally did not mention because of the way you acted at the last one.He humiliated me in front of everyone, ordering me out of the swimming pool because my swimsuit wasindecent.
For reference, it was. But who the hell cares? It’s a swimsuit. It covered all of my important bits and I looked great.
I’ll rock the shit out of that suit every chance I get, just to see the vein on Dominique’s forehead pulse the way it did that day, seconds away from exploding. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so angry in my life than he was at every single guy who was there, all because they looked at me.
Dominique is allergic to all things Greek. I’m not a fan of the fraternity and sorority lifestyle, but I’ve gotten used to it since classes began. It’s not great. But it’s better than I expected it to be, so I won’t complain. And while I’ve learned to tolerate Greek Row, Dom hates it. It’s not because of the parties, I don’t think. But the entitlement and inflated egos. Not that he’s one to talk.
“Party isn’t the right word,” I hedge.
Tucking his hands in his pockets, he gives me a look that says,I don’t believe you.“What word would you use, then?”
