“Yeah, Kate,” he says. “I'm totally jealous. That must be why I didn’t screw you last night.”
“Why are you being such a jerk-off now?” I ask. “Last night, you were nice. That’s the thing about you -- one minute you act like you give a shit, and the next minute you don’t.”
“Of course I give a shit, Katherine,” he says. “You’re a nice piece of ass.”
It’s like he’s purposely trying to be a dick. “That’s all it is, then?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest. “I’m just a nice piece of ass, then. Nothing more.”
“Oh, right, did you think I was going to be your Prince Charming or something?” he laughs. “We’re having a little fun, that’s all.”
“Get out,” I say. I bite down on my lower lip, because I think I might cry. It’s not like I’m in love with Caulter or anything remotely that stupid. But does he have to be such a jerk all the time? His mood swings, between nice guy and asshole, are exhausting. “Get the fuck out of my room.”
“Whatever you say, Princess.” He turns and leaves through the balcony, the way he came in, and I hear his glass door on the other side slam shut.
I sink into my chair, unable to hold back the tears that spill down my cheeks. I’m more angry than anything else.
It’s more than a few minutes later that I see my sketchpad lying on the desk, the one I usually keep carefully tucked under the mattress. Except for last night. Last night, I’d shoved it under the pillow when Jo had shown up in my room early. How could I have forgotten?
I’m so mortified I just want to crawl into a hole and hide. The thought of Caulter seeing the sketches of him...of his cock, holy shit, how many are there of his cock? It makes me want to vomit. He probably thinks I’m obsessed with him, some pathetic virgin who got laid and can't let go.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Caulter
“Oh, darling, you look so elegant.” Ella says, her hand covering her mouth. “It’s a wonderful tuxedo. What do you think?”
“I think that it’s better than the leather pants I was forced to wear for the wedding with Nick, your tween lover,” I say, my voice bitter. Her wedding to the former boy band member was ridiculous.
It’s not even Ella that I’m irritated with. The thing with Kate has me so on edge. I’m completely avoiding being in the same room with Kate, except at dinner, when I sit in sullen silence. Ella thinks it’s because of the engagement party.
“You could see fit to muster up some kind of happiness for me,” she says.
“I’m thrilled that you’ve found someone to hitch your wagon to,” I say. “Your dreams of finally being legitimate might come true.”
I’m shocked when she slaps me across the face. Ella has done a lot of things, but she’s never actually slapped me. The stylist doing the fitting quickly exits the room, making an excuse about taking a call. “At some point, you have to grow up, Caulter, and stop acting like a spoiled little shit.”
“Well, you raised me, mother,” I say, rubbing my face. “I’m your son, and the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, does it?”
“I didn’t raise you to act like a complete ass.”
“No,” I say. “You didn’t raise me at all. You send me off to rehab and military school and then Brighton, so you could live out your teenage years all over again, partying with rock stars. Now you’ve met someone who’s powerful and influential, whose arm you can hang on and pretend to be concerned about issues that matter. So you need me back in your life to play the good son role.”
“That’s not true, Caulter,” she says. “I didn’t know what I was doing with you -- I was a kid myself.”
I shrug. “You made your choices,” I say. “Just like I’m making mine, holding out for the trust fund. I’ll play along, but after summer is over, I’m done.”
***
“Bourbon.” The bartender looks at me, shaking his head. “You’re the Senator’s kid, aren’t you?”
“I’m Ella Sterling’s kid.” This goddamned tuxedo is practically cutting off my air supply, choking my neck. It’s stifling, despite the fact that the evening air is cool. “Is there a problem?”
“Yeah,” he says. “You’re in high school. I can’t serve you.”
“I’m not in high school,” I say. “But fine. Whatever.” Turning around, I lean against the bar, looking out over the crowd gathered in the backyard. The party planners have been at this for two days, and Ella has gone all out for the engagement party. The yard has been transformed into something that looks like white lights and flowers have been vomited everywhere.
But minimalism isn’t Ella’s style, despite her prior weddings. The marriage to the rock star involved a tiger, so at least that one was more entertaining.
This one is just...blah. That is, until I see her. We’ve been in a state of deep freeze since the argument in her room.