I find the strength to open my eyes and glance up at him. He’s staring at me, his gaze narrowed, eyes heated, wet lips that I can’t seem to look away from. He grabs my hand again and squeezes. “I know I shouldn’t…”
I shake my head. “You shouldn’t.”
I’m not even sure what he was about to say, but I have an idea of where his mind is at right now, because mine is right there with his.
“I know,” he says. “I just…I can’t be this close to you and not touch you.”
“And I can’t not let you.”
He inhales a deep breath, then releases it at the same time he releases my hand. He gathers his book and shoves it inside his backpack. He stands up and throws the backpack over his shoulder. I look up at him and he’s staring down at me. I wait for him to say goodbye or walk away, but he doesn’t.
We stare at each other for a few more seconds before he drops his backpack and falls back down in his seat. He wraps his hand in my hair and presses his forehead against the side of my head. I have no idea what he’s doing, but the desperation in the way he’s pressed against me makes me wince.
“Sloan,” he whispers, his mouth directly over my ear. “I want everything about you. So goddamn much. To the point that it’s blinding me.”
I gasp at his words.
“Please be careful,” he says. “Until I can help you get out of there. I don’t know when that’ll be, but please. Be very, very careful.”
I squeeze my eyes shut when he presses a kiss to the side of my head. What I wouldn’t give for those lips to be pressing against my mouth right now.
How can I have this many feelings for someone I just met? For someone I haven’t even kissed yet? For someone who is mostly everything I want, but also involved with everything I despise?
“If I come to your house tonight, I’m not even going to look in your direction,” he says. “But know that you’re all I see. You’re all I fucking see, Sloan.”
He releases me as quickly as he grabbed hold of me. He picks up his backpack again and stands up. I hear him walk away and I’m still sitting completely immobile, my eyes closed, my heart thrashing around inside my chest.
I want more of whatever it is he makes me feel. But I want it away from here. Away from this town. Away from Asa. I know Carter wants me to leave and I want to. I want to so bad, but I have to be more prepared for that to be able to happen. And if I leave-Carter has to leave, too. Not only does he need to sever ties with Asa, but I need him to sever ties with this corrupt lifestyle Asa has created.
We both need to leave.
Before it’s too late…
Asa-24
Asa
I’ve never been the kind of guy who deals with excess bullshit. Another piece of wisdom my father taught me.
“If it doesn’t benefit you, it shouldn’t fucking matter to you.”
That’s probably the best piece of advice he ever gave me. I apply that wisdom to every aspect of my life. My friendships. My business partners. My education. My empire.
Yes, I said empire. I’m not quite there yet, but props to positive thinking and all that bullshit, right?
When I first started dealing, I was small-time. Dealt what I could, when I could, to whomever I could. Mostly ecstasy to college kids, weed to college dropouts. Once I realized that wasn’t where the money or the power was, I started studying.
There was a full year right around the time I started college that I studied every minute of every day. And I’m not talking the bullshit textbook studying that lands you a full-time desk job making enough salary a year to buy one house, one car and one wife. I’m talking real studying. Meeting people. Becoming the person people want to meet. Sampling the good shit, the heroin, the coke, just to get a feel of what kind of drug fits better with which demographic. Knowing how to not get addicted to the shit. Getting to know your dealer so well that you become best friends with your dealer’s dealer. Building trust in whoever has more power than you, but lying low enough that they don’t see it coming when you’ve suddenly got more power than them.
I learned a lot and I learned it the hard way. The right way. From the bottom to the top.
I don’t deal the petty shit now, X, weed, pills. I especially don’t fuck with weed. It’s an excess. You want weed? Move to fucking Colorado and buy yourself a gift card to the sweet shop. Don’t waste my fucking time.
But if you want the good stuff…the shit that makes you feel like you’re kissing the face of the goddamn Creator himself? That’s when you come to me. I won’t sell you the Ford, but I’ll sell you the rarest fucking Bugatti you’ll ever come across.