“One of the guys I was having lunch with today … Brad.”
“Brad Cartwright?”
“I don’t know his last name,” I state.
“Tall. Blonde. Footy Captain. Cocky bastard.”
“Yeah, that’s him,” I chuckle.
“Can’t stand that kid. I went to school with his old man. He was exactly the same,” he says. “What did he say about my girl?”
“Look. I don’t want to cause any trouble for Indi.” Because I don’t, I just don’t want her going near Brad.
“I want to know what he said. If someone is saying shit about my little girl …”
“It’s not like that. It’s just …”
“Just what, Carter?” he snaps. I can tell his patience is wearing thin.
“He was bragging to his mates that his parents are going away over the weekend. He plans on inviting her over.”
“He fucking what?” he screams, standing to full height and bumping his head on the raised hood in the process. I feel like a prick for saying something. Snitching’s not my thing, but the idea of her going over there and being taken advantage of by that douche makes my blood boil for some reason.
His face turns bright red as he stands there rubbing his injured head. “I’m sorry. I just thought you’d like to know.” I feel like such a hypocrite. I invite girls over with the sole purpose of fucking them all the time.
My hope is now that he knows he’ll put a stop to it. At least I didn’t mention the side bet he made with his mate. “Don’t be sorry,” he says gripping my shoulder. “I appreciate you looking out for my girl. She’s alone a lot of the time with these crazy hours I work. I worry about her. Knowing she has you living next door now makes me feel better.”
Now he’s making me feel like a fraud. Not only have I thought about doing exactly what Brad wants to, I treat his daughter like a piece of shit. Why am I suddenly consumed with guilt?
Later that night, I sit in my room in complete darkness watching Indiana sitting at her window seat. I don’t usually do this kind of thing, so I feel like a stalker. She’s on her iPad again. I presume she’s messaging with someone because occasionally she throws her head back and laughs before typing a reply. I find myself smiling as I watch her. What the hell is she doing to me?
A few times she gazes towards my bedroom window. Logically I know she can’t see me. It’s pitch black. It did make me wonder. When my phone dings, alerting me I have a text message, my heart starts to race thinking it’s her. Of course it couldn’t be. She doesn’t have my number.
It’s my hook-up, Jen. I only know her name because she includes it in her message. She’s on her way over. I told her to come down the side of the house. I’m gonna sneak her in my bedroom window. Luckily my bedroom is on the ground floor.
Why Fuckwit chose to live in a house so large is beyond me. It’s way too big for one person. Well technically there’s three of us now, but before we moved in it was just him. You only have to look at his fancy-arse clothes and the ridiculously expensive European car he drives to know he’s a showy prick.
It’s not like I can bring her in through the front door. Fuckwit has already informed me, while living here I’m forbidden to have girls in my room. Screw him. His demands only make me want to defy him.
Ten minutes later I hear a tap at my window. “Carter. You in there?” Flicking my bedroom light on, I make my way towards the window. “Carter,” she says again. Thankfully, my mum and Fuckwit are sleeping in an upstairs room at the front of the house.
“Keep it down,” I tell her when I open the window.
“Sorry,” she says smiling up at me. I’d forgotten how pretty she is. Why does the image of a certain beautiful, annoying kid pop into my head as I help pull her through the window?
My head snaps up looking over towards Indiana’s bedroom. I’m surprised to see her staring straight back at me, a frown on her face. Being the bastard I am, I flip her off before closing the blinds. I don’t need her penetrating gaze putting me off my game.
I’m going to fuck blondie with everything I have, hoping to get Indiana out of my mind once and for all.
CHAPTER FIVE
Indiana
I don’t know why seeing that skank, Jennifer, sneaking into Carter’s bedroom upsets me, but it does. A lot. I’m already pissed off with him for ratting me out to my father. Seeing this just sends me over the edge. Tears burn my eyes, but I manage to hold them in. Fuck him. I refuse to give him the satisfaction of making me cry.
Feeling deflated, I say goodbye to Meg and I log off Facebook before climbing into bed. The fact that I’m actually upset only makes me angrier. Why does he get under my skin so much? The way I’m feeling right now, I know sleep isn’t going to come easy.