With his hand, he gestures down the hall noncommittally, an exasperated sigh leaving his lips that I majorly suspect is bullshit. “Where to?”
**
“This is a terrible idea,” I mutter as he climbs into the golf cart we found abandoned on the side of the main building. We walked around the entirety of the building, contemplated heading toward the waterfall, but with the sun set now, it would be pointless.
“Would you shut the fuck up and get in already?” Caspian grumbles as he twists the key that was left in the ignition, powering the machine to life.
I don’t know who this one belongs to, or why it was out in the open for anybody to take, but I’m not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. After my session with the doc, my hankering for getting into some trouble is strong, and it’s clear Caspian possesses that same need.
Looking left, then right, making sure I don’t see anyone—or that nobody sees us—I begrudgingly climb in beside him. We’re moving before my ass is barely planted in the seat. My body jerks as he presses on the gas, and we make our way down the pathway. “When I suggested we hang out, I didn’t have grand theft auto in mind.”
Kind of a lie. I’m relishing in this shit. The thrill of potentially getting caught… it’s fucking exhilarating. I’m not a daredevil or a trouble seeker by any means, but sometimes it’s necessary.
Caspian grunts before tossing a look my way. “Yeah, well, beggars can’t be choosers, princess.”
A scowl forms on my face that makes him chuckle, but it’s a façade. The nickname, as condescending as it is, doesn’t bother me… like, at all. It’s hot as hell in a degrading sort of way.
Driving down the pathway, it’s a miracle we don’t see anybody—no staff, no residents. Not a soul. “Where are we going?” I ask, after a few minutes of driving.
“Fuck if I know,” Caspian replies with a laugh. “We can finally see what’s on this damn island.”
We’ve long since passed all the buildings easily accessible to us. The terrain surrounding the pathway we’re weaving around is green and thick and lush. Humidity is thick, the air moist as we fly by the shrubbery, going much faster than I even thought possible on a golf cart. The water is in the distance. I know it by memory alone, as it’s nothing more than inky darkness this time of night. It’s gorgeous in its turquoise shade during the day. Pristine and clean. Bet it feels good to dip into too. I’ve surprisingly only gone in the water the one time I cliff jumped with Cas.
The air smells salty and floral out here, a vast difference from the scent of pollution and asphalt back home. Everything is fresh, free of bumper-to-bumper cars and overpopulation. I hate to admit it, but had the circumstances of my stay here been a little different, it wouldn’t be such a bad place to stay. It’s a breath of fresh air compared to the chaos in Hollywood.
Caspian flies around a corner, the cart teetering on two wheels. My stomach bottoms out, a bubble of laughter slipping between my parted lips as the wind whips us in the face, his hair blowing all around him. The scent of whatever tropical, clean shampoo he uses wafts around us, and it’s suddenly all I notice.
Not the flashes of green passing by in my periphery.
Not the alarmingly fast pace of my pulse.
Not the fear that we’re going to get in major trouble for stealing this golf cart.
No… it’s his scent. The way it tickles some part of my brain that has my mouth salivating. The way I remember so fucking vividly how it smelled with my nose buried in his neck, and how the scent, mixed with the salty, musky taste of his skin, set my blood on fire as we rolled around between the sheets.
There is something about Caspian that just eats away at me. He’s terrible for me—walking red flags at every corner—but… I don’t know, I’m slowly becoming obsessed.
In one of the many failed attempts at therapy growing up, I was told I do that… become obsessed easily.
“You very easily get attached to people, Rowan,”Dr. Tram once told me during one of our few sessions.“You latch onto them, and make them your whole world, giving way too much of yourself.”
Abandonment issues is what she stated.
“These issues stem from a fear of loneliness, and they affect the way you keep and manage relationships.”
It’s bullshit, if you ask me. I don’t have abandonment issues. She acted like I was one of those kids in Third World countries who were left alone to cry in a soiled diaper and an empty stomach.
And I don’t latch onto people. I have plenty of friends who I see on a very normal basis.
Dr. Weaver seems to have a bit of a different appraisal of me. While she agrees with Dr. Tram, about the abandonment issues, she believes I keep everyone at an arm’s length to protect myself.
“You have this innate need to surround yourself with people; you want to be wanted, but you don’t let anybody in deep enough to hurt you,”Dr. Weaver had said in one of our first sessions. “You don’t give anybody the opportunity to be able to leave you.”
I let people get close to me. The twins, for starters. They know everything about me.
Well… maybe noteverything, but who honestly spills their entire life story, all the nooks and crannies, the good and the bad? Nobody. It’s normal to keep shit to yourself, or even stretch the truth, especially if it sheds you in an unfavorable light.
The pathway we’re driving on winds around for quite a while until it just… stops. A huge building comes into view, similar to the resident buildings. Squinting, I can barely make out the sign by the front entrance:Black Diamond Employee Building.
