no control

• thirty eight •

gladys

"That literally tastes like ass."

"Shut your filthy mouth! How do you even know what ass tastes like?"

I shrugged and took a long sip from my deliciously sweet and creamy caramel macchiato.

Brant scoffed, cradling his almond milk sugar-free vanilla latte with an extra pump of espresso. His concoction was most definitely the nastiest thing I'd ever put in my mouth and not worth the seven dollars he'd hashed out for it.

"Is goody goody Gladys a little ass eater?"

I rolled my eyes, smiling at his inane assumptions. "At least I take my coffee like a normal person."

"Sugar makes me fat," he grumbled.

"You've never been fat," I pointed out, pulling my laptop from my bag.

"So? I know how science works. Sugar is made of carbs and carbs are unkind to anyone's waistline."

"I watched you pound like six plus beers at the bonfire. You can't tell me you don't eat carbs."

"Of course I eat carbs. But only certain kinds. And beer is for special occasions."

I sighed, relinquishing this fight. He could eat or drink whatever the hell he wanted. I would just never agree that paying so much for a nasty drink would work for me.

"So, how'd things go yesterday?" he asked. "Your boss looked livid."

My gaze flicked up at him over my laptop. Well, you know. He spanked the shit out of me, ate me out, and fingered me into oblivion. Perfectly average Monday night.

"He's fine."

"Mhmm. Why is he like that? Isn't it a little . . . weird?"

I shrugged. "He's just trying to keep me safe."

It wasn't like I could admit my boss was actually my territorial AF boyfriend slash stalker who liked to punish me when I didn't do what he wanted. I shifted in my seat, my rubbing thighs sparking that addictive ache inside me.

"Have you given any more thought to what you're going to do after graduation?" Brant asked.

"I thought I was helping you study for Lemons' exam?" I said, arching a brow. "Why are you taking US History as a senior anyway? I thought they didn't allow that."

"Don't change the subject, Wilder. We'll get to the studying but I wanna know."

"There's not much to know. I guess I'll stay at this internship until I figure out my next stop. I don't know really."

He sipped on his coffee, bobbing his head.

"When do you move to Atlanta?" I asked.

"End of June."

"Seems kinda early, doesn't it?"

"Football summer training starts early for freshmen."

"Oh, that's cool. Are you excited?"

Lifting his big shoulders, he sighed. "I don't know, honestly. I mean, of course I'm excited for college. There're gonna be amazing parties and amazing new friends and amazing girls . . ."

I arched a brow, smirking.

"But I feel like I'm already a little homesick and I haven't even moved yet."

"I think that's normal, Thornton. This is a big change for your life. It's okay to be nervous."

He shook his head. "It's not just that. My parents have been on my ass all the time lately now that I'll be leaving the nest. If I fuck up even a little, they're going to take my car or my phone or stop paying my rent. They've always been controlling but I just—I'm more stressed than ever. I feel like I'm walking on egg shells all the time."