Carter Ortese is Trouble - completed (The Boys #1)

Chapter 17: Carter

Mom opens the curtains at eight in the morning on Sunday, and my eyes glue themselves shut. "Why?" I ask, voice hoarse. I'm groggy, tired, and I should not have hung out with Desmond last night after the date. We played video games at his place until about eleven, then my mom came and picked me up. She never chastised me about staying out late, so long as she knew where I was.

"Because we're seeing your grandparents today, remember?"

"Yeah," I mutter, rolling over and covering my head with a pillow to block out the light.

"How was the date?" My bed sinks as my mom sits on the corner.

I mumble into the pillow. She yanks it off my head and hits me with it.

"It was good. I like her."

"Ah, the three word sentences. At least you're turning into a real teenager." She blinks and pats my leg, which is still tucked under the covers, thankfully. Mom doesn't usually barge in, but she will to wake me up. "You treating her well?"

"As well as you treat me." I snatch my pillow back and stick it behind me. I blink and force myself to sit up, wiping sleep from my eyes.

"I hope you treat her better than that." My mom cups my face and brushes back my hair. I shake her off. "Oh, two dates, and you're too good for your mom?"

"This early in the morning, the only thing good enough for me is more sleep."

"You get up earlier than this for school."

"Only because it's required."

"Come on. I have breakfast ready." She taps my knee and heads out of my room, flicking on the overhead light for good measure. I groan and grab the pair of discarded jeans off my floor. I'm grateful they don't smell like Desmond's weed, considering he was smoking in his basement all last night.

I change into a clean plain shirt and meet Mom in the kitchen. The couch is already made up with the bed sheets folded off to the side. She hums to herself while she puts together our food, and she's in a good mood today.

"Did you quit your job?" I pull a chair up to the breakfast nook and take a seat.

"Why do you keep asking me that?" She notices where I'm looking and shrugs. "I had a relaxing Saturday, and your grandparents are putting another bit of money away for your college fund. Act surprised when they tell you." My mom divides scrambled eggs topped with cheese onto two plates and sits down across from me.

"Do they know I'm not going to college?"

"You are going eventually. I agreed to two gap years, Carter, but no more than that, you hear me?" She narrows her eyes and points a fork at me. A bit of cheese dangles from the end of it, and it's hard for me to take her seriously.

"Fine. Two years."

"I mean it." She stabs another bit of egg. "We'll work hard, save up money. I'll apply for financial aid and go back to school, and then you'll go too."

"Okay," I agree, mostly to stop the conversation. It's four years away, and I don't want to think that far ahead. I have plenty of people who believe I'm not the college type, and I tend to agree with them. Being a waiter is frustrating, but the tips are decent. For now, it works. Who knows what four years will bring?

"Finish your eggs, and then we're heading out."

* 

It takes twenty minutes to head across town into the hills. The homes here are nestled in the trees, with old Victorian style houses cropping up where cabins should be. We climb all the way up to the top of the hill, then back down the other side. Halfway down, the trees clear, and we catch a glimpse of the gleaming lake below. Mom pulls the car into a driveway that curves along the hill, straight next to the three story, sea foam green house.