We've Met Before

27 - Not The End of It

KAIA

I thought that maybe I'd warm up to the ambiance once I meddled inside, but I haven't. Cade walks around, his head held high, his lazy smile on his face, his arm around me.
Football players come around every corner, comments spewing out of their mouths.
There's huddles of girls whispering along the nooks of Ashley Oakley's lavish backyard. Her pool stands in between it all. A centerpiece for the wealthy, I guess.
I never grew up poor, but I also never had birthday parties, or celebrations at my own house. My mom seemed to always be too drunk to have one. Instead, she'd call someone to get me out of the house, to have me join some foreign relatives party. The only time my mother seemed to be lucid enough to remember I was in the house were those rare mornings where she'd be hungover, guilt washing over her.
    It's warm outside, April's humidity frizzying my hair as I stand, latched to Cade's arm. We walk over to a small seating section, a glass table in the middle of both outdoor couches. I sit down, beside Cade.
    Red plastic cups litter the fake grass, the marble outdoor tile smudged with joints, and early evening make outs. I stare at a pair, kissing in between the bushes as if it's going to hide their rendezvous. They seem passionate, holding onto each other.
    "Do you like watching?" Cade whispers to me, watching along with me.
    I blink. Do I? "I'm not sure."
    Their kiss intensifies, the boy becoming to ravishingly enthralled in the motion of their bodies. Soon enough, they're both laughing, his hands gripping the bottom of her thighs as her hand travels down his pants —but my eyes stay glued on them.
    I shouldn't be enjoying this. I shouldn't be liking this.
    Cade's fingers trickle on my waist, watching me intently as I make out their obvious, public hookup.
    "You've missed out on so much after being stuck inside your head in so long. There's a world out there of people who do things you've never witnessed." He pauses, pulling me impossibly closer to him. I can smell his minty breath. "I promise you, they like being watched too."
    I tear my eyes away from them, flushing and staring at my feet. I pull down the hem of my black dress, feeling exposed. Has it ridden up my thighs?
    I can't tell.
    "Stop. I just think it's weird that they're doing that... here," I tell him. Avoiding the smug fucking look on his face. Cheeky bastard.
    He raises his hands in defense. "Right."
    I roll my eyes, trying my best to prove something I know is complete and utter bullshit. "I'm being serious! I mean in public?! That's crazy, right?!"
    In public.
    Such a bad thing to do.
    Maybe it's half shock, or half thrill, but my body aches, and my muscles yearn to work. The dress on my body suddenly feels too tight, and Cade's statement suddenly feels too real.
    I really have missed a lot being so stuck in my own bubble.
    I've been so busy taking care of my mom, while simultaneously taking care of myself, that I haven't really lived.
    The farthest I've travelled away from home is a family holiday when I was three in Vancouver. The strangest food I've eaten is duck pâté. The longest I've held my breath is 23 second.
    I wonder how much he's seen.
    I take a sip of water out of my cup.
    "I'd fuck you in public just so everyone knows your mine," he whispers, making me choke. I cough out sputters of water and everyone around us stares at me.
    One scowl from Cade and they all look away.
    He strokes my back, igniting me with whatever the two people in the bushes had.
    My head turns to the blonde, redhead, and brunette trio walking over to us, their bodies gorgeously decorated by their small bikini tops and short mini-skirts.
    They all look so, grown up. They look like they haven't needed much to grow up. Just time, and a couple tubes of lip gloss.
    Ashley is the first to speak. "I'm so glad you could all make it! It's so nice seeing you, Cade." Her eyelashes flutter and her blonde hair blows against the wind as if she was born inside a shampoo commercial.
    Cade sits silently, swishing his drink melancholically inside his cup. I smile awkwardly, breaking his silence. "He thinks it's nice to see you too." I give her a satisfied smile and lean against him, my hair laying in his shoulder, my hand riding along his knee and thigh.
    I hear his breath hitch between his throat, his hands stopping their rotation. Ashley smiles at me, her nostrils flaring slight as she nods.
    "Luke, how are you?" She smiles to a giddy Luke. That man is always looking for a good time, and good thing Ashley looks like exactly that.
    Her posse stays closely behind, guarding her from bad lighting, and wind blowing in the wrong direction.
    Luke beams at her. "I'm doing great, doll."
    Dean takes a short sip out of his cup, rolling his eyes at his idiot friend. Brunette saunters over, dangerously leaving her post. She sits beside Dean, smiling a teeth grin at Dean as she begins talking to him. Dean mutters something to her, and her Dramamine's immediately changes. She stands up, walking back embarrassedly to her old position, becoming nothing but Ashley Oakley's bitch again.
    The other guys around us stare at the scene, tongues out like thirsty dogs.
     The only three who seem rather unaffected are Cade, Dean, and more or less Luke. Luke seems rather happy, but there is possibly nothing that can upset Luke, so there's that. Dean and Cade seem so awfully bored that I wonder why Cade even wanted to come here in the first place.
    "I've been wanting to see you," she winks, dragging an acrylic nail on his bare chest. 
    He grabs it, pulling her down onto his lap, and saying something loud for all of us to hear. "Seeing just isn't enough sometimes."
    She looks to Cade for any sign of jealousy, and he doesn't budge, not even bothering to look at her. Luke knows this entire thing isn't anything but a ploy to make Cade jealous, but I also think Luke isn't embarrassed enough to not have some fun with it while he can.
     Luke isn't bad looking. He has a very boy-next-door typa feel, which isn't bad, but nothing compared to blonde quarterbacks with amazing biceps.
    Ashley wriggles in his lap. He removes his hands off her, leaning back against the couch and laughing along with all the other football guys around him. Ashley's heels click on the floor as she walks away, the two other girls rushing behind her in a hurry.
    "That was so mean," I say, turning towards Luke.
    I didn't like her, but it wasn't right to publicly humiliate her.
    "She's just here for a quick fuck with your man, doll. Learn to play the hand you were dealt with," Luke explains. He reaches across the table towards a guy holding a rolled joint in between his fingers. "Markesh, let me hit it."
    The guy obliges, passing it over to Luke as he takes a long inhale, holding it in slightly as he closes his eyes.
    I stare at him. I see him do something he shouldn't be doing. I see him enjoying it.
    "Pass it."
    Heads turn towards me, everyone shocked at my small revelation. Cade looks at me, half startled, half amused.
    "Since when do you smoke?"
    "There's a world out there," I respond back, earning a couple ooo's and chuckles from the group around us.
    Luke hesitates, looking at Cade for silent permission. I would be upset, but I like knowing that shit won't happen to me unless Cade let's it. It's comforting to know there is a strict barrier between me, and the rest of the crowd. The same way Cade doesn't respond to Ashley, because that's what I'm here for.
    Equal control.
    "Give her the fucking joint, Luke."
    "You don't have to be such a fucking jerk, dude." He passes it to me, frowning.
    I take the joint, wrapping my lips around the paper as I breathe in through my mouth, the warm smoke filtering through my teeth, my throat, my lungs, and my body.
    I can feel Cade's eyes digging holes into me. My eyes close slightly at the feeling, my body stimulated by his indirect contact, and the weed cementing itself into my bloodstream. It almost feels surreal. This feels like something I would've imagined in a dream on some random Tuesday night last year. I would be stuck inside my house, wallowing about where the fuck my mom could be.
    But it feels nice.
    It feels nice to be off the hook. It feels nice to let my hair down, and massage my own scalp, not because I need to look pretty for someone else, but simply because my scalp hurts.
I huff out a small cloud of smoke, passing the blunt back to Luke.
"What the fuck are you staring at?" Cade barks at the rest of the group, making all their stares scatter around to whatever is the nearest object.
I hit his arm, frowning at his outburst. "Cade, don't."
He rolls his eyes, but softening his gaze towards me. "I don't like people looking at you, and these motherfuckers don't seem the catch a clue."
"Aw, you'll b fine, love." I pat his cheek, smiling at him. Dean strolls back around, doing a double check for brunette before sitting down and making a fake gagging noise.
"I'm gone for a couple minutes and y'all are already eye fucking."
Cade scoffs. "Where the fuck is Jane? You're much more tolerable when you're whipped over her."
Dean smiles, a small blush creeping onto his dark cheeks. "She's not much of a party person, Steele. She's at home."
Jane really never did like parties. It's always been Jennifer who's hauled her along to these sorts of things, but since they're not exactly on best of terms, then she must've stayed home.
Not exactly on best terms because of me.
"Is here sister here? Is Jennifer here?"
Dean shrugs, chugging the rest of his red solo cup, before exhaling and leaning back against the couch. "Shit, I don't know. Beats me."
——
"I need to go to the bathroom," I whisper to Cade. He nods and stands up, interlacing his fingers with mine, dragging my hand behind him as he walks inside the house.
He turns right into a brightly lit hallway, and another right towards a closed door. He opens the knob and there it is.
A bathroom.
"How do you know the house so well?" I ask, before mentally slapping myself for asking such a stupid question. A question I now realize I don't want an answer for.
His mouth opens to answer but I raise my hand, stopping him. "Actually —don't answer that."
It's no surprise to anyone that he dated Ashley on and off for a while. It made sense. They made sense.
Cheer caption, football quarterback, rich girl, hot guy. The sort of relationship people don't bat an eye about. There's no whispers, or secluded conversations about; why is he with her?
Would we have been together earlier if I had been different. Prettier, or wealthier, or less fucked up. If my mom had been sober and I would've gone to birthday parties, and if she had driven me around to school clubs, and helped take me to sports practices, would I have had more to me?
Wishful thinking.
I walk inside the bathroom. I shut the door, locking it.
    I pull my dress up and sit on the toilet, peeing. I lean against my knees, tapping my chin until I finish.  I clean and turn the faucet on, washing my hands with Ashley's organic chamomile soap.
    I hate the fact that I actually really like her soap.
    I hear commotion outside the door, rustling and a couple shouts.
    I prop my ear against the door, hesitant to whatever is happening.
    "You think you were going to get away with it?" One voice speaks, getting closer to the door, along with a couple foot steps.
    Cade's voice responds, as clear and confident as daylight. "Touch me, and you'll see how much I can actually get away with."
    I open the door, realizing this isn't friendly banter.
    Cade immediately turns around, his face pale but serious. His hand snakes around my waist, pulling me behind him, his height blocking any possible view from who's the other person.
    I hear a laugh, and a couple of ooo's. "Glad you brought your bitch here."
    Elliot.
    Cade doesn't falter. Not a single inch of him hesitates. His fist throws itself back, before colliding directly with Elliot's already mangled face. I jump back in slight horror. The audible noise of his fist cracking against his jaw holds a commendable silence in my ear.
    It rings. It feels like fury, it feels like heat, it feels like rage.
    Two others emerge from the shadows, fledging themselves towards Cade. Cade turns towards me and shoves me inside the bathroom, pulling the door shut. I hear him do something to the door, but I can't make out exactly what he did. I pull on the door, trying to get out, but it's useless.
    "Cade! Oh my god! Cade!" I pound my hand against the door, another crack ringing through the empty hall.
    Somebody is bound to wander inside the house.
    "You son of a bitch," an unfamiliar voice speaks. I hear tumbling, and a thump against the door. A crack follows the noise, and a grunt escapes someone's lips as another thump lands farther off into the hall.
    I bang my fist again against the door, my heart racing. What if it's Cade's who's landing somewhere against the wall across the hall? I reach for the door knob, twisting and pulling and pushing.
    Punches regurgitate in the hall, groans escaping someone's lips as they keep falling.
    "Open the fucking door!" I scream, fighting against this stupid piece of fucking metal. I look around the bathroom, trying to find something to prop the door open again. The towel holder. The towel holder in my house is detachable because my mom used to hide nips of vodka inside them whenever my dad still visited.
    She knew he would've had an excuse to take me out of her control if he had ever even suspected of her having alcohol in the house.
    I shake the holder, finding the wiggling of it as a good sign of luck. I prop it off, dropping the soft white towel on the floor. It's probably organic cotton or something.
    I place it against the door, and the door frame, inching it slowly between the small crevice of space between both objects. I crane further into it, finally twisting, and finding leverage. I slant the bar towards me, the door slowly cracking open.
    The door budges, an object falling down on the other side. I fully open the door, my head creating premonitions without permission of the scene I'm about to witness.
    Two guys lay on the floor, completely knocked out. Their bodies have become nothing but door mats against Cade. He's holding a third guy by the collar, banging his head against the wall before kneeing him in the stomach.
    A fourth guy treads behind Cade, grabbing a fistful of his blonde hair and punching him square on his jaw. I take the bar between my hands, and jog towards him, raising the bar, and bringing it down with all the force in my body against the guy's head.
    He drops to the floor.
    Holy shit.
    Cade's breath is restless, his chest heaving as he stares at the four people on the floor around us. I can make out Elliot's face in one of them. There's blood stains on the wall, not huge homicide-crime-scene stains, but bar-brawl-stains stains.
    "You should've stayed inside the fucking bathroom. This wasn't your fight to fucking pick, Kaia. You could've gotten yourself fucking killed," Cade spews, grabbing my hand, and walking out of the hall.
    I clench my fingers around his palm, his touch reassuring me that he's still here. That he wasn't the one against the wall. His has a single cut on his cheek bone, the rugged gash bleeding profusely as sweat falls down his forehead.
    Even when he's hurt he looks so breathtaking.
    "I was scared, and you locked me inside a fucking bathroom while you took one a one-v-four," I shout, upset that he expected me to stay as he was possibly dying outside.
    I don't know if the intentions were to hurt Cade, or simply kill him, but I wasn't going to stay inside to find out.
    He breathed harshly before lecturing me again. "I don't care. We need to get the fuck out of here before someone sees us." His head swivels to every side of the large mansion, his eyes on the lookout for anyone managing to cross the patio doors.
    His breath is shortening every time he takes a step.
     "Cade, what's happening?" I stop him quickly, feeling his body begin to lean on me. His breath is shallow, and his hands are clutching as his chest as if he can't wait to read his heart out of its ribcage.
     "I'm okay, keep going. We have to get out." He musters on without saying another word.
     "I'll drive," I tell him, a reluctant but defeated nod coming out of Cade as a response.
——
     I plunge the keys into the ignition, twisting and beginning to back up. Driving feels so good.
     Therapeutic maybe.
    But I don't have a car so it's not something I get to do very often.
     I look over to Cade. His eyes are drooping, and his breath has slowed down too much for my own comfort.
     As I drive down the neighborhood, I place hand on his chest, trying my best to keep him awake. "Cade. Cade, stay awake for me, alright?"
    Should I take him to the hospital? Would they ask about the bloodstains? I can't afford to take him to an emergency room. He could lose scholarship offers if he gets in trouble with the law, and I can't ruin his future like that.
    I drive at 80 mph, dashing and hazing through all the cars. I take the freeway and increase my speed to 110, pressing down on the gas until my thigh begins to numb.
    I look at Cade every couple of seconds, placing my entire box full of dreams(which doesn't have very much inside it it,) and all the possible hope inside me that he'll stay awake and lucid.
    I make it home in record time.
    I should really become a nascar racer or something.
    I hop out of the car, walking around the other side and opening the passenger door. My eyes burn but I ignore it. I can't afford to get upset right now.
    My mom used to tell me that the best thing to do when you feel emotional, is to grow colder. Maybe that's really bad advice considering who my mom is, but it's also the only advice I can possibly follow right now.
    I let Cade place his weight on me as we tip-toe inside his parents house. I lay him on the couch and walk over to the guest bathroom, examining up and over the cabinets for a first-aid kit. I finally find one and I sprint back to the living room where Cade is struggling to keep his eyes open.
    "Say something to me, love." I prop my hand underneath his chin, just wanting to hear his voice so I know he's still with me.
    He smiles. A stupid, cocky, Cade Steele smile. "You look so pretty right now, Sunshine."
    I open the small box, flushing. There he is.
    I place my hand on his shoulder, sitting closely beside him to reach his cheek. His hand musters the bottom of my thighs and he places me on his lap so I'm straddling him. I let out a small yelp and finally relax into him. His arms wrap around my waist, pulling me closer to his face as I shake the bottle of anti-septic in my hand.
    I dribble a little on a clean piece of cloth, hovering the fabric over his wound.
    "It's going to burn a little."
    He nods, taking a breath deeper than he has in the last twenty minutes. The fabric presses into his skin and I can hear his audible wince. His eyes press shut, and his hands tighten around my waist, his nails gripping into the black fabric of my dress.
    His sweating begins again, and I press a little more to make sure the wound is cleaned effectively.
    The more I press, the deeper I notice the wound is.
    "You should've let me come out earlier," I mumble under my breath, my heart shattering at this single wound on his face.
    "I'm fine. It's just a cut, Kaia," he whispers back, staring into me.
    "You almost had some sort of heart attack in the car, Cade. Let's also remember you were about to have your shit rocked by the guy I knocked out."
    He smiles, rolling his eyes. "Only you would lecture me about the dangers of getting jumped."
    I frown, pressing a little deeper on purpose.
    "Ow!"
    I smile. "Oops."
    He scowls at me. "I don't think I want you nursing me anymore. It was hot when it first started but now you're just getting mean."
    I place the cloth on the lid of the kit, wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling him towards me. "This isn't funny, Cade. Something bad could've happened to you."
    He sighs, placing his head on my cheek. His hair tickles my face, and I breath him in. Above all the sweat, and the slight smell of beer and weed, he still smells like Cade Steele. Minty as ever.
    "I'm sorry. I just didn't want anything to happen to you. I thought I could take them all on by myself." He looks up, grinning. "Technically, I did take them all by myself. You got there to beat like what? One guy?"
    I smack his head. "Give me more credit, asshole."
    "Whatever," he pouts. He pushes me slightly away from him. He brings his arms to the hem of his shirt, tugging upwards as he proceeds to take it off. His torso is riddled with premature bruises, proving that the fight wasn't as one sided as he claims it was.
    I know it's because he doesn't want to worry me, but he asks me to be honest with him, and to not keep things from him, but then he turns around and does the same.
    He thinks that I'll be hurt, and broken, and devastated, and although maybe I would be when it comes to him— I've taken more shit in my life then he can account for.
    I place my arms on the sides of his torso, feeling the tender skin of every single bruise littering his skin. I push him back, letting his back lean on the couch as his hands roam around my bare thighs.
    "You can't keep treating me like I'm your daughter. Like you have to shield me, and protect me  from everything bad and ugly. I'm not the girl who used to hide behind the couches at parties." I lift my hands to his neck, feeling the lines of his vocal chords, and the lump that's gathered around his throat. "I'm not the girl who sat quietly next to you in biology our freshman year. I'm not a little girl anymore, Cade."
     I edge my head to his ear, whispering. "I'm not a little girl, so stop treating me like one. I'm not a little girl, and you know that."
    His fingers nimbly grab my thighs, his jaw slack as he lifts my dress up to my waist, revealing a pair of red panties.
    His breath hitches and I kiss his neck, my core already aching for him. His skin is slightly moist, a salty taste lingering on my tongue as it feels every nook of him.
    His hands grip onto my waist as I feel the bruises on his chest. I dip my fingers slightly into one near his collarbone, and he winced, biting his lower lip as his fingers dig further into my hips. I wince slightly as well, feeling the slight burn from his hands.
    "I've been wanting to take this dress of you all night. You looked beautiful, but I'm afraid you look prettier without it." His hands wrap to the zipper on my back, lowering it down gently until it falls off my shoulders.
    I lift my head, looking down the hall.
    Are his parents here?
    "They aren't here. They went out for dinner and drinks to celebrate that my dad's back," Cade whispers, dragging his hand across my matching red bra.
    I nod, glad he was able to read my thoughts.
    Just when I thought it was getting harder to read me.
    I take his wrists, placing them to the side of his body. His eyes are ablaze, completely entranced, and I feel good.
"You'll touch me where, and when I tell you to. Okay?"
He nods, not saying anything.
"Words, Cade."
"Yes. God, yes."
I smile, bringing my lips to his neck. I feel a soft groan flow out his mouth, his hands twitching at his sides as I make my way from his neck, to his chest, and to his toned abdomen.
I bring my hands to the waist and of his shorts, smoothing my fingers over his v-line. I hop off his lap, going down on my knees, between his legs.
"Lift your hips," I command, watching him do so. I drop his shorts off, leaving him only in his boxers. His leg muscles strain and contract as I rub his erection through the fabric.
"What do you want from me, Cade?"
He licks his bottom lip. "I want your mouth."
I place my hands on his knees, lifting myself up slightly. "How do you want my mouth? Use your hands to show me."
It takes him milliseconds before he grabs my chin harshly, pressing me between his fingers, smothering my bottom lip with his thumb. "I want these pretty lips wrapped around my cock, Kaia."
I smile, wrapping my lips around his thumb, sucking slightly as his cock begins to slightly wet his boxers.
"Don't have to ask me twice."
I pull his boxers down, taking out his length and staring at it. I felt confident, but I'm not sure I can fit all of it inside my mouth. Am I supposed to?
I watched porn as a joke once with Dahlia, and Kaitlyn, and it looked barbaric.
I can't remember if the girl gave the guy a blow job, but first time for everything.
Times like these are the ones where I wish Cade was as inexperienced as I am. He's been with other girls and knows exactly how to give it, but the only dick I've seen in person is his, so I don't have much to go off of.
"Don't be nervous, Kaia. You don't know how fucking breathtaking you look right now, just do what you think is right," he muses, breathing in between every word.
I kiss the tip of him, feeling the wetness already ejecting from him. He closes his eyes and throws his head back, his biceps gouging through his skin. I take him in my mouth, swiveling my tongue along the bottom his shaft. His hands immediately come to the top of my head, gripping my blonde hair as stuttered oh my god exhales out of his lips.
It's erotic, and it gives me enough confidence to continue.
I go deeper, his length filling my throat deeper, and deeper. A slight gag flows through me, but this only motivates me to keep going. Cade's hands fist my hair harshly, his hips steady beneath me, although I can feel the urge of his body to thrust them upwards.
I shove him further down, and I move back up, repeating the movement at a faster pace. The feeling of his fingers tugging my hair and the sounds coming out his mouth tear me apart as I keep bouncing my head up and down.
"God, you feel like fucking Heaven," he groans through gritted teeth, throwing his head back onto the headboard of the couch.
My eyes begin to burn, and my vision is becoming to blur a bit. It's becoming harder to breathe but I want to see him come. I want to taste him. I want to feel him run down my throat.
I move faster, and faster, and faster, and then he lets out a final groan.
Ecstasy emanates from his body, his hips finally thrusting upwards and releasing back down onto the couch. His chest heaves, his mouth pants. Warm liquid seeps into my mouth, a taste similar to the sweet taste of his sweat coating my tongue.
I remove myself from him, finally breathing in fresh air. He lifts me up, placing me on his lap and devouring my lips. His hands move to the straps of my bra, lowering each one off my shoulder. He drops the band of the lace and exposes me to him, taking in my breasts between his mouth.
"We should get you more of these," he whispers.
I laugh. "You're injured, Cade. I'm not doing anything too heavy right now." I know that he'd bend me over this couch right now if I have him permission to.
"No. I want to see you finish. I'll never talk to you again if you don't let me finish you off. I want you coming on my fucking fingers."
I gasp as he bites down on my breast, his fingers grabbing the hip band of my panties. I grab his shoulders and he winces. I check where I grabbed and realize it's a larger, harsher bruise than the ones on his chest.
That one must've hurt more than the others.
I push him against the couch. "As much as I'd love for you to go through with your plans, no. You're in pain, and you need some sleep." I pause. "We also need to figure out what to do with Elliot and Gabby. Tonight was a warning, and I hope you know Elliot isn't giving up anymore."
Cade groans, stuffing his face against the pillow next to him. "I already beat that losers face in twice. I'll let him know that I'm always ready for a third."
"I know, but I also don't want anymore bruises on you. You need to start taking care of yourself, Cade. I know that you aren't the only one you're responsible for, but I don't want to see you neglecting yourself."
    He lifts his hand to my cheek. "You should start taking your own advice, and maybe let me finish you off." His eyes twinkle, and his eyelashes bat.
    I roll myself off him, grabbing my dress from the floor and walking towards the stairs. "Nice try, lover boy."