The Best Years: Year One, Part Two

Chapter T H I R T Y - T H R E E

- Caden's POV -

Did she really think she was gonna bait me into telling her all my sins?

Did she really think a few cups of Jungle Juice relaxed my subconscious enough to bare my soul to some new girl?

I was immune to her innocence, her big eyes, and her pale skin just advertising she hadn't been touched. I wasn't Oliver. I wasn't some sucker for some kind of antidote in the shape of a woman.

I didn't need an antidote. My life was great.

The whole room could have exploded with tension when I sat across from her giving her all the fucked to answers she wanted to hear. She wanted to label me damaged like everyone else. She wanted to know my personality compensates for some great trauma.

I could see the hope spark in her eye before her arms wrapped around, pushing her body into mine. I wanted to laugh but I kept my face tight. I had a role to play in this exchange. She's the only person in this room who doesn't know life is one big trauma and we're all doomed. What was she hopeful about.

For the slightest moment, I broke character relaxing against her forced affection.

"Hugs don't fix people Layla," my words lashed her positivity from between us when I pulled away from her arms.

I stormed out of the study pulling the door handle so hard it smacked the wall too hard. I thought I cracked the door, I didn't look back to confirm.

The tension inside that room faded as the bass from the music hit my chest before my ears. I didn't expect B to trail after me but I felt her hands caress my arm like I needed to be coddled. I brushed her off pushing through the rooms in order to get to the kitchen, where the alcohol lived. I was way too sober. The Jungle Juice hadn't been stirred and I could taste the pineapple and orange juice barely covering the sharp taste of the liquor in my cup.

"Pledge. Stir the alcohol every 10 minutes. Do you want people to think we're serving juice or alcohol?"

The pledge stood in front of me silent, exactly how we taught him to be. His job was to stand in the kitchen and serve drinks, silently, not a single word to anyone.

I felt better letting my anger lash out at others. I couldn't let it build up inside me. I wasn't willing to live with the build-up like mold inside me.

B was still trailing after me, lost, she had recently become clingy. She didn't have the sense that told her to give people space. I assumed it was born from somewhere but I never bothered to ask. That wasn't the kind of relationships I entertained.

Every relationship had a shelf-life, except for friendships. Friendships somehow survived everything - unconditionally. Those were the only type of relationships I kept.

This nagging feeling in the back of my head kept my attention through the music and conversations in front of me. The anger mixed with every annoyance I had ever felt demanded retribution.

I watched B talk to the people around us effortlessly, even flirting, smiling like they were interesting like she was genuine. She even lightly touched their hands or arms engaging with her whole body. She looked effortless. She didn't have the same innocence Layla did, she craved the attention and power the same way I did.

B would have been an easy target.

She turned back, locking eyes with me from across the kitchen island, making sure I was still there. Making sure she still had even my attention. There was something about her smile that sparked a territorial trait in me I never felt before that made me uncomfortable. Her smile was meant for me.