“Of course I’ve been hurt before,” I offer, a tad dismissively. “You know that, you’re one of the people who hurt me. I just don’t let bad things that happen have enough power over me to keep me down. It’s not my natural inclination, it wasn’t always easy; I just learned at an early age I needed to fight my own human instincts on some things or I’d be an unhappy person. I chose not to be unhappy. I fought my natural instincts, I fought teachings that had been instilled in me from birth, and I won. I guess maybe that’s why you perceive me as being so strong. I am strong; I can even conquer myself, if I set my mind to it.”
“That’s why you’re not afraid of me?”
I shrug. “Sometimes I am afraid of you,” I offer, since we’re being honest. “I don’t know exactly what you’re capable of, what your limits are, if you even have any. You’re definitely a gamble. But as long as you don’t actually, physically kill me, I’ll survive you. I’ll survive everybody. I don’t give outsiders enough access to my inner world to destroy me. They could torch everything they’re able to reach, and I’d still have a lot left. I have an abundance of mental strength, gained the same way all strength is acquired—by working out the muscle. Physically you can overpower me, but not mentally. I’ll always rise, from everything. I’m unconquerable.”
Shaking his head with a fond smile on his face, Carter reaches forward for a fry. “If I didn’t like you so much, I’d take that as a challenge.”
Reaching for another fry, I flash him an answering smile. “Then let’s hope you keep liking me.”
“Let’s.”
Chapter 19
In front of me, Carter holds up a bag of Twizzlers and a bag of Jolly Ranchers.
“Which one?” he asks.
“Trick question? We should obviously get both.”
Tossing both bags of candy into the blue shopping basket on his arm, he nods. “Respectable choice. I would’ve picked Jolly Ranchers.”
“I think it would be mean to make the Twizzlers homeless,” I offer.
He smiles down at me, wraps an arm around me, and leans in for a kiss.
A heavy sigh of irritation interrupts us as Erika Martin drops a box of 100-calorie snacks into the shopping basket. “Must be nice not to think about keeping your figure,” she comments. “We’ll have to meet up when we’re like 30, see if that sweet tooth catches up to you.”
I sigh, wrapping an arm around Carter’s waist. Erika narrows her eyes at me like I did it on purpose, but I don’t really care. She’s been such a bitch all night long, confirming my suspicions that hanging out with Carter and his friends was not a good idea.
He insisted, though. Made a good point that if we’re going to date, I’m going to have to be around his friends sometimes. Tonight, Cartwright invited a few people over to have a bonfire in his backyard, then watch a movie afterward. That sounded more accessible than one of their parties or a football game, so I decided this was the time to give in.
Even the least terrible thing I can do with these people is unpleasant. Carter I have such vastly different taste in friends.
“Got the marshmallows,” Brianna announces merrily, dropping them into Carter’s basket. “Oh, my God, I cannot wait for these s’mores.” Flashing me a smile, she asks, “Do you like s’mores, Zoey?”
“I do, but I don’t like my marshmallow burned,” I tell her. “I like it just warmed up, maybe a little bit brown.”
Brianna seems pretty okay. I was prepared for her to be standoffish like Erika since Carter called her out as someone he has also been intimate with, but theirs must have been a more casual arrangement—or she just didn’t care when it ended—because she has made several pleasant attempts to talk to me since Carter picked me up, and no one else has.
“So particular about what you put in your mouth,” Erika remarks.
“Can it, Erika,” Carter says.
Raising innocent eyes, she shoots him a wounded look. “What? We were talking about s’mores.”
“Keep being bitchy, you can haul your ass home,” he tells her.
Cartwright has no warmth for me either, but you wouldn’t know it now as he joins Carter’s team, dropping a pack of Hershey bars in the basket and mocking her. “What’s wrong, Erika? Is it that time of the month? Maybe we should open up these candy bars right here. When we get to the register, we can just tell ‘em it was a lady emergency.”
Erika rolls her eyes at him. “Ugh, spare me, Sparky. Do you fetch Carter his house slippers and the Sunday paper, too?”
“Pretty sure you’re the one who used to be his bitch, not me,” Cartwright offers back.
“Can we not start this again?” Brianna pleads. “Can you both just take a chill pill? Honestly.”