Chapter 5: Daisy

##Chapter 5: Daisy

Aunt Marnie knows that Carter and I don't get along. I've groused about him on several occasions. Multiplied by infinity.

Noah and Carter met during football camp before freshman year and have been tight ever since. Even though Noah has skills when it comes to football, he's not good enough to turn pro. He loves it but doesn't live and breathe it the way some of the other guys on the team do. Noah has already taken the LSAT and is working on completing his applications for law school.

Carter, on the other hand, lives and breathes football. It's his passion. His focus. He and I don't talk about his future, but I hear the gossip floating around campus. Most guys are more than happy to boast about their prospects if they're heading to the NFL. But Carter isn't one of them. He's guarded and private. He doesn't discuss his family or brag about his post-college plans. I may live with the guy, but I know next to nothing about him. Which is just fine by me.

Thankfully Aunt Marnie doesn't say anything more on the subject. The last thing I need is to get my butt chewed out in front of Carter. He'd probably pull up a chair, munch on a bag of popcorn, and enjoy the show.

The loud, happy voices emanating from the backyard make all four of us turn toward the French doors. It's still early, but there are already about forty people on the patio and enjoying themselves in the pool. I smile while watching Uncle Craig flip burgers and hot dogs. He's broken out his blue Superman apron and is laughing with one of the neighbors as he takes a swig from his beer bottle. If the entire football team turns out like they did last year, he'll have to man the grill for the entire afternoon.

Catching sight of a few teammates, Noah and Carter exit through the glass doors.

"Slather on some sunscreen!" Aunt Marnie calls after them. When they glance back at her, she points to a couple of yellow bottles on a table near the door. "Safety first."

Not following the guys outside, I linger behind in the kitchen, giving my aunt a kiss on the cheek. I love spending time with her. Sometimes I feel guilty for thinking it, but she's the mother I wish I'd been born with.

I gesture at the spread in front of us. "Is there anything I can help with?"

With a critical eye, she surveys the bowls of salads and pastas on the granite island. Instead of hiring a caterer like most working women, she always opts to make food for parties herself. By the looks of it, she's going to feed a small army. Or the BU football team. They may not be an army, but they certainly eat like one. "Sure. You can help carry these to the table set up out back in about fifteen minutes."

I nod. "Sounds like a plan."

Now that the food has been taken care of, my aunt washes her hands and dries them with a towel. As she does, her gaze lingers on my face. "How's everything going?" Her eyes narrow as she studies me. "Are you doing all right?"

Instead of firing off a response, I force myself to inhale a breath and calmly let it out. "Yeah, I'm fine."

Now that Carter has joined the party, the agitation buzzing through my system gradually dissipates. Yes, I'm irritated with him for his antics the other night, but there's more to my unease than just that alone. Carter has the uncanny ability of setting me on edge. It's constant. Which is exhausting.

If her penetrating gaze is anything to go by, Aunt Marnie doesn't believe me. "Classes are going okay?"

"So far, so good." I'm a graphic art major. Now that all my general education requirements are out of the way, I was able to fill my schedule with art classes. I tacked on a sociology class-which I love-because I'm interested in the subject.

Too bad Carter ended up in the same section. We've never had one class together until now. I don't even know what he's majoring in, and yet, we somehow got stuck in Soc 210-Current Social Problems.

Still eyeing me, she hangs up the towel, and tries to suss out the truth. "And living with Noah and Carter is working out?"

I wouldn't go that far.

But I can't tell her that.

Stalling for time, I grab a carrot stick from the humongous veggie platter and munch on it while shrugging. "It's fine."

Again, my mind tumbles back to the stunt Carter pulled Friday night. He's lucky he made himself scarce for the rest of that evening or I don't think I could have been held responsible for my actions.

Any future dates with Logan can be kissed goodbye. I texted the blond frat boy yesterday to see if we could meet up and discuss my living situation in more depth to straighten out any misconceptions he might have.

I never heard back from him, which I'm pretty sure means that my initial assumptions were spot on.

And do you know who I can blame for that?

Carter freaking Prescott.

Aunt Marnie leans against the counter and crosses her arms over her chest. "How are you and Carter getting along?"

"Just as well as we always do," I say with forced brightness.

It's not exactly a lie.

She sighs and gently asks, "Have you ever considered cutting Carter some slack?"

My brows slam together, and I straighten to my full height.

Cut him some slack?

The guy is a total asshole. And I'm not one to throw that word around lightly.

"Why would I do that?" If she knew even a tenth of what Carter has said or done to me, she wouldn't be so quick to make that suggestion.

Aunt Marnie shrugs her slender shoulders and a strange look flickers in her eyes. "Have you ever considered the possibility that if you got to know Carter better, maybe gave him more of a chance, you might find some common ground?"

My mouth tumbles open. "I can say with total honesty that I have never considered that possibility."

I'd much rather wallop him upside the head. I'm only sorry that his reflexes are good and that he caught the remote control I threw at him the other night before it could smack him in the forehead.

How satisfying would that have been?

Maybe Marnie and my mother have more in common than I'd originally suspected. She must be legitimately crazy to offer up that idea. I've learned enough about Carter Prescott to know that I'm not interested in discovering anything else.

Give him more of a chance?

Never!

Friday night wasn't the first time he's ruined one of my dates. The guy enjoys messing with me. It's his favorite pastime. On top of that, he's an arrogant, womanizing, football-playing jerk who likes to get into fights. I haven't personally witnessed him getting into a physical altercation, but I've seen the aftermath on his face the next morning.

My eyes fasten on Carter through the window just in time to see him strip off his graphic tee and toss it onto one of the loungers scattered around the concrete patio. All his sun-kissed muscles ripple as he dives headfirst into the crystal-clear pool.

My mouth dries, and my heart picks up its tempo.

"Daisy?" Aunt Marnie's voice sounds like it's traveling through a tunnel from a million miles away as she waves a hand in front of my face. "Earth to Daisy."

My face heats in embarrassment as I yank my gaze from the spot where Carter last stood. Under no circumstances do I want to watch him surface from the water. I'm liable to have a mini-orgasm right here in the kitchen.

I bite back a groan and try to pull myself together.

I don't even like this guy!

No, seriously. I don't!

My body obviously hasn't received the memo. I really need to work on that.

"Yeah?" I say, trying to remain calm even though it feels like I'm experiencing a hot flash and my legs have grown shaky. I'd like to slap myself silly for the unwanted attraction zipping through me.

"Maybe," Aunt Marnie says, picking up the thread of our previous conversation, "you should give it a try and see what happens."

Ummm...no, thank you. I'll take a hard pass on that proposal.

By the way she arches a brow, I have a feeling that my disgruntled expression conveys my thoughts perfectly.

"You know," she pauses, her eyes fixed on something or someone beyond the kitchen window. She bites her lip in an unusual show of hesitation, which is odd for her.

I tilt my head and wait for her to continue.

Her gaze shifts back to me. "I know Carter seems-"

"Cocky? Arrogant? Conceited?" And those are just off the top of my head. Give me a few moments, and I could come up with an endless supply of unflattering descriptors.

"No." Her lips quirk and her eyes soften. "That's not what I was going to say."

"Huh." I give her a puzzled expression. "I thought it was."

"What I was going to say," she repeats, ignoring me, "is that Carter comes across as a guy who's self-assured, but-"

"You know that's just another word for cocky, right?"

This time, she gives me a flat look. One that tells me I've pushed her far enough. I promptly button my lip and allow her to continue without further interruption.

"Sometimes people feel the need to put up a front to cover what's really going on inside."

I frown at her vague explanation of the situation. Is she suggesting that Carter has reasons for acting the way he does? Reasons that have nothing to do with being an asshole?

"Have you ever considered that the Carter you've gotten to know isn't really who he is?"

"Not even for a moment." I huff and shake my head. "Carter is exactly the annoying guy I've always pegged him to be. In the years that I've known him, he hasn't proved me wrong once."

She slides around the counter, looking over the bowls and platters and adding a few finishing touches along the way. "You know, Daze, sometimes we only see what we want to. We don't take the time to scratch beneath the surface or dig deeper. Sometimes you just need to be patient and give people time to reveal who they really are." She gives me another penetrating look, one that makes me wilt under its intensity. "Can you honestly say you've done that?"

Instead of answering, I shrug. I've given Carter enough chances to prove that he's not a jerk and he hasn't.

This fondness Aunt Marnie has for Carter is seriously messed up. He may have her hoodwinked, but he's not fooling me. I love my aunt and am usually quick to follow her advice. But on this particular subject?

Uh-uh.

"Just give him another chance," she urges, her hazel eyes on me. "It can't hurt, can it?"

Actually, it can. But I'm not going to argue. "I don't know," I mutter, glancing out the window. My eyes arrow to him like a heat-seeking missile.

Electricity slices through me when I realize he's staring right back at me.