Carter and I spoke for hours. He told me all about MMA. What drew him to the sport and why he loves it so much. I get it now, I really do, but I’m not sure it’s the best way for him to deal with his issues.
I didn’t say that to him though, it’s his coping mechanism at the moment, and until I think of a better alternative to offer as a suggestion, I’ll keep my mouth shut.
One thing that did stand out to me, is how much he loves his sister, Bella. As he talked about her, an idea began to form in the back of my mind. I just have to convince Carter to let me meet her. He’s fiercely protective of her, and from what I’ve gathered, he doesn’t let many people near her.
After Carter dropped me home the idea grew and blossomed into something amazing. And even without having met Bella yet, I knew she’d be the perfect model for it. I scribbled down some notes on what I’d like to create, and did a quick sketch, before the need for sleep finally won out.
I had all weekend to fine tune my plan. I even managed to convince Papa to pose for me so I could adjust the settings on my camera until I found the right ones for the look I’m trying to achieve. He looked ridiculous, but he didn’t complain, not once. Even when I had him doing pirouettes in the lounge room.
My dad is one of my biggest supporters, he’s always going out of his way to help with anything I need. And he doesn’t question it when I ask him to do odd stuff, like remove the insides of a lightbulb or, like this past weekend, when I told him I needed him to strike ballerina-like poses.
I think it’s part of the reason we’re so close, he’s always been there for me. The fact that I didn’t come along until he was already in his forties didn’t stop him from keeping up with my vivid imagination growing up.
When Carter told me about his strained relationship with, not just his father, but both his parents, I couldn’t even imagine it. I still can’t. But then again, my brother doesn’t have the same relationship with Papa as I do. Ever since I can remember, there’s been something off about the way they interact with each other.
It makes me feel like I’m missing something. Like they’re keeping things from me. And I hate it. But whenever I ask Papa about it, he closes his eyes and shakes his head. But he never answers me, and a sadness comes over him that remains for days after. I stopped asking a couple of years ago, not being able to bring myself to put him through whatever it is that takes him when I bring it up.
I didn’t see Carter for more than ten minutes on Monday, so I didn’t ask him about meeting his sister. But today, I’ve got him all to myself during class, and I plan to use my time wisely.
The morning drags, and at lunch I see him with his friends, but don’t go over to them. I really don’t like those guys. They’re a bunch of tossers who think they’re better than everyone else because they play football and have muscles. They’re the definition of meatheads.
Carter tilts his chin in my direction and I give him a little finger wave before turning my attention back to my laptop.
Checking the time, I decide I may as well get going, so I close my laptop and slide it into my satchel, then get to my feet. Carter has branched off from his friends and comes up beside me, throwing his arm around my shoulder as we make our way to the building housing our class.
Carter drops a kiss on my temple as we walk, “Hey, beautiful, what were you working on so intently out there?”
I shrug, “Just messing with some ideas for a project.”
He nods beside me, “Were you looking up nudes of me? You know all you have to do is ask and I’ll let you take a bunch for your own personal use.”
Rolling my eyes, I elbow him in the ribs, “No, you perv.”
Carter chuckles, then his hot breath is tickling my ear, “You love my pervy-ness, and my kisses,” his lips graze the shell of my ear and I shiver, “And you especially love my spectacular arse.”
Fanning myself with my hand, I gush, “You know it, stud.” I flutter my lashes at him and he smirks. I sit in my regular spot in the back of the class room, and Carter takes Scout’s chair like he’s done since that first day.
Once the class is underway, I broach the topic I’d been thinking about all weekend, “So, I was wondering,” I say, and Carter tilts his chin to me, “Can I meet your sister?”