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“Of course you don’t,” I mutter, lifting the bottle to my lips.
I’m such a fucking idiot.
“Are you seriously gonna tell me you haven’t thought the same?” he rushes out so unexpectantly, I freeze, the lip of the bottle paused against my waiting mouth.
“That you didn’t wish it was me instead?” His voice trembles, but grows stronger, louder as he continues, “That you didn’t think it?—”
I whip around so fast, he flinches back. “No. No, I fucking didn’t.”
His eyes widen, and he gulps.
I take a step forward, and he takes several back.
“I didn’t even let myself consider the possibility until you brought it up the other night,” I practically shout, flinging the hand holding the bottle out. My voice slurs. The vodka sloshes.
Biting back a curse, I quickly refasten the cap before it spills everywhere, or I drop it.
Neither of us say anything for a long moment.
A gust blows through, smacking raindrops that now feel like icy needles across my face. Jeremy hunches his shoulders, hugging himself through a full-bodied shiver.
“It’s o-okay if you did,” he says carefully. “It’s…normal. And I underst?—”
Eyes closing, my head jerks side to side, effectively cutting him off. “Such an idiot,” I mutter under my breath, and shoulder past him.
“Excuse me?” he calls out.
“Not you,” I grit out, stomping my way toward the parking lot, the bottle of vodka sloshing at my side.
He jogs after me. “Where are you going?”
“You’re freezing, and it’s starting to sleet.”
“I’m f-fine.”
I whirl on him, seething. “Yeah, you’re always fucking fine. What else is new?”
His eyes widen, mouth parting.
I look all over his face and scoff, waving him off. “I take it back. You’re an idiot too.”
He scowls. “Hey!”
I spread my arms, rocking back a step. Gravel crunches under my boot. We’ve reached the lot. “Just calling it like it is.” I bring the bottle to my chest, and go to uncap it, but before I can, he darts forward, ripping it from my hands once more, clutching it to his chest instead.
Blowing out a harsh breath, I bore my eyes into his, colliding with his fury,. His nostrils flare, his jaw tenses. The world around him shivers in slashes of gray.
“You’re being a dick,” he says tightly.
“Yeah?” I fling my hand in the direction of his chest. “Well, newsflash, so are you.”
“Me?” He looks around. “How am I being a dick? You’re the one who?—”
“And here everyone thought Izzy was the bullheaded one,” I mutter.
“—decided to summon me here and take out your—” His face bunches. “Wait, what? I’m not?—”
“Not what? Stubborn?” I bark out a laugh, nodding. “Right. And I’m not an addict who’s fallen off the wagon. And Izzy’s still alive. And you’re the one who’s dead, and everything is just fucking perfect.”
