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The car was silent for a long moment, then finally, his voice small, "Is that why your dad said it was okay to see me?"
"Yes." My throat burned. The deception wasn't my first, nor would it be my last. My world was riddled with them and, one day, I would drown in them.
Rook stared at the floor, growing quiet, and more guilt flooded my system.
Rook was a scholarship kid, and because of that, an outcast. I was the only person who didn't care about how much money was in his bank account.
His tuition was paid for by generous committee members, otherwise known as the pompous men who liked to pretend they gave a shit about the community, when really, they were looking to funnel their dirty money through the system.
I knew this because I was one of those people. I'd arranged abuelo's money to continue to pay for Rook's scholarship when his sponsor backed out.
Just like those men, my corruption knew no bounds.
I did it for selfish reasons––I liked Rook.
But I was his only friend and my absence would be felt.
Everything in his life was about to change and I was too goddamned rotten to do anything about it.
The car ride was silent until we pulled up to the old liquor store.
"Wait here." I stepped out, my heart squeezing in my chest as I checked my surroundings.
It should be safe here but you never knew.
I went inside and, instead of going straight to the counter, browsed through the shelves, finally picking out Old Forester whiskey.
The man at the counter didn't blink at my age, just took the bottle and shoved it into the brown paper bag, not ringing it up. Then he grabbed another brown paper bag out from under the counter and passed it over.
"For fuck’s sake," I growled, not taking it.
He gave me a dull look, his eyes dead. "They're clean."
"Show me."
“You serious?" He puffed, showing off his missing tooth.
"As a heart attack."
When I didn't crack a smile, he grabbed the bag, and pulled out two unregistered guns, showing me where the serial numbers had been filed off. "You satisfied?"
"Like a rich man on skid row," I said, taking the bag in one hand and my whiskey in another, the glass door slamming behind me as I left.
Rook's face peered at me nervously as I got into the car, his eyes immediately latching onto the two brown bags. He looked away quickly.
I tucked the bag with the guns under my seat, then pulled out the whiskey. "It's okay. You can look."
He eyed it warily. "They let you buy that in there?"
"Of course," I scoffed, then twisted the lid open. I offered him the first sip. "Want some?"
He stared at it for a moment. "You first."
I shrugged. "Just trying to be nice." I took a gulp, then promptly spit it out, spraying it all over his face. God, my throat burned.
"Sorry." I yanked out of my t-shirt, chuckling at the way Rook's mouth had dropped open in surprise.
He grabbed the shirt from my outstretched hand. "Idiot," he grinned, wiping his face, "but it's okay."
