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His voice booms. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"
Chapter Eight
He takes steps towards me, but I'm still stuck in the headlights. Who the hell are these people, and why did my sister throw her life away for this?
He's behind me. I can feel his body, hear his breath. His fingers wrap around my wrist so tightly I lose sensation in my hand.
"Excuse us." He pulls me away from the people, all the way to the sidewalk across the street. "Do you do coke?"
It's dark here. The headlights are finally gone. "No."
"Then what were you doing waiting your turn?"
I have no response.
His grip tightens around my wrist. "You do drugs?"
I dig my heel into the concrete. "That's none of your business."
"We're friends. Makes it my business."
I grit my teeth. "You made it clear we're not confidants."
He takes my hand and tugs me away from the scene. "Look me in the eyes and answer me. Do you do drugs?"
My gaze goes anywhere but his eyes. "No. I don't do drugs." The sky is dark enough that I can see stars. So many stars. "I don't even like being around drugs."
"I'll take you home." He pulls me towards the sidewalk.
I'm the wet blanket again, the girl who can't handle the party, the girl who belongs at home.
I pull my hand free. "That's not necessary."
"You're pale. You're barely breathing." His voice gets serious. "You look like you saw a ghost."
Those people might as well be ghosts. How long until one of them is lying in a hospital bed, heartbeat fading to zero?
I take a deep breath. "It's nothing."
&n
bsp; "No lies. That's our deal."
"I just remembered something awful." I hug my purse against my chest to keep the warmth in my body. "I'm not going to talk about it."
He shifts. His expression softens. His eyes brighten like he's trying to lift the mood. "You want to give me some hint what's wrong?"
"Not particularly."
"The sooner you tell me, the sooner we leave, and the sooner you get to fuck me."
My cheeks flush red again. "You're—"
"Don't say dreaming, because we both know what my dreams are like." He leans closer, holding my stare like he's daring me to explain.
I need to not be talking about this or thinking about this. And there's no way I'll be thinking about it if we really do sleep together.
So, fine, I'll tell him as much as it takes to change the subject. "There was someone in my life who went down a bad path with drugs. It still hurts but I'm not going to talk about it."
