Page 60 of Sorrow & Strangers

“Max isn’t a booty call. It’s not happening again.”

“Why not? It’s low-risk, no commitment.” I can see Alice’s shoulders lifting in a shrug over Rafe’s chest. “Plus, isn’t he a bigger commitment-phobe than you?”

“I don’t want it. Connor was my future. Now I am my own future.”

Alice shifts, pushing up on her elbow, her brown eyes settling on me. “Summer, you were always your own future.”

Is she right? I had always linked Connor to my future, to my peace, but I suppose he would have been just a big part of it. It’s difficult to know when my future was never guaranteed. I suppose it still isn’t. There are still so many unknowns. Where is Torin? Who signed me up for school? Am I a light fae? What does that even mean?

This is all the thinking I haven’t had the emotional or mental bandwidth to even begin to consider. These questions have been on the back burner, and I know I’ll eventually have to face them. I long for normality, but they are waiting to be answered, and I am the only one who can do so. Even the thought exhausts me.

“Well. No more slutty Summer. I need to grow up. I can’t keep feeling two dicks per day.”

Alice quirks a brow. “Two? Who’s the second?”

“Huh? No one,” I say, clearing my throat. My mind eagerly provides the memory of the stranger. I blink, trying to clear it, only to find it refusing to be banished, just like the man himself.

“Tell me!” Alice says, pinching me hard. I welcome the pain as it forces the memory away.

“Forget it,” I say, looking pointedly at Rafe.

Alice gives me an exasperated look. “Yeah, cause you’ve been real careful with what you’ve said up until now.”

I sigh heavily and then silently mouth, “Stranger.”

Alice gasps. “Shut up! Was it massive?”

“Alice!”

“What? I remember what he said last year. Barely manageable and pierced.”

I glance at Rafe again, silently apologizing for the trauma caressing his ear holes, but also begging for him to wake up and distract Alice from talking about the stranger when I’m desperately trying not to think about him. Trying not to remember the salty taste against my lips⁠—

“He’s knocked out. Tell me,” Alice demands.

I blink at her. “You said he could hear us.”

“Okay, well, I’m changing my mind. Just tell me!”

I groan. “I don’t want to talk about this.” Alice waits, clearly not willing to drop it. “He, like . . . pressed it against me.” I consider telling her about the photo, then realize that is not a can of worms I want to open at this precise moment.

Alice’s eyebrows knit together, and her nose crinkles. “Pressed it against you?” Her brow relaxes, and she purses her lips. “Hot.”

“It was like . . . It was nothing.”

“Please. Your face says it all,” Alice scoffs.

I blink. “What does my face say?”

Alice moans in mock-pleasure and rolls her eyes back in her head exaggeratedly.

I gasp and pull my hand from hers, carefully covering Rafe’s ears.

Alice bursts out laughing. “I knew it.”

I glare at her. “Wouldn’t you rather hear about my last moments with my dead fiancé?”

Alice snorts. “Over you rubbing yourself against your stalker like a feral cat in heat? Please, I’m only so strong.”