Page 92 of The Unravelings

Simon chuckles from his spot on the couch, looking normal. No hangover. Not a touch out of place for him, which is odd for Simon. He’s usually the first one to chuck his cookies onto the lawn.

He puts a hand on his heart. “Poison? Oli, I resent that. The pink drink was made with lots of love for you, and this is how you betray me?” He waves a hand, grinning at me. “Besides, it was an epic party. Remember the strippers? The dancers? Oh, my God—the fire dancers!”

No. I don’t. Why is everything about last night so dang fuzzy?

“They were so hot, and their dance moves?” He whistles to himself, continuing without a word from me. “And I didn’t even puke. So, that’s a win in my book.” He shrugs happily, scrolling through his phone and laughing to himself.

“How much did we drink?” That’s the question of the hour.

Simon looks up at me, and I mean, really looks at me this time. His brows furrow, and a hint of concern flashes across his face. “You only had two glasses of the pink stuff. You kind of wandered off, though. So, maybe more? I’m honestly not sure.”

Right. They left me to defend myself. But where did I wander off to? Who did I interact with? How much more did I drown out my sorrows with?

“Wandered off?” Jesus. What the hell did I get myself into while I was blacked out and Simon wasn’t watching me?

“I caught you talking to Malic, but other than that, you seemed fine! I dragged you back to us, and that’s when we left after you disappeared again.” His grin slightly disappears. “I mean, here’s a picture!” He turns his phone again, showing a picture of Malic Monroe looking down at me with awe in his eyes and a lazy smirk on his lips. Every inch of his body is relaxed as I lean against the wall, drunkenly ogling him with glazed-over eyes. “Besides, Oli. I think he kind of likes you.” He holds that same pleased grin, but it instantly drops when I stare at the phone, blinking rapidly as I realize what I’ve done. “He gave me the idea for our pink drinks!”

Great. I talked to my one-night stand—who gave Simon the idea for our drinks. The same man everyone’s afraid of around here. The psycho. The man who fucked me in the bathroom at the bar. Fuck. I didn’t tell him who I was, did I?

My heart rate soars and my vision swims. All I need is some psycho knowing who I really am. Hello, blackmail number two.

“Awesome. What er…was I talking about with him?” I avert my eyes as Simon cocks his head.

“No clue, Oli,” he says slowly. “Should I…”

“No biggie!” I rush, shaking my head. No way does Simon need to know about my past with Malic. Well, my one night of passion. If you can even call a bathroom hookup a night of passion.

Rock bottom never tasted so damn sour.

I quickly grab my coffee mug and start the Keurig Simon purchased for our dorm room a week ago. The sweet smell of southern pecan fills the room, and my shoulders relax at the familiarity.

Nothing happened. Nothing at all. I got home on my own. I probably climbed through the window, came up to my dorm room, and passed out. Yeah, that’s it. At least that’s what I tell myself over and over again, despite the constant churning in my stomach. Besides, we had fun. At least I think we did. So what if I talked to Malic about…God knows what. He probably doesn’t even remember me having a conversation with him. Yeah, I’m fine. Drink your coffee, get better, and then go into investigation mode.

Yup. Yup! That’s what I need to do.

Okay, I got this.

“Blood drive day!” Wade grins, adjusting his tight red T-shirt that proudly displays—Greenwood Blood Drive, over his pink collared shirt. He walks into our shared space with a bottle of water and plops down next to Simon while checking his phone intently. After a few seconds, he scans our faces. “You guys are coming, right?”

I feel his narrowed stare as I watch my coffee finish pouring into my mug, and I take it from beneath the Keurig.

“Unless you want me on the floor showing no signs of life,” Simon scoffs. “Me and needles do not mesh well together. I’ll scream, pass out, and probably puke everywhere.” He gives Wade a pointed look. “We go over this every year,” he huffs, shaking his head.

Wade blinks a few times and pulls a face. “Right. Well, it was worth a try, dude. You’re good. We’re trying to get everyone to participate this time. Mom says that if we do win this competition, she’s going to offer some more big prizes.”

“Big prizes?” I ask, sipping my too-hot coffee and taking a seat across from them.

“She’s in talks with West Records.” He pauses for dramatic effect, not getting the excited reaction he’s hoping for.

I am familiar with the West sons—two boys I was undercover with a few years ago—Seger and Zeppelin West. In fact, I’m almost positive Zepp is running West Records now while he’s in college. Hmmm. Maybe I should warn him off.

Wade looks between the two of us and says, “You know! The biggest music producers in California?” He deflates when I nod once. “Well, she’s got a big band on the hook to come play for us before winter break. It’ll be huge for us and fun as hell.”

“Sounds cool, Man. But you aren’t dragging me to donate blood, even if there’s a cool-ass band on the line,” Simon says, turning a slight pale color and wrinkling his nose. “Oh, God. I can’t even think about it. It’s turning my stomach.”

“I’ll come,” I say, taking another drink before I can say sike; I don’t really want to be anywhere near the blood drive or leave my bedroom for the day.

But hey, an A is an A, and I’ll take whatever I can get to shove it in JJ’s stupid blackmailing face.