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I scowled, infuriated by his ability to shift gears so quickly. He was enjoying this—pissing me off. I signaled another bartender over to order more drinks. Now that there was a little space between us, I felt like I could actually breathe.

“In your dreams,” I muttered in response.

Silas knew exactly how far to push me before pulling me back from the ledge. Arguing with him was like a damn game of tug of war. He never revealed too much, but said just enough to bristle me. He rose my fucking blood pressure.

“We do fuck in my dreams,” Silas purred. “Every single one of them.”

When a tall glass of beer arrived, I gulped it down even though it wasn’t what I wanted. Oh well.

The surrounding scenery, including the TV in the back of the bar gradually became hazy, and I couldn’t really read the labels on the bottles across from me on the counter anymore. I had reached my limit and it was time to go.

“I’m going home. Honestly, I’m tired of your shit.” I mumbled. I was buzzed, but not the fun feeling buzzed, the frustrated kind.

I was exhausted from the day. I was disappointed. My phone hadn’t made a single sound since I had gotten to the bar and my worry for Delane was rapidly shifting into self-deprecation. She probably realized how shit I really was and threw in the towel. Silas was right—she had given up on my ass, and I couldn’t even blame her. I was a mess.

Just look at me. Drunk. Again.

Such a fuck up.

“One last drink,” Silas requested, pushing one of the two shots he purchased forward.

My eyes went from the drink to Silas.

Should I?

I knew the answer to that, but I couldn’t bring myself to say anything at all.

Silas cocked his head in a sickeningly attractive manner. “Please?”

I eyed the offering with a substantially growing craving. The burn called to me. Promises of pleasure and dizzy buzzes that would keep me far from reality. Without hesitating any longer, I reached for the shot, but Silas caught my hand before it made contact. He squeezed.

“And one more thing…”

I followed the downward point of his gaze, noticing two, small, white pills sitting next to the shot glasses.

“One for you…” Silas pinched a pill between his fingers and popped it into his mouth. “...and one for me.”

Before I could even gauge what happened, Silas washed the pill down with his shot, and grinned at me, expectantly. “You’re not gonna let me do it alone, are you?”

I collapsed back down on the stool, absolutely stunned. I glanced over my shoulder at the bar to see if any of the workers had seen him do that. “Are you fucking serious, Silas? What did you just take?”

He edged the second one forward, and I clamped my hand over it instinctually to cover it from prying eyes.

“Take yours, and you’ll find out,” he breathed.

“I—” I didn’t even know what to say. Trying to explain to a buzzed and high Silas while I was also drunk that I didn’t take drugs anymore and that I went through a shitty detox period was not what I intended to do with my time.

“Take it,” he urged. “Let’s go fuck shit up together. It’ll be fun. An escape. Let’s go, Noah.”

He cracked that smile again. “Please?”

I stared at my closed fist.

One little pill never hurt anyone—right?

Silas’s pointer finger traced my knuckles. “I could put it on my tongue first, if you want. And give it to you that way.”

I shuddered, unsure if it was from the alcohol, or the image he just painted for me.