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“Winter, goddamn it. Do you even realize what I just said? Your precious boyfriend wants to kill someone. I just… I don’t understand how, after all of this, you still love him. I’d never treat you like that. I’d never lie to you the way he does. Can’t you see—”
With glossy, empty eyes, I jolt up and grab my coffee. “I have to go.”
“What?” he blurts.
“Thank you for coming.” I’m barely aware of my footsteps tearing through the crowd and out of the establishment. Caleb calls my name once. Twice. I don’t turn around.
Caleb’s wrong. This isn’t the Haze I know. He’s not a murderer. Haze’s a good person. Just a really, really damaged person.
Getting into Kendrick’s car—I had to get here somehow since I don’t have a car—I open the numerous unopened messages Haze sent me. My eyes glaze over every word as I scroll up to find what I need.
Haze: I’m staying with Vic. Please answer your phone.
He’s at Vic’s. I’m done running from the truth. I’m done running from him. He’s been begging me to let him explain for days.
I’m going to do just that.
The sound of my tires screeching against the silent roads is all I’ve been hearing for the past ten minutes. Vic’s area is beyond confusing. Everything looks the same, every building a sad shade of gray. It’s like they copied and pasted the whole neighborhood. I narrow my eyes in a desperate attempt to remember the one and only time Haze and I visited Victor. When my gaze finally lands on the building that seems most familiar to me, I park my car in the guest spot. What can I expect? I don’t have the slightest idea.
Glad that the front door isn’t locked, I walk in and go right up the stairs leading to Vic’s floor. I walk for a while, then come to an abrupt stop in front of door 234.
Am I even in the right building?
I knock with an uncertainty I have never felt before. Time passes. No answer.
This is my cue.
I’m about to walk away when the door opens in a creak.
In front of me stands a very lightly dressed brunette who seems to be in her early twenties. Chewing on gum mannerlessly, she looks me up and down. Her red eyes and the smell of weed spilling into the hall leave very little to my imagination.
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“Can I help you?” She arches an eyebrow. The ink on her collarbone reads the name Steve in italic letters. Around it are two poorly done hearts. Was the tattoo artist blind? I cringe. Getting the name of your boyfriend tattooed. Never a good idea.
Says the dumbass who immortalized her first kiss with her ex.
“Uh… Yeah. Is Haze here?” Why am I even bothering? I’m clearly in the wrong place.
“Who’s asking?”
I open my mouth to speak, but someone beats me to it.
“Winter?”
I crane my neck to peek over the drunk girl’s shoulder.
He’s right there.
In the hall.
With wet hair and nothing but black sweatpants on. It’s clear that he just got out of the shower. My eyes drop to his abs for a second too long. He looks drained, tormented, yet so overwhelmingly handsome it’s irritating
Yep, he’s still perfect.
I wish he looked as awful as the way he made me feel.
“Let her in,” he snaps at the girl. I have no idea who she is or why she’s here, but she doesn’t seem like the type of girls to be friends with Beatrice, Vic’s girlfriend.
