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I hand her the pills, and she stares at them blearily for a moment before tossing them all down her throat and dry swallowing them.
My mouth hangs open. “One of them was a molly.”
“Good job.” She gives me a thumbs up before rolling onto her side again and letting out a massive sigh.
“Uh… aren’t you going to school?”
“Fuck that,” she mutters.
“But… it’s orientation week.”
“I’m so orientated, you could use me for a fucking compass,” Kat mumbles. “Now be a dear and fuck off, would you?”
My chest squeezes at her harsh words, but she’s obviously in a lot of pain, so I tell myself that she doesn’t mean it. I grab my phone, shoving it in the pocket of my blazer, push back my shoulders, and head down the hall.
I’m almost done getting the brush out of my hair when I look up and see Owen speeding past on a golf cart.
Guess I’m not the only one who woke up late.
I could call out to him, catch a ride, but that would be the opposite of avoiding him. Surely there’s another golf cart parked in the shed. I’ve never driven one before, but it can’t be that difficult. Keeping perfectly still from my position at the front door of the Walsh House, I wait for Owen to pass so I can go to the shed.
But either he senses a disturbance in the force, or he can feel my eyes on him, because as he passes, he turns to look directly at me. Thankfully, he doesn’t stop.
My shoulders drop in relief, and I let out a soft sigh as I head for the shed.
In the distance, I hear a faint, “Fuck…”
The golf cart stops.
The golf cart reverses.
My cheeks are already several degrees warmer when Owen pulls up beside me. “Get in.”
“I’ll take my own.” I’m rather impressed with how steady my voice is, all things considered.
“This is the last one.” He sounds like he’s loath to admit it. “So, just get the fuck in.”
“I’ll walk.” I set off toward school, hoping he’ll go away.
Owen turns off the engine. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he mutters. “Do I need to pick you up and toss you in the back?”
I swing around, glaring at him. “I don’tneedyour help.”
His eyes move over me for a moment, and then he cocks his head. “Sure about that? Because unless you’re rocking a new look, you should take that brush out before you set foot on campus.” He holds up his hand in mock surrender. “But what do I know?”
I yank at the brush, the hot pain at my scalp making my eyes water, but this knot won’t come out because I willed it to happen. At least, with Owen driving, I should have enough time to untangle it.
Letting out an annoyed growl, I climb up onto the back of the golf cart. At least this way I don’t have to look at him.
He says nothing as he starts the engine, and the golf car rolling swiftly down the path again. But he’s driving so fast I end up having to brace myself, or risk falling off.
“Could you slow down?”
“We’re late.”
“Like that matters to you…”
There’s a bitter note to his laugh. “What matters isn’t up to me.”
