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“Anything to say?” I ask icily.
“About?”
“Oh, you know. The arrest warrant over a fictional rape, all because you fucking dragged this up in the summer.”
“What do you want me to say?”
“Acknowledge this is your fault.”
He scoffs. “Um. No. Wasn’t me fucked Lily and broke her heart, then paraded around a girl who could be her.”
“Guys, don’t do this,” says Bryn, as I shoot a hand out to grab Jem. “I’m not sitting through another episode of the Dylan and Jem Show.”
Jem giggles and my hackles rise. Is this really a joke to him? “Have a drink, Dylan. Reckon you need one.”
He crosses to the fridge, retrieves a bottle of beer then throws it across the room. I catch it. “Bryn?” he asks.
Bryn shakes his head. “You know what? You guys — talk.”
I remain in the doorway as Bryn turns away and slams the door behind. Cracking the beer, I swig and debate whether to stay in the room with Jem or leave.
“Sorry, man,” mutters Jem, as the door closes behind Bryn.
I stop my mouth falling open. “You’re apologising?”
“I might not like you much at the moment, but you don’t deserve to get locked up. This is fucked.”
“You triggered all this by talking to her.”
Jem sinks back onto the sofa. “I tried to call Lily today,” he says quietly, “but she won’t talk.”
“Don’t tell Steve you did that! Fuck, Jem. We need to keep the hell away, not make things worse.”
“Yeah, didn’t think.”
I bite back the desire to tell him his lack of thinking is the exact problem here.
“This isallfucked,” I tell him. “Everything that’s happened the last few months.”
“Yeah, when someone dies that’s pretty obvious.”
Jem hasn’t spoken about Liv since we arrived in the States. As soon as he turned back to the arms of the alcohol and drugs, he pushed us away. Suddenly, there’s a crack in his armour again—one I want to poke through. Jem catches my thoughts and stands.
“Talk to me,” I say, surprising myself.
“About what?”
“Everything. I can’t deal with my shit tonight; maybe I’ll give yours a go.”
“Your perfect little life with Sky not happening?”
“Don’t swing back into being nasty again. I want to help you, Jem.”
“Do you? Really? What if I’m beyond help? What if this is who I am and that’s all.”
“Your choice.”
For once, I’m also submerged in drugs and alcohol, lending me understanding to Jem’s perspective of the world. I’m a mess; I want to obliterate what’s happening. Otherwise, I’ll sit and obsess about Sky all evening.
