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Ty used to be in Archer’s crew. He knows my and Callie’s story. He knows better than to ask questions now and promptly disappears.
I pull a hand-rolled cigarette out of a pack, light it, and inhale deeply. The tobacco hisses as it burns. Its scorching heat seeps into my lungs.
Better.
I take a swig of the strong evil-smelling rum that we get in town, and it rips my throat.
Better still.
“We didn’t quite get along, that girl and I,” I finally say and fall back into a wicker armchair, tilting my head back against the headrest and closing my eyes.
“Wanna talk?” Bo asks.
I shake my head.
I hear him stand up, down his drink, and set the cup down.
“Yeah, tomorrow is gonna be one hell of a day. Communal meeting after breakfast. Get some sleep.”
But when the door closes behind him, the last thing I think about is sleep.
Callie Mays, the golden girl, is on Zion.
Fifty feet away from here.
In the Common Lounge.
I take another drag and chug the entire drink, then pour myself another one.
It’s crazy what our minds can do.
Mine spins like a rollercoaster with the images from the past that fuck me up more than booze or pot.
The Block Party, the biggest in years.
Callie’s slender body, moving on that low podium to the sounds of her favorite Doja Cat song. Her cute blue string dress, floating around her curves. Her hips swinging. Her luminous blue eyes flicking here and there, but mostly at me. Rosy lips curling into a cute smile.
There is always that smile. She never smiles like this at Crone. Only at me. And blushes.
Holy hell, how she blushes when I am around!
Then there is Jules, rubbing on me like a cat in heat, though I can’t take my eyes off Callie.
And there is Crone.
He’s already gotten blown in his Maserati by some cheerleader, but he wants more. Always wants more. Her. And he doesn’t feel like playing the hard game.
“I’m gonna fuck her tonight,” he announces so casually as if Callie is another one of the girls who drop their panties at his command.
He grins and waves at her when she smiles at him, dancing on that podium—so innocent, so naive it makes my hands curl into fists.
I flex my fingers at the memory and take another gulp of rum.
And then there isdrunkCallie.
And me, carrying her to the frat house to my room.
Undressing her…
