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I was scared the glass walls would break. Tristan rushed in with Adrian behind him.
“Thank God,” Tristan said, relief lacing his worried voice.
They were both panting with their hands placed on their chests.
I guessed Morris had told them. I glared at them and took another swig. Adrian ran his palm down his face and walked past Tristan, who was leaning on the wall and staring at the ceiling.
I sipped more of the vodka, and I was starting to feel the effect in my body. I stood up with the knife and my eyes on Tristan.
“This is all your fault!” I screamed, running toward him with the knife but Adrian held me back.
“Let me go, Adrian!” I struggled in his arms.
“Chloe, calm down.”
“Don’t tell me what to do. He ruined everything for me. Just let me kill him. Please.”
“You’re drunk. You don’t know what you’re doing,” Adrian said, tightening his arms around me as I struggled to break free.
“I don’t care! I want him dead!” I yelled, clenching my facial muscles, but Tristan just stared at me blankly and stayed still.
“I hate you and your whole existence!” I said, yet Tristan still looked unfazed. I stopped struggling as the alcohol had my brain all tied up.
“Are you okay?” Adrian checked my body.
I forgot I was only wearing Tristan’s sweatshirt, and from the way I had been struggling earlier, I was pretty sure they’d both seen the color of my underwear.
“Yeah,” I slurred, still glaring at Tristan.
“You’re sure you didn’t hurt yourself?” Adrian asked, still looking for any sign of injury. “Give me the knife.” He collected it from my hand.
I was starting to feel dizzy.
Tristan walked into his closet and returned with one ripped shirt to show Adrian. I giggled and picked up the bottle to take a gulp, but Adrian snatched it.
“That’s enough.”
I wanted to argue, but I slowly blacked out.
I wokeup with a stubborn headache and a groan. Adrian and Tristan were sitting on the couch in front of me, staring at me with a look my parents would give me when I did something bad.
I sat up, trying to recall what had happened. I rubbed my temple to ease the pain.
“How are you feeling?” Adrian asked.
I pulled the blanket to my waist and moved my long hair back, so I could see clearly.
“My head hurts.” I hugged my legs and stared at them with my head resting on my knees.
Their suit jackets were nowhere to be seen. Tristan’s sleeves were folded at the elbows while Adrian’s first three buttons were undone.
“I will get you some aspirin,” Adrian offered and left.
Tristan sat back with his arms folded, giving me a scrutinizing stare with narrowed eyes that were focused on me. Images of me ripping his clothes and running toward him with a knife replayed in my head.
“What happened at school?” He looked calm.
I didn’t know if he was mad about his clothes, but if he was, then he was doing a good job of hiding it.
