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Kiwi moves around me and to her side. "He's here?" He addresses her, but King won't look away from me.
"Please let me explain," she begs, with tears streaming down her face.
I slowly shake my head, taking one step backward, then another. This is too much. I can't— I need— She doesn't follow. While the fingers of my uninjured hand tremble from the adrenaline rush, the other hand begins to throb. When I'm near the entrance to the main room, I pivot and push through the throng of people. I ignore Kai and Zeke as they call out to me.
A knockat the door forces me to lift my head off my pillow. "Go awa—ohhh fuuuck." I squeeze my eyes shut. My head feels like it's split in two. What the— I let it drop back onto the pillow.
Reality seeps in, and I remember her. I remember seeing her with Gray—no, Turner, whatever. Her fucking father. I fell in love with a criminal's daughter—a criminal who was part of ruining so many lives.
The knock comes again, more forcefully. I peel one lid back and peer at the half-empty bottle of amber-colored liquid sitting on my nightstand.
That explains my headache.
"Bro!" Kai's voice drifts into my room. The doorknob rattles, but he can't get in. Making sure no one would be able to enter, I propped a dining room chair against the door. "Sheats, open the fuck up!"
Hearing the slight panic in my roommate's calls should make me feel…something. Guilt for locking him out? No, I don't owe anyone shit anymore. She fucking played me. She knew who I was from day one. It probably was all a game. Did Gray put her up to it? But for what? Revenge? Well, that backfired.
BANG. BANG, BANG.
It sounds like he's about to break through the barrier, and I jerk to a sitting position, a movement I immediately regret as the room begins to fade in and out, and my stomach revolts. I glance toward my bathroom, but it's too late. Cold sweat is already running down my temple as I swallow hard. It's no use. All I can do is lean over the side of the mattress before I say hello to whatever I consumed after coming home. The retching subsides, and hanging over the edge of the bed, I make out my trash can and two more empty bottles on the floor.
Did I drink all that?is the only thought I manage before my body begins to shake uncontrollably, and I heave again.
Maybe I should open the door.
I must've managed to push myself back up somehow because, the next thing I know, something cold drenches my body. When my vision adjusts, I see Kai's furious mug staring down at me.
"What the fuck, asshole?" he barks, and I frown. How did he get in?
Kai's arm shoots out like a snake, and he pulls me up by the hair. "The fuck—?" I roar, trying to punch him in the junk, but my movement is sloppy, and all I manage is to clip his thigh. And even that is no more than a gentle pat my ninety-six-year-old great-grandma would laugh at.
He doesn't release the hold he has on me but shifts so I can see what's behind him—no, what used to be there.
"Where's my door?" My outrage isn't much more than a hoarse slur.
"Gone, motherfucker!" he bellows, as Zeke and Mack appear in the frame.
How the hell did they manage to take my door off?
My teammates look down at me with a mixture of concern and disgust. Following their gazes, I quickly understand why, and a new round of nausea hits me.
Kai finally releases me as I slam my hand over my mouth. This time, I make it to the bathroom before I start heaving. From what I could see in the remnants of my bedroom, I must've puked numerous times over however long I was in here—and missed the trash can half the time.
"It's Monday night, fuckwad," Kai answers my unspoken question from the threshold.
Did I ask that out loud? Wait. Monday? I lost…shit, almost three days.
I turn my head slightly. His earlier rage morphs into worry as he scans me up and down. "Bro, what happened?"
Zeke and Mack show up next to him, holding their sweater sleeves over their mouth and nose. "Dude, what the hell is going on?"
I eye Zeke suspiciously. "Where's your boyfriend?"
His brows shoot up. "At work. What's it to you?"
"Talk to him."
I push myself up, using the rim of the toilet bowl, and stumble back into my bedroom.
