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“Well, your arrogant smug face didn’t show it. Not when you partied hard every weekend with everyone, posting on social media how great life was when mine was ruined.”
“Sorry.” I nod and nod, looking down at the sand like I can bring those years back.
“You apologized. I don’t need to hear it again. And now you tell me you went through a lot of shit, too.”
“You don’t know how heavy guilt can be when it overlaps the past mistakes.”
“I know. That’s not why I’m telling you this, Crone. What brings people close is letting them know how you feel. Not shoving your feelings down the drain, hoping it won’t get clogged.”
“Yeah, fine, I have a problem.”
Droga snorts. “You have many. But confronting your feelings… Yeah… You might need a shrink or Katura to sort it out.”
A chuckle escapes me.
“So. My point.” Droga exhales loudly, then drinks from the bottle and licks his lips, taking a moment to wind down. “You and Katura—now that we are on the topic of feelings—spill.”
12
ARCHER
Droga is a betterman than me. I’ve put him through hell, and he’s the one making an effort to bond.
I still feel like there’s an invisible wall between us, but it’s getting thinner. I’ll fucking humble myself to make it vanish. I never thought I’d be like this. But Dad’s death did a number on me. The overdose—another one. Kat saving me…
Well, let’s just say you learn to reevaluate things. I was always the top one at everything but confronting my own feelings. Maybe, I should top that too.
I light a cigarette and let out a smoky sigh. “Kat is wild,” I finally say.
“Here we go.”
“What?”
“What?” Droga mimics. “Using nicknames and mockery to hide feelings. That’s your problem.”
“What are you talking about?”
“She gets to you, huh?”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah. Like no one else, huh?”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah,” he mimics again. “What’s bothering you, Crone? I know you like her.Reallylike her. And that’s an understatement. You thought I was starry-eyed when I met Callie at Deene? Have you seen yourself around Katura? At Cece’s? You were glowing like a fucking Christmas tree.”
I turn to stare at him in confusion.
Droga leans back on his elbows on the sand and crosses his legs at his ankles.
“Yeah,” he drawls, “fuck off with your inner guard. There are flames in your eyes when I bring her up. And I bet your dick is hard when you think about her. But unlike other girls, you let her sleep in your bed, and stay till morning, and make a mess in your villa.”
Instantly, the memory of her panties stuck between the couch pillows makes me smile.
“—and break the rules,” Droga continues, “and you probably already told her things about yourself you never told any other girl. When she’s around, your body reacts with every fucking cell like you are connected by live wires. And when she’s not, there is an empty space that nothing else can fill. Am I right?” He doesn’t hide a smile. “Or am I right?”
His smile is too wicked, and when he elbows me, I can’t help but grin, turning away. It’s not fucking funny, considering I’m miserable just being in the same building with her and not talking, yet the fact that she exists—that one simple fact—is enough to make me feel like I got blessed.
