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I nod, biting my lower lip to ensure nothing else comes out.
“You’re drunk,” he says matter-of-factly.
“And high,” I add.
He brakes so suddenly my head hits the board. “Ow!”
“Seatbelt. Now.”
“God,” I moan as I put it on. “Are you always so bossy?”
He grabs me by the chin and forces me to face him. “What did you take?” he says, leaning toward me. His eyes flick from one of mine to the other, probably trying to check my pupils.
“The cocaineyouprovided.”
He shakes his head. “Don’t do that fucking shit. It’s disgusting, and you’re better than that.”
“Better than that?” I snort. “You don’t know me.”
His fingers dig into my skin, making me hiss. “Don’t fight me, Alexandra.”
The silentor…sends goosebumps down my neck.
“I got drunk and took drugs. I’m a college student, that’s what we do.” I don’t mention that I was forced into doing it, because that’s just too embarrassing. I can’t admit to the man I’ve been dreaming of that I have no backbone or have never done drugs in my life. I’m from Stoneview; he probably assumes I do it on a weekly basis.
“You shouldn’t even be drinking,” he says as he lets me go. “You’re not twenty-one.”
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-four,” he says as if to prove a point.
“You’re a drug dealer. How old do you have to be forthatto be okay?”
He ignores me and my head falls against the seat. “I feel sick,” I admit in a huff.
“That’s what happens to college girls who can’t pace themselves. You’ve got the biggest baby chick energy I’ve ever seen. At least try to be safe.”
“Chick,” I huff. “Baby chick is the same thing.”
I wouldn’t know he was joking if I had to judge from his tone alone. But he looks at me and that tiny smile is back at the corner of his lips. The slightest pull. That’s his entire smile, and I’m only realizing it now. I bet the whole thing must be dazzling.
“You’re so mean.” I turn to him and give him a pout.
He looks back at the road, not taking the bait of my baby face. “We’re almost home. Don’t get sick in your car, you just got it back.”
I swallow back bile and open the window when something hits me. “Did they break a window to steal it?”
“That’s how people tend to steal cars, yes,” he deadpans.
“But…I have windows.” My sentence-building isn’t the best right now. My brain is a little too busy dealing with the coke.
“I got it fixed for you.” His simple words make my heart want to explode out of my chest.
It’s the drugs. Please, let it be the drugs.
“Why?”
He shrugs. “We’re not all bad on the North Shore, cupcake.”
